A/N: Thank you again to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I want you to all know I appreciate it (even if I can't reply and thank you each individually because some of you are guests)! Anyways, here's some more of Cullen since he was so absent from the last chapter.

CHAPTER SIX

The Templar was like dragon's fruit.

That's what Hawke had said, anyway, after she'd caused quite the scene.

Evelyn had been simply reading through reports in the War Room when the two great doors had burst open, a somewhat frantic-looking Lieutenant Davis standing in their wake. She'd been on her feet before the man had had a chance to open his mouth, the reports clamoring to the floor as she'd stepped toward him.

"Lieutenant?" she'd quickly questioned, already crossing the room. "What is it? Are we under attack? Is someone injured?"

"No," he had answered quickly, clearly out of breath. "Not yet. It's Hawke, Your Worship. She and the Commander-"

"Where?"

"Sparring ring."

The Herald had broken into a run at that point, the somewhat loud clanking of armor telling her that the Lieutenant was at her heels as she ran. Hawke: the woman was a whirlwind of trouble all on her own, and she had a knack for riling others up. If she was harassing Cullen again... She'd sprinted right passed Josephine, who was on her feet as well, looking alarmed.

She'd managed to come to a skidding halt at the top of the stone staircase, eyes flying immediately to the sparring ring and a light curse slipping past her lips when her mind had actually registered the sight before her. The clanking of steel had reached her ears as the two figures had moved around the ring, one more obviously on the offensive than the other. She'd quickly moved down the steps.

"Hawke," the Commander's irritated voice had called out, barely audible over the clanking steel. "Hawke! Maker's breath, that's enough! Stop!"

The sound of clanking steel had died away while Evelyn had jogged down those last few steps, turning quickly and heading toward the ring. For the brief few seconds where the gathering crowd blocked her ability to see what was happening, she'd held her breath. Silence, after all, could mean two very different things.

"Hawke!"

The Herald had made it just through the crowd in time to see a short-haired, armored figure complete a spin, the long weapon held in her arms about to slam into the shoulder-plate of the larger figure. The man had countered at the last second, however, lifting his shield to deflect the blow and push the woman further away.

"I will not warn you again! Cease your actions immediately!"

Evelyn had taken a moment longer to observe the situation, taking in the irritated, reddened expression on the Commander's face as he stepped backwards, shield held defensively and weapon clutched tightly. One glance at the mischievous grin worn by the Champion of Kirkwall, and she hadn't needed any more information to piece together what had happened. "Hawke!" she'd shouted as she'd swung over the fencing of the sparring ring.

Luckily, the apostate had been smart enough to not blatantly ignore the shout, for she'd lowered her weapon a fraction, stepping back and turning so that she was facing the new arrival. "Inquisitor! Did you come to place a bet on the match?"

"There will be no match!" the Commander had asserted in outrage, patience almost completely gone. Still, there was some will of his that remained, keeping his temper reigned in. "I have told you this multiple times, Hawke. Stand down."

"Come on, Knight-Captain! It-"

"That is not my title!"

"Oh, that will always be your title," had been the quick retort, the apostate's words somehow managing to come off as simultaneously playful and insulting.

The Commander, of course, had managed to resist the bait, and Evelyn had been certain he could resist a great deal more, but she hadn't wanted to wait around and watch him have to. She'd taken another few steps forward, stepping up between the two and raising her hands. "Enough! Hawke, what in the Maker's name do you think you're doing? Our Commander has more important things to do than spar you!"

"He had the time to spar his recruits a moment ago; he just doesn't want to spar me."

Oh, the Inquisitor had wanted to laugh at that attempt, for she knew Hawke's implication was anything but accurate. "Hawke," she'd tried again, tone gentler this time, "it is not going to happen. The Commander of the Inquisition's forces is not going to spar you, not today, and not at any point in the future."

Rather than looking deflated, however, the apostate's grin had only grown, a mischievous twinkle lighting her blue eyes. "Well, then I suppose you wouldn't have any objection to stepping in for him, hmm?"

"Hawke, it's not- wait, what?" For a moment, the Herald had only blinked in surprise, the wheels in her mind turning as she tried to catch up. This hadn't been Hawke's plan all along, had it? Oh, but the Ferelden-turned-Kirkwaller had known the former Knight-Captain for quite some time; she had to have known that he'd reject a challenge to a duel.

"Good!" the apostate had chirped. "I already had your staff fetched; here you are." She'd produced the wooden weapon with ease, for it had been resting along the fence of the sparring ring all along.

Evelyn hadn't been able to decide if she was truly upset or simply impressed by the scheming.

"The Inquisitor is not going to spar you, Hawke," the Commander had interrupted, stepping forward again and lifting a hand to cut through the air once in emphasis.

"I think the pretty lady can speak for herself, Knight-Captain."

"Hawke!"

"She's right, Commander. I can, and I will," Evelyn had declared. "You want a match, Hawke?"

"Oh, I most definitely do, Trevelyan."

"Herald!" Cullen had been quick to object, turning so that he was fully facing her, and stepping forward so that his voice could be lowered. He'd lifted a hand to grab her by the arm, the grip gentle but firm. "This is not a good idea."

"The people are bored; what's the harm?"

"We cannot have the head of our Inquisition sparring anyone who challenges her. It will not look good on us to accept this proposal."

"It'll be fun, Commander. It's nothing to-"

He'd used that grip on her arm to pull her further aside, a quick glance sent over his shoulder to ensure the conversation had remained private. "No. You are underestimating her, My Lady. She is not just another mage; she is the Champion of Kirkwall. She single-handedly brought down an Arishok in a duel. She's taken down countless blood mages and she stood against Knight Commander Meredith."

"She attacks without enough caution, Commander. You forget that I've watched her in the field on various missions. She has no sense of defensive maneuvers, and she drains her mana far too quickly. I can take her."

"You can't, Herald," he'd insisted instead. "Not now, not in front of a crowd. She is trained to fight with physical weapons as well as magic. She doesn't need to worry about saving mana when she can just-"

"Commander, I thought you had nothing but faith in me?"

He'd held her gaze with ease, his expression stony. "And until now, you've given me no reason to question that."

The blow to her ego'd had her releasing a breath, but Evelyn'd only tried to pretend he hadn't said anything in the first place. "Hawke!" she'd called out. "You're on!"

"Inquisitor!" Cullen had all but hissed, the grip on her arm tightening for a moment.

She'd only tugged her arm away, correctly assuming that he wouldn't be willing to actually force the issue. She'd stepped away from him then, moving to the other end of the sparring ring and giving her staff a little twirl as she grinned back at the mage standing across from her.

"Cullen, Dear," Hawke had called after a moment, lifting her staff and pointing it at him, before using it to gesture for him to move to the side, "you're in my way."

He'd sent a pointed stare in the Inquisitor's direction before very reluctantly stepping outside of the ring. Evelyn had half expected him to turn and leave the ring altogether, but instead, he'd positioned himself at the front of the crowd, dropping his shield to the ground and leaning against the railing, both of his hands gripping the wood firmly.

"On three?" Evelyn'd offered, turning her attention back to her fellow mage. A firm nod had answered her, and she'd quickly spun the staff in her hand once more out of habit, before standing it firmly in front of her. "One-"

A fireball had erupted at her feet before she'd even managed to start the second word, but Evelyn stood amidst the flames without so much as a light burn. Her habitual spinning of her staff had been more than just a nervous action; she'd cast a barrier before she'd even begun counting.

"Two, three," Evelyn had muttered under her breath before raising her staff and moving to immediately counter the stonefist that was being aimed her way by summoning a wall of ice. Both spells had shattered, and both mages had been just as quick to launch another attack.

Or, at least, the Herald had been ready to launch another attack, but the slightest tingling in the back of her mind had caused her to hold off, instead choosing to trust her instincts and very quickly launch herself backwards. She'd released her staff from her hands before she'd hit the ground, tucking and rolling away just as a powerful wave of spirit energy slammed into her.

For a few seconds, she hadn't even been able to see, black filling her vision before being replaced with a swimming, silent world. She'd managed to lift herself up onto her side only a moment later, her blurry vision settling a bit when she'd caught sight of her fellow mage also lying on the ground, her body slumped and unmoving. But that hadn't been what had caught Evelyn's attention; no, the sight that had worried her more than anything had been the sight of the Commander, his skin seeming unnaturally pale as he leaned heavily into the railing, looking almost as drained as Hawke herself did.

The Inquisitor had been on her feet a few seconds later, stumbling only for the first two steps before she quickly made her way to the edge of the ring. On some level, she had been vaguely aware of someone in the crowd panicking, and of Varric leaping into the ring to go check on the fallen apostate. She'd paid both of them no mind, simply barking out an order for the crowd to part and stepping up to the former Templar. She had his arm over her shoulder by the time her ears were able to register anything other than the thud of her heartbeat. He hadn't fought her as she'd lead him up the stairs to the thrown room, hadn't so much as made a noise of objection when she'd pulled him away from prying eyes and brought him directly to her private quarters, helping him down onto her bed just as he nearly collapsed.

"Maker's breath, Commander!" she'd huffed out as she'd moved to the other side of her quarters, quickly pulling open her desk's drawer and shuffling through the contents within. "How late are you for your lyrium dose?"

"Months." Even with only one word, he'd managed to convey enough pain to have her wincing for him.

"Mo-" she'd started to repeat incredulously, before cutting herself off and looking up from her search to stare at him. "Cullen!" She'd had half a mind to resume her search with even more haste, but the look in his eye had her hesitating, and so she'd stood up to her full height instead, internally debating how to handle the situation. "You need lyrium. You can't just quit it, and you certainly can't quit it and go about using your Templar abilities like that! That was one powerful holy smite; you need to take some to-"

"No!" he'd interrupted before she'd had a chance to fully make her case. He'd sounded out of breath as he spoke, very nearly panting as an expression of pain had overtaken his usually serious one. "I won't be bound to that. I can't-" His words had died away then, a loud groan slipping past his lips as he'd pinched his eyes shut.

"You're in pain!" she'd been quick to object, pointing out the obvious and gesturing frustratedly in his direction, despite the fact that he couldn't have been able to see it with his eyes still closed.

"I can endure it." From the sound of his voice, though, she'd been hesitant to believe that he even believed in his words.

Giving her head a shake, she'd slammed the drawer shut without another word, turning to the bookcase behind her and snatching a lyrium potion off a lower shelf. She'd had the cork pulled out a second later.

"Don't!"

The loud objection had come from behind her, but she'd only blatantly ignored him, lifting the bottle up to her lips and downing a large gulp. The thing was discarded back on the shelf before she'd even felt the surge of her mana returning, but by the time she'd spun around and made it over to the side of her bed, she'd felt invincible. That feeling had likely had everything to do with her response. "You might be able to endure it, Commander, but I cannot. So here are your options: you either take some small amount of lyrium so that you don't die from over-exerting yourself, or you give me permission to try an alternative. So what'll it be? Do I have your permission to use my magic on you, or do I need to go back to searching for the particular form of lyrium that you've been avoiding for months now?"

Her question had hung in the air for far too long, but just before she'd gotten to her feet and decided to go back to her search, the Commander had offered her a small nod. But a nod was not an answer to a this-or-that question, and so she'd immediately rephrased to clarify the question, and he'd just as quickly nodded again.

She'd let out a breath, moving so that she was seated on the very edge of the bed beside him and lifting a hand to place over his breastplate. The contact should not have been strictly necessary for the intended spell, but creation magic had never been Evelyn's strong suit, and she'd figured she could use al the help she could get. She'd taken another deep breath, her eyes closing as she reached for her connection to the fade and focused all of her efforts into channeling the power from there. Slowly, she'd felt the magic flow from the fade into her, and as she'd let out the breath, she'd felt it flow from her into the tensed warrior. He'd seemed to relax a bit, then, undoubtedly recognizing the spell.

"Rejuvenation?" he'd asked quietly, his voice still holding traces of pain.

She'd opened her eyes then, sending a glance his way before getting to her feet and making her way back over to her desk. "It's not a quick fix," she'd admitted as she pulled open a different drawer, quickly snatching one of the small vials and bringing it over to him. "It's not the same as taking lyrium, but it will help your stamina regenerate, and that will feel somewhat similar for a little while. It takes time to build, though," she'd added, offering up the clear vial, "so I'd recommend taking this in the mean time."

The look he'd sent her way had made his question obvious.

"There's no lyrium in it; it's just to help with the pain."

The snort that had escaped him had been one of almost bitterness. "It won't work. Nothing will work. Only..."

"Try it," she'd instructed again. "Humor me."

He'd done as she'd asked, then, after heaving a self-sacrificing sigh, and she hadn't been able to hide the smile of amusement when he'd almost immediately dropped back to the bedding, his eyebrows furrowing out of confusion rather than pain. Even the confusion hadn't lasted long, however, for the sudden exhaustion that had crept into his expression had left him barely conscious.

He might have been right in assuming that nothing in existence could cure the pain of his lyrium withdrawals other than the one thing he refused to take, but he'd forgotten one thing Evelyn had long known to be true: if you couldn't cure the pain, you could still escape it. Sometimes all you needed was a good, dreamless sleep.

She'd removed the glass vial from his fingers as she watched his eyes droop further, a nagging thought in her mind worrying over whether he might break it and cut himself in his slumber. That same nagging section of her brain had also wondered whether he'd not be terribly uncomfortable sleeping in his armor like that, but that was a worry that she could easily ignore. And ignore it she'd done, placing the vial on the railing as she'd started to take her leave, but one last glance in the Commander's direction had had her pausing.

He'd been looking at her, through those heavily-lidded eyes of his, that little sideways smile of his playing on her lips. "You called me Cullen," he'd mumbled aloud before she'd been able to ask what was running through his mind.

She hadn't; she'd been sure she'd called him Commander, but because he looked so amused by the imagined slight, she hadn't corrected him. Instead, she'd only smiled softly and muttered something under her breath about drug-induced hysteria.

That was the memory that came to mind later that day, when she cornered Hawke and demanded to know what had been going through the woman's mind when she'd tried to provoke Cullen into a duel he didn't want.

"I couldn't help it," the apostate claimed. "He's too much fun to provoke."

"He's the Commander of the Inquisition's forces, Hawke," Evelyn stressed. "You can't just run around provoking him whenever you run out of shiny objects to play with!"

If the Champion was offended by the jab, she didn't show it. Instead, she only smiled ruefully and leaned back in her seat, fingers playing with the side of the mug that rested on the table before her. "Come on, Trevelyan. I honestly can't help it; you should know what I'm talking about."

Bewildered, the Herald only threw her hands into the air. "No, Hawke, I don't! Because I don't make a habit of running around and bothering the Templars!"

"Aha!" the apostate claimed then, leaning forward and jabbing a finger. "So you do get it!"

"Get what!?"

"The fun of it!"

She took a deep breath. "Hawke-"

"He's a Templar," the dark-haired woman suddenly confided, "so he's off-limits, but he's such a good man, and he has this absolutely adorable bashfulness that I don't understand how anyone could resist."

"I-" For a moment, the Herald could think of nothing to say in response, too stunned by where the conversation had ended up to respond. She cleared her throat after the wheels in her mind stopped turning. "You... uh, fancy my Commander, Hawke?"

"He's dragon's fruit," she answered. "Tempting, but you know you don't have a chance of actually getting to it. Tempting because you know you don't have a chance of getting to it. You can't tell me you haven't thought the same!"

Evelyn's mind immediately supplied her with the image of the sleep-induced sideways smile he'd given her as he succumbed to the sleeping drought she'd given him, the image of him lying peacefully on her own bed. "No," she told the apostate then, getting quickly to her feet and gathering her things. Her tongue felt heavy with the lie. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The Champion said nothing to contradict her - thankfully - but she did have something more to add to the conversation before the Herald had managed to slip out the door. "Inquisitor!" she'd shouted in declaration. "Just so we're clear: I do expect a rematch!"