Cullen is left critically wounded when an Assassin enters Skyhold. Evelyn can't bear to let him go and Cullen can't bear to leave. He loves her too much.

CommanderXInquisitor

Cullen rarely took his armour off before a public meeting and there was a reason for that, but this time he decided against his usual attire, leaving most of his bulky armour in his chambers. Little did he know that would be an almost grave mistake.

Stood watching refugees pour through Skyhold's doors, Cullen felt pretty safe stood beside the Inquisitor as she sat on the throne, her eyes scanning each face and smiling when she caught the gaze of an awestruck child.

The Great Hall welcomed anybody in need. Varric could be heard bellowing a merry welcome to anyone who would listen, likely concocting a new chapter in his saga, zipping around from person-to-person fishing for stories he could exaggerate.

Nobody could predict the violent turn such an event would take. Not even with all the guards present and the Inquisition's main party scattered about the room.

The Commander watched as a frail, elderly woman stopped short of the Inquisitor. She gazed up as if she saw the Maker before her.

A small ageing woman with greying hair and a curved frame began to approach the throne, taking a cautious and unsteady pace up the steps to meet the Auburn woman sat watching.

Cullen's instincts kicked in almost immediately as he stepped forward to prevent the older lady getting any closer. But a soft and graceful hand touched the small of his back, stopping him in his tracks, leaving his skin warm but suddenly lonely.

Evelyn merely glanced into his eyes and it was enough to convey her message. She wanted to meet this lady, she wanted to listen to the ramblings as the elder gave thanks and praise to the Herald. It was a tiresome process meeting every dignitary, every refugee and every soldier that wanted to speak with the Inquisitor but she always took the role on with honour and strength, never showing signs of growing weary.

Cullen watched in silent admiration for the woman who took on so much, during such a dark time.

A stunning rogue stood in a deep blue tunic, complimenting her entire figure as she cupped the hands of an elderly woman. Evelyn's hair glistened as it rested on one shoulder and her ocean blue eyes reflected only love and understanding. His heart always skipped whenever he laid eyes on her, even before coming to Skyhold, she could make him flutter without saying a word.

Maker, she was the most beautiful creature.

Perhaps being distracted by such a woman was the reason he missed the unusual hooded figure, skirting the sides of the great hall and approaching the throne.

The only warning Cullen had was a small commotion to his right as guards tried to prevent the figure getting any closer, his attention pulled away from Evelyn, only long enough to come face on with a snarling face and a hot blade.

A crude dagger with serrated edges tore open the Commander's skin, forcing its way into his body to the hilt and revealing the most excruciating heat never felt before.

For a few seconds, Cullen stood, dumbstruck by the brazen face of evil as the world grew silent. The sounds of chattering no longer echoed through the halls and the internal conversation in his mind fell silent.

It was only when the face yanked the blade from his body, tearing the air from his lungs, the Commander realise what was happening but he was already powerless to stop it.

All of a sudden his heart was pounding in his chest, screaming to tell him something was wrong. His lungs heaved for air but caught again when the Assassin ripped his way back in, an almighty arm wrapping around his victim, pulling them both closer together.

Cullen's hands grasped for the knife but he was unable to pull his attackers hand away, unable to stop him from wiggling the blade before wrenching it back out. He was already too slick with blood.

The next thing Cullen knew, he was half laid on the steps in front of the throne, his body a sprawled mess as he bled out from the two angry wounds in his stomach.

He was gasping for breath all the while staring up at the rafters, wooden beams stretching across the Hall, stopping the ceiling from caving in on them.

"Cullen!" Somebody's voice broke through for a few seconds but he wasn't sure where it came from, off to his left somewhere. "Cullen?"

Fingers and hands abruptly appeared at his sides, pressing and prodding his afflictions, making him scream out in pain. But there was only one pair of hands he cared for and as they grabbed his face, he felt an unusual sense of peace.

Evelyn's face appeared only inches from his own, her electric blue eyes flashing with fear as they met his. He didn't want her to be afraid.

Her hands were always so warm, he noticed that whenever they brushed in the War Room, her skin so soft and smooth. They ghosted his cheeks, fingers ran through his hair and back down to his chin as she tried to comfort him.

It didn't matter. She was there with him. If it was time, then it was time. "Ev-Evelyn..."

She smiled a weak, watery smile and leant down closer, the tip of her nose just touching his. "It's okay." She looked away for a few moments, down to the chaos of people at Cullen's feet before looking back.

He didn't ever want her to look away again.

His heart skipped again when their eyes reconnected, letting him smile and ignore the feeling of warm blood as it tickled his fingertips.

It felt like an eternity when his hand finally reached up, heavy and aching like he'd been swinging a broad sword for hours. But it was bliss when he finally touched her skin, the warmth radiated into his cold, calloused hand.

Cullen wanted to speak and tell her everything he felt in the last few minutes of his life.

He wanted to tell her how much he loved seeing her walk the battlements in the fading sun, how he worshipped the way she danced in battle, even the way she held her cool during debates.

He needed to tell Evelyn that he never intended to give back the book he borrowed, that way she would have to come to find it. He wanted to tell her how his lyrium addled dreams weren't always bad, sometimes they were so unbelievably hot he would wake up panting for air, he would force himself not to climb out of bed and jump into hers.

But between the blood rushing from his body and the stone cold steps, he could hardly push out her name.

"Evelyn..."

She placed her hands over Cullen's, not caring if he smeared blood over her face. Pulling her closer still, her silky smooth mouth just millimetres from his but he couldn't do it.

His racing heart, his aching lungs and the driving pressure in his stomach made it impossible. So he just stared into her eyes, committing every freckle and wild hair to his memory so he could die with the woman he loved guiding him to peace.

The fierce change in her face said enough, he was losing his fight.

Cullen could feel his eyes burning and growing heavy, his arms becoming weaker by the second. The pain began to dull with the world around him, it was almost impossible to hear his name being called out, so he just laid there waiting to meet the Maker.

"Evelyn."