Not. At. All. Let me tell you, Sidni feels ridiculously exposed and uncomfortable in that dress, so dancing with Eurydice would make her feel way better. Also, the Orlesians being envious of how flawless they look together would bring her great joy.
Day 4: “Just take your time.” – prompt by @shannaraisles
If you want to read a tiny bit of background on this one, check out the drabble here. I know I’m a few days behind, but my computer is currently being held hostage under paint tarps and a furniture pile so I’m doing what I can with my phone! Also, I’m sorry not sorry this is not as fluffy as the others.
She brings Cullen back. He’s bruised, battered, and very quiet. Their friends fuss over him in the courtyard of Skyhold. She watches him pushing them away, eyes searching the small crowd around himself. Dorian and Varric are doing the same.
Looking for her.
She doesn’t want to hear the grief they will undoubtedly give her. She lost them on purpose when she knew they were following. It’s almost a relief to acknowledge that she kept a few secrets. Is still capable of surprising them. She didn’t want any of her friends walking blindly into danger.
Cullen is still shaking the others off, now scanning the shadows. He won’t find her. She doesn’t want him to.
She glances down to the bloody dagger dangling from its belt. Her breath rattles, speeds, images flashing behind her eyes. Cullen, hazy with whatever concoction Lorcan had poisoned him with, bloodied and weak. Hurt. In danger. Because of her.
Her attention, her love, had set the fucking bounty on him. The moment she grew weak to him, she turned him into a target.
“You’ve gone soft, Parsha. I could kill him now and you’d beg me not to. Once, you would have slit his throat yourself.”
She had begged, only just remembering to temper it with negotiation. To hide some of her weakness. And when she thought she had won …
Her spine straightens. Stone settles over her. She has something to see through. The time of playing make-believe and false family is over. When this is all finished, she’ll be on her way. They will all be safe.
Cullen is deemed fit to return to work, provided he takes it easy and lets himself heal. He has Dorian, Cassandra, Varric, and even Bull watching, so he’s forced to be slow and let some of his work fall to his lieutenants. For several days, he chomps at the bit.
Sidni disappears. He’s assured she’s been glimpsed around Skyhold in the weeks that follow, but no one – not even Dorian – has spoken to her. She conveniently slips away when anyone attempts to get close. Fear, the likes of which he hasn’t felt in a long while, settles in his heart.
He knows. When she had come for him, he’d never seen that expression on her face. Even in the heat of battle, there had always been a softness to her. When she stepped into the hideout, facing her father, he finally found himself seeing who she had once been.
Lying awake at night, feeling the empty space beside him, he replays the taunts her father had thrown at her. Each one struck at who she had become, away from his merciless hand. For just a moment, he was back at Kinloch, helpless and trapped and watching someone he cared for face down incredible danger. Perhaps that had been Cullen’s only advantage, knowing Sidni, knowing his Inquisitor, and watching how she took each harmful word as fuel for her anger. She’d used it, bargained his release and never faltered, even while staring down the one person he knew terrified her.
He thinks of her face after, of the way he’d watched her shatter, betrayal and blood splashed across her features. Her scream had tugged at him, sending a chill through his very soul. For too long, she hadn’t heard him, wouldn’t respond. His cries to the Maker went unanswered.
Then the spell broke and she was bandaging him, treating him like something fragile in her hands. They’d made their way back to Skyhold in silence. She’d left him in the courtyard in the care of their friends and gone.
Ever since, she’s avoided anyone who attempts to get close for reasons other than Inquisition business. And though he’s tried to tell himself it would be alright, her continued absence says otherwise. The day he finds the necklace with his coin wrapped up on his desk, he can deny it no longer.
He finally faces her over the War Table. She doesn’t make eye contact with any of them longer than is necessary. Her smile is gone. The ease they had fought so hard for … missing.
He stares at the stranger sitting where his lover should be. She’s all rigid lines and distance. His heart falls.
He misses the soft look she gave him. Her quiet shadow at his side. Her hand in his.
He misses her.
“Sidni.”
She’s focused on her paperwork, but he’s staring at her. He sees how she tenses. And he realizes she looks brittle. When she glances up, the flash of longing in her eyes is enough for him to suddenly understand.
He takes a breath and circles the desk. She’s on her feet in a flash, backing away like a frightened animal.
“Sidni, please. Speak to me.”
Her chin lifts. “Was there a problem with the report I sent, Commander?”
“Sidni.” His voice comes out harsher than he means, but he presses forward. She steps backward again, but he follows, his hands reaching for hers. She tenses as their fingers twine, and then she’s crumbling, frantically fighting for the pieces of her composure.
If he could, he would drag that bastard back and see him hanged for all he’s done.
“This was not your fault,” he breathes, pulling her close and kissing her forehead. “No one could have foreseen this.”
Her silence says she thought she could.
“I am not going anywhere. I love you no less.”
Her breath hitches. But when he pulls her close, she doesn’t resist. He holds her, loose enough that she can slip free if she wishes. She leans into him, but her arms remain at her sides.
He can’t help feeling her father has destroyed something precious between them. Maker damn him, Cullen will not let it stand.
“The others worry for you. As do I. Please, Sidni. When you are ready, come back to us. Just … take your time.”
And though it feels like he’s carving his heart out, he gives one last kiss to her hair and sets her necklace on her desk as he leaves.
His weight falls against the closed door to her quarters. Maker, he thinks, bring her back to me.
do you ever get cuddle frustrated? Not sexually frustrated, but just get really frustrated and asdfghklg because you’re not cuddling someone right now and you just really need to feel someone with their arms around you and bury your face in their neck and just feel them close
Maker's Breath 