Dragon Age: The Silences Song

Chapter 2:

Cullen stood at the edge of the gathering crowd, his gaze drifting over the sea of unfamiliar faces. The only familiar sight among all these faces was the statue of Andraste to his left. Everyone he knew was off searching for clues about Solas or attempting to soothe the fragile peace that hung over Thedas. He didn't want his own family here; this didn't truly feel like a wedding to him—just another piece of the puzzle. He was just a pawn, a pawn who gladly offered himself for the sake of Thedas, but still a pawn.

"Nervous?" A familiar voice broke through his thoughts. Cullen turned to see her leaning casually against the pillar next to the altar. A whole new sense of familiarity and joy spread through him.

"Inquisitor," he replied, a genuine smile forming on his lips, as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension coiling there. "What are you doing here?"

"My commander needs a best man," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she smiled back at him.

The thought of someone else being there brought him a fleeting happiness, but a sudden realization shattered that joy, and his smile faded away. "What about him?" Cullen asked, the hurt evident in his voice.

"I'm sure the Dreadwolf can wait a day," she said with a light laugh. She stepped closer, the warm glow of her confidence wrapping around him like a comforting embrace as she took her place beside him at the altar.

"I hear she's beautiful," she leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"No one could ever be as beautiful as you, Inquisitor," he said, the sincerity in his voice reflecting the emotion shimmering in his eyes.

They locked gazes, her mouth unable to form the words she wanted to say. After a few moments, she finally managed to utter, "Cullen—" But whatever she intended to express was cut short as the music began, signaling the start of the ceremony. Instantly, they both turned toward the end of the long walkway, unspoken words lingering heavily between them.

The first thing Cullen noticed were the bright blue eyes of Sebastian—those eyes he despised more than he cared to admit. Anger bubbled up inside him. It took a moment for him to shift his gaze to the woman walking beside Sebastian, her hand firmly locked around her cousin's arm. A cascade of shining raven-colored hair, gently curled at the ends, caught his attention. His gaze trailed up her milky-white skin, finally locking onto her ocean-blue eyes. They didn't resemble Sebastian's; they were not hard and filled with hate but soft and compassionate. She noticed his stare, and her lips curled into a smile, drawing him in even more. As they approached, he felt the rhythm of his heart begin to race.

"Told you." A whisper broke his trance, he turned to find the Inquisitor smiling at him. Reality broke back in. A sense of hatred filled his heart again. This was the family who nearly ruined Kirkwall. As they approached the altar, Cullen turned his attention to the revered mother, who was preparing for the ceremony. He deliberately avoided the gazes of Sebastian and his bride. The sooner this was over, the faster he could leave.

The ceremony passed in a blur. Cullen had shut himself off from all emotion, barely registering the events until he found himself seated at a table, listening to the prince's laughter echo among the nearby nobles. The food in front of him sat untouched, his stomach churning at the thought of eating. Instead, he reached for the wine, drinking just enough to dull the edge of the evening.

"Hawke sends her regards. She would have come, but figured Sebastian wouldn't be too pleased—considering the whole Anders situation." The Inquisitor took a seat beside him, pouring herself a glass of wine as she spoke.

"Thank the Maker," Cullen muttered, rolling his eyes. "The last thing I need is to keep Hawke from spiking the wine or assassinating a noble."

"She's not that bad," the Inquisitor laughed, shaking her head.

"She's worse," he muttered, turning to her as her face began to blur. The wine was starting to take its toll. "Any news?" he asked solemnly.

"Do you really want to talk about this right now?"

"Please, I need a distraction," he pleaded.

"You're ignoring your wife," she said, glancing at him, but he only raised an eyebrow in response. She sighed in defeat. "No news. Our agents can't find any trace of him. I even asked Leliana, but she can't afford to make any bold moves with the Chantry under fire."

"He'll resurface," Cullen muttered.

"Varric and Harding apparently have a lead," she said. "I haven't spoken to them yet, but they're onto something big. We'll discuss this later, Cullen. Enjoy your night." She stood up and walked toward the exit.

Cullen stared down at the red liquid in his cup, longing for dwarven ale or something stronger. With a single gulp, he drained the contents, hoping the burn would chase away his worries and hopefully end the night early.