Chapter Text
“You're not surprised.” Is Leliana's comment on the matter after Cullen puts the letter down on his desk without remark. She had brought it to him immediately, she said. No one had read it's contents but her.
“No.”
Leliana's head inclines slowly. “I had thought to ask if you were involved but your discomfort with this is answer enough.”
“He had... vows. I wasn't... I'm not.” He shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “I don't...”
Leliana would probe him for an answer but it could be anything; Cullen didn't like men, Cullen didn't like King Sebastian, Cullen didn't want a one night stand, Cullen didn't want to be used. None of it mattered. It is clear from looking at Cullen that whatever his reasons, he doesn't want this. “I will send our response.”
“Wait.” Leliana pauses, half way to the door. “H-he's... he's offering us... a lot of men.” Cullen swallows.
Leliana frowns. “His price is-”
“I know.”
“I won't allow it.”
Cullen stands and braces his hands on the desk. “It is neither yours to allow or disallow.”
“The Inquisitor-”
“Does not need to know.” Cullen takes a slow, steadying breath. “We've done worse at this point than... one night with a king.” His head hangs and he shakes it slowly. He's being ridiculous, the price is nothing for what it will gain them. The Inquisition needs this, Cullen will not fail. He looks up and fixes Leliana with a stern look. “Tell no one. I... I will handle the arrangements. I can sort out what is to be done during my… absence.”
Leliana moves towards him. “I will go with-”
Cullen shakes his head. “It is best no one suspects or... or that... Sebastian retracts his offer.”
The bard looks conflicted but is frowning hard at Cullen, like her terrifying will can sway him or present another option. She is no fool, however, and they need those men. Spymaster or not, Cullen knows she would not allow him this if she saw another way. That she does not present an alternative tells Cullen all he needs to know- he has to do this.
“Be safe. Please.” She says. Cullen wonders what it is he can see her shoving down; guilt, regret, disgust... grief? He gives her a weak smile.
“I'm always fine.”
“They are not the same thing.”
Cullen has nothing to say in return to that.
---
He supposes he shouldn't be surprised when Leliana hands him a legal document as he's saddling a horse one week later.
The letters have been sent and while Sebastian may have recently conquered Kirkwall, Cullen will not set foot there. The nightmares dog him enough without refreshing his memories of the broken city he remembers bathed in blood and fire. Sebastian had courteously agreed to Cullen’s request as he had matters to attend to back in Starkhaven as well. It suited both of them and Cullen tried not to let the cold negotiation of it all shake his nerve.
"Take someone." She says as his gaze flicks over the paperwork. He spies the words 'will not be harmed bodily' and feels sick as he pushes it to the bottom of a saddle bag. "Anyone. Please." It is twice now that Leliana has pleaded with him and Cullen almost relents.
“I am taking soldiers.” Cullen says, what few they can spare. The Inquisition is spread so thin and they both know it.
“Then one of the Inquisitor’s companions.”
“They must remain here, in case the Inquisitor has need of them.” He finishes securing the last of his supplies and turns to her with a strained smile. “I assure you, Leliana, I will be alright.” He isn’t thinking about it, doesn’t think beyond the goal of reaching Starkhaven.
She is frowning at him still and he awkwardly pats her shoulder, staggering back in surprise as she embraces him suddenly. They exchange no more words and she leaves, spinning on her heel. Another secret to the vault she carries with her. Cullen would feel guilty for adding to her burden if he wasn’t well aware it was her who brought the missive to him, knowing his sense of duty, knowing what his response would be. He does not blame her… but he does not sympathise with the guilt.
---
The journey to Starkhaven does not takes as long as he might have liked.
The ship over the Waking Sea is not waylaid overly by storms. They avoid Kirkwall entirely, Cullen not even brave enough to dock in the port without fear of the memories it might bring. He stays below deck at the idea he might even catch sight of the city. Their trek through the Vimmark Mountains is not slowed either and Cullen’s men are in high spirits, all things considered, so he makes every effort not to take out his anxiousness on them.
He would hazard they will arrive at Starkhaven a full day ahead of when he had estimated in his final letter to Sebastian. Cullen cannot ignore the way his hands shake when his mind drifts to thinking of what will happen when they arrive. A day’s ride away and he doesn’t sleep at all.
Their early arrival does not seem to be unwelcome, a procession of nobles and soldiers ready to meet them and escort them to Starkhaven’s castle. Sebastian is not with them, then again, Cullen is not nobility or royalty. That he has demanded Cullen’s company for a night does not broker adoration, the whim of it making Cullen flush that he had thought… Cullen shakes his head of whatever romanticised notions he was clinging to. This was a deal. A negotiation of… resources. There was no ulterior motive here beyond Sebastian’s whimsical desire to have him for a night.
An advisor approaches Cullen when he and his men, having dismounted and entered the castle finally, stand to attention in the foyer. The opulence does nothing for Cullen, he is unmoved by wealth even if all the propriety makes his skin itch in discomfort. “His highness has granted you and your men quarters for the week.” The advisor, gestures for his men to be escorted away and Cullen fights the apprehension he hadn’t anticipated at being left alone. “I shall escort you to your quarters this evening, however his highness has requested you visit his office upon your arrival.” Cullen does not think this man’s nose knows an elevation that is not permanently looking down on others. He wishes Varric were here to make comment, instead inclining his head and following after the man.
His anticipation picks up with each step, palms sweating in his gloves and the bag at his side feels heavy with obligation. The contract Leliana had drawn up for him seals this deal and Cullen feels sick at the weight of it around his neck. He has not seen Sebastian since Kirkwall’s chantry was destroyed. He had seen in the courtyard, watched as that soft smirking face of prince unsure of his title changed. The rage had bore a king in the ashes of the Chantry burning to the ground and Cullen was unsure where that rage-filled King and that soft spoken Prince balanced now. It was the prince who had coveted Cullen, something Cullen had presumed a passing fancy and now gone. He has, apparently, been mistaken.
They halt at an intricately decorated door and the advisor opens the door, Cullen’s breath halting with his feet and it is difficult to get moving again as the advisor hurries him into the room beyond but does not follow.
Now, he is alone.
“Hello, knight-captain.”
Or not.
Cullen turns in the direction of the voice and forces his hands still as he sees Sebastian. The King is reclining against a window, facing Cullen rather than peering out, dressed in loose fitting clothes and utterly at ease. For all his armour, it is Cullen who feels vulnerably exposed under the King’s gaze. It cuts through him, coveting and hungry even in its stillness. There is a ruthlessness there now that Cullen does not think was before.
“Rather, it is Commander now, is it not? Commander of the Inquisition.” Sebastian rolls the title around his mouth, curling his accent around the syllables and Cullen does not know what to do or say. Should he go straight to business? These pleasantries chafe no matter the circumstance and these are certainly uncomfortable circumstances as it is.
“U-uh, yes. T-that is my title now.” He remarks falteringly. The hand on the bag at his side flexes uncertainly, swallowing as Sebastian stands straight fluidly and chuckles at Cullen’s fumbling.
“Would you like a drink, Commander? You seem to be ill at ease.” Sebastian is already pouring them both a drink and Cullen does not think he can refuse. He steps a little further into the room, shuffling and clutching the contract from his bag like a shield.
“Y-yes, that would be… uh, well, I h-have… there’s some… matters. To attend to.” When Sebastian turns and steps closer they are too close.
There is scarce room to breath between them and Cullen stops breathing entirely for a beat. Sebastian sets down Cullen’s glass on the table Cullen had stepped towards, fingers so sure as they they grasp the contract in Cullen’s trembling hands.
“Straight to business as always, Commander.” Sebastian inclines his head, the heat of his fingers over Cullen’s gloved hand as he takes the papers lingering as Cullen reaches for his glass the moment he has been released.
He steps around the table away from Sebastian under the pretence of examining the room they are in while Sebastian turns the pages. It isn’t until Cullen sees past a folded room divider to the most decadent bed he has seen since the Winter Palace that he realises he is standing in a bedroom. Most likely, Sebastian’s bedroom. His glass is empty and he clutches the glass, throat dry as he stares through the gap of the room divider at the bed, face flushed and starting to tremble again. Is he really doing this? Is he going to do this? Selling himself to someone he knows, to a King, for soldiers? For an army? At what point do his morals override his duties? Do they ever? He is a soldier, a tool, a blunt instrument. He does what is necessary for the results he needs. He is brutal and ruthless and spiteful on the battlefield; this is no different. A different sort of battlefield; but the rules are the same. For the outcome he needs, he plays the game.
“It has been on your mind, hasn’t it?” Cullen jumps, Sebastian’s breath brushing past his ear as the King stands at his back and Cullen cannot cover the way his breath hitches as Sebastian chuckles again. “How tightly you are wound, I’d say you’ve thought of little else.” Sebastian steps back and Cullen turns slowly.
The king has settled himself in an armchair now, one leg cocked over the arm in what should be an un-kingly manner but the arrogant assuredness of his stance leaves Cullen no doubts as to where the power lies in this room. Sebastian has a quill in his hand and the contract is open, hand poised as he considers Cullen.
“You know what happens when I sign.” Cullen nods. “You were always so aloof and distant in Kirkwall, but now…” Sebastian smiles, small and satisfied. “Strip.”
Cullen blinks, certain he misheard. “I-I’m sorry?”
“Strip.” Sebastian repeats, the faintest crease of a frown on his brow that lets Cullen know he would do well to be obedient this evening. “I wish to see what it is I am buying.” It should be degrading, humiliating even, and it is but Cullen can see heat in Sebastian’s gaze. It is the same lust that he had seen aimed at him from over Hawke’s shoulder what felt like so long ago. Guarded now, but Cullen is not a threat and they both know it. The mask slips just enough for Cullen to see under it for all the power game Sebastian is playing he knows that it is lustful desire that drives him.
He wants Cullen.
He covets Cullen.
He will give them what they ask for if he can have Cullen.
Cullen looks at the quill hovering over the contract and he drops his bag to the floor.
He is dirty and tired from travelling but not dreadfully so, though he is sure a King will be used to finer things than stale sweat and sore muscles. Cullen thinks he should be making a show of this but he already feels like a cow up for auction, his assets being weighed by eye, and he removes his clothing with military efficiency. He lays his gloves and robe out on the table, his armour next with heavy clunks. He tells himself his hands aren’t shaking again as he takes what little protection he had been bolstered by and lays himself bare before the King.
Cullen’s hands hesitate at the waistband of his smalls but something in Sebastian’s gaze makes him feel a trickle of power here. Sebastian has wanted him for so long and the anticipation on his face is the control Cullen has.
He pushes his smalls down his thighs, letting them fall the rest of the way and taking a shaky breath as he stands there- in the King of Starkhaven and Kirkwall’s bedroom, naked as the day he was born, under the King’s critical gaze.
Sebastian eyes him; blatant and unhidden in his appraisal. His gaze lingers over Cullen’s cock and his hands twitch as he forces himself not to cover himself. Sebastian’s mouth curls in what could be amusement or approval, Cullen isn’t sure he’s all that desperate to know which, before he lazily waves one hand at Cullen. “Touch yourself.”
Cullen blanches, “W-what?!”
“Touch. Yourself.” Sebastian stresses each word, a challenge in his tone that Cullen isn’t sure he should push as he reminds himself what they stand to lose here if Cullen does not please Sebastian.
“I-I d-don’t… think that I-I… can?” He offers meekly.
“Try.” Is Sebastian’s uncaring response, almost bored as he watches Cullen agonise over the order.
Fear over having come this far and messing it up at this point moves Cullen’s hand, unsteady as it is, to grip his flaccid cock. Too tight, too much and he flushes, red overtaking the pale shock and now shame takes hold.
“Slower. Work yourself up first.” The bored tone is gone, Sebastian’s voice low and gentle in it’s direction.
Cullen obediently lets go of his cock and instead trails one hand over his hip, across the scratch of his pubic hair, and up the dips of muscles over his belly. He attempts to ease the tension in him but the prickle of Sebastian’s gaze on him doesn’t let him relax. Instead, Cullen tries to make a show of this instead. He has been told his appearance is pleasing, knows that Sebastian must think so if he desires him so wholly, so Cullen touches his body where he thinks Sebastian might like to. His hands trace over his chest, his sides, nails dragging over his thighs. His cock stirs slowly, so timidly unsure even as lust bubbles in his belly.
The strangest part is that the sense of Sebastian’s gaze never lifts and instead, Cullen finds it fueling his desire. Cullen can’t say he has ever felt so wholly, rapturously desired in his entire life. This King would sell armies for a chance to lay with Cullen, like he was some great prize. Cullen dares to look over at Sebastian as his fingers move over his cock now, one hand tracing the now hard length as the other presses nails into his inner thigh.
Sebastian is still, too still. He is forcing himself still. His gaze never leaves Cullen, though drifting between his face and his cock as Cullen hardens more and takes a firmer grip of himself. This time the grip is pleasing. Still not slick enough as he gathers precome on his palm and slides slowly into his own grip, hips moving just a little as his breathy gasps fill the silence of the room.
He sounds whorish to his own ears, and the reality that that is what he is here burns his face scarlet, shame fueling- not quelling- the lust in his belly and he bites his lip. Need is creeping up on him. It’s been so long since he even touched himself let alone indulged in another person’s company- the Inquisition demands all he can give, he will give no less than everything- that he lacks stamina or prowess in the moment. His hips buck hard into his hand and he bites down hard on a whimper but even the muffled sound is loud in the silent room.
Cullen is going to come.
Naked, in a King’s bedroom, watched in his shame.
He wants to come like this, is the startling thought that has him leaking into his palm. Cullen’s mouth drops open and he’s shamefully close from so little, eyes fixed on Sebastian- wide with shock and want.
“Stop.”
The order doesn’t register and Cullen whines as his hand twists just so on the head of his cock.
“Cullen. Stop.” Sebastian says, firmer and louder.
Cullen stills, breath ragged and so close he’s wild with need, staring at Sebastian in shock. The King signs, a scratch of sound between them, and the contract is closed with a flourish of papers which Sebastian discards to the table as he stands. “Redress.”
“But-” Cullen’s breath starts to slow and he stares at Sebastian in disbelief. “Is that… is that all you wanted?”
“Not at all. You are mine for a night. That night will be tomorrow night.” Sebastian smiles, what should be warm instead predatory and promising all at once. “For now, you will redress and walk to your quarters to sleep.” Sebastian pauses at the room divider. “Oh and Commander? Do not touch yourself. You will not come until I say so, am I clear?”
Cullen’s eyes widen but he chokes out, “Y-yes, y-your majesty.”
“Good. Sleep well, Commander.” Sebastian slides the room divider across behind him and Cullen is left naked and hard in Sebastian’s parlour. He dresses frantically and all but flees outside where he hurries the advisor to show him his room where he hides for the rest of the evening.