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The first thing he felt when he awoke that morning was biting cold. Cullen shivered underneath his blankets, pulling the covers up to his chin. Odd—he wasn’t one to get cold easily. He’d grown accustomed to the hole in his roof long ago. He found the frigid air a balm on his skin after an episode of nightmares of lyrium withdrawal.
Finally, he pried his eyes open as cold tickled the back of his neck once more. The usually clear, starry sky above was now obscured by clouds and fat snowflakes whizzing at an angle past the hole in his loft. He sighed; scouts further out had warned of an incoming snowstorm, but Cullen had hoped it wouldn’t be here for a few days yet. At least the inquisitor and her party didn’t need to depart on a mission today. Travel in this blizzard would’ve been impossible. He felt his cheeks heat up at the thought of her and further burrowed himself into the blankets before he let himself drift into the Fade once again.
The wind had only continued to howl outside throughout the day, the occasional gust slipping through the arrow catches in his office. He had never been so glad for his mantle. He passed the first few hours of morning going through reports before collecting them into as neat a stack he could, securing them through his belt before letting his mantle fall back over them. He headed to the door leading across the bridge to Josephine’s office. His hand hesitated on the handle, bracing himself for the cold. He’d had to lock all the doors in his office to prevent them from blowing open and scattering everything everywhere. Finally, he slipped through and yanked the door closed again behind him.
The wind was relentless as he made his way across. Progress was slow and he couldn’t help but wonder if this is what it was like for Morgynn when she tried to escape Haven. She’d also been weak and wounded at the time. His heart clenched; he remembered the panic he’d felt, insisting that they leave remnants of the cooking fires against sad faces that didn’t have the heart to tell him the Herald’s odds of survival. But he’d been right. She’d survived, although barely. He remembered how she’d slumped against him after he’d wrapped his fur around her, sinking into him and protesting when the healers had tried to shoo him away. Eventually, he’d been forced to leave, but could still see her marked hand reaching for him, her blue eyes pleading.
Finally, he made it and slammed the door shut behind him. He first realized something was off when Solas had stifled laughter as Cullen passed him. Cullen nodded warily in greeting, frowning as a small, completely uncharacteristic giggle escaped the elf as he eyed a spot just above the commander’s head. He shook his head and continued to the main hall.
He paused as he entered Josephine’s parlor, moving to shut the door as quietly as he could. The ambassador and Morgynn sat cross-legged on the floor in front of a roaring fire. It was the most relaxed he’d seen both of them as they spoke in low tones. Neither had noticed him yet and Morgynn laughed at some story Josephine was telling. She was facing him and her smile lit up the room. It was so good to see her smile, especially after all the pressure she’d been slowly cracking under. A soft smile spread across his own face in return.
Finally, he cleared his throat, pulling the reports out from the protection of his mantle. Morgynn met his eyes and she twisted her mouth in a clear attempt to hide a smile. It wasn’t the warm smile she usually greeted him with; this one was more amused. Josephine turned and barely stifled a giggle behind her hand.
Cullen frowned, pausing mid-step. “Is something funny?”
“Not at all, Commander,” Morgynn answered smoothly, although a smile still ghosted her lips. Josephine could no longer contain her laughter and had turned back towards the fire. “Did you need something?”
“The reports you requested, Ambassador.” Cullen extended his hand to Josephine.
Josephine finally pulled herself to her feet, her smile wide and amused. “Thank you, Commander.” She quickly retreated to her desk, holding the papers up to mask the bottom half of her face.
Cullen held out his hand as Morgynn began to fold her legs underneath her. He had held her before—twice now, both after the destruction of Haven and in the stables several nights ago—but he prayed she wouldn’t notice the rising blush on his cheeks. Her hand was so small and warm in his. He longed to remove his gloves, only reddening further at the thought.
“So,” the inquisitor began, “I see you braved the storm outside.”
He chuckled. “Yes. It’s a little windy.”
She laughed, focusing on the same spot just above his head that Solas had earlier. “I can see that.” She paused, her gaze returning to his eyes. “Chess later?”
He couldn’t help but beam. “I would like that.”
She nodded, her mouth twisting oddly again before leaving the room. He nodded to Josephine, who merely giggled in return. He shook his head. Why was everyone acting so oddly? And why stare straight at the top of his head? Was there something wrong with his ha—
Oh no.
He quickened his step return to his tower, taking the winding ways where he knew the least amount of people would be. He fought through the blizzard outside once again, slamming his tower door shut behind him and shooting up his ladder. He quickly dug through his chest and found the small mirror he used every morning for styling his hair and shaving. He covered his face with his hand as he saw the wind had made his hair stand up in every direction possible—and even some directions Cullen hadn’t thought possible. Never mind the elf and the few nobles in the main hall. Of all people, of course Morgynn had to be the one to see him in all his curly disarray. And Josephine would surely tell Leliana. There was hardly a point in redoing it, since he would need to trek outside again for a meeting in the war room later today. He did own a thick tunic with a hood attached, but that would mean he would need to change out of his mantle and armor—which would probably mean explaining why he’d changed. He always wore his armor; surely people would notice if he suddenly wasn’t wearing it. Perhaps he could hold his hands over his head as he walked… No, that was ridiculous.
He dropped the mirror back into the chest and groaned.
He had found her huddled in the wind and snow several hours later, doubled over as her mark flared a violent, sickly green. Cullen had hardly been able to see her through the snowstorm on his way back to his tower. Morgynn’s form was unmistakable as she did her best to shield herself from the wind, her auburn hair whipping across her face. Images of finding her nearly frozen to death after Haven flashed through his mind and fear gripped him. He immediately threw off his mantle, rushing towards her. “Inquisitor!”
She risked a glance up, blinking profusely as the wind stung her eyes. Cullen wrapped the mantle around her shoulders as securely as he could. The storm had only worsened throughout the day and didn’t give a chance of letting up soon. “Cullen?” she asked in that same small, defeated voice she had after Haven.
His answer was the same as three months ago: “I’m right here.”
The mark crackled and flared to life in protest again. Morgynn cried out, clutching her arm and doubling over in pain again.
“My office is just there!” He pointed straight ahead, shouting over the wind. “Can you walk?”
She nodded and slowly stood, leaning heavily against him. He kept a tight arm around her shoulders. Her mark protested once more, forcing her to stop. “It’s all right,” he said against her ear. “You’re all right.”
Slowly but surely, they made their way to his office. Cullen slammed the door shut behind them, locking it to prevent it from blowing open. Morgynn stood frozen, clutching her arm to her chest and shivering. “Here, sit down.” He led her over to his desk chair, watching as she fell heavily into it, her eyes screwed shut tightly. He knelt by her and, without thinking, grabbed her marked hand, gently rubbing his thumb over the skin around the mark. “Oh—I’m sorry—” He tried to pull away, but she held fast to his fingers.
“T-that feels g-g-good,” she mumbled through chattering teeth.
Cullen’s heart thudded in his chest as he removed his gloves, rubbing smooth circles on Morgynn’s hand with his thumb. They sat in a comfortable silence for several minutes. Finally, her blue eyes met his and she smiled. “I like your hair.”
Cullen chuckled, running a hand through his wild curls. His hand continued on its path to rub at the back of his neck. “I, ah—well, um…” He met her eyes and laughed again, quickly looking away as he felt heat bloom across his face and neck.
Morgynn laughed. “I mean it though, it does—look good…” She trailed off, embarrassed herself and looking towards her shoes.
“I, ah…well, thank you.” Quiet reigned again for several minutes, Cullen’s thumb never ceasing it’s motion. The mark had slowly begun to quiet. “What were you doing out in the cold by yourself?”
“On my way to see you, actually,” she replied, shyly looking back up at him.
“Oh—did you need something?”
“Not really, we just…never got to our chess game. You mentioned earlier you had your own set we could play inside?”
He stared at her in surprise for a moment, a slow smile growing on his face.
She scrambled for words, misunderstanding his silence. “I mean, if you’re too busy or tired, we could always play some other time—”
“No! I’d love to. The set is just up in my loft, I have a table up there with a brazier if you feel all right.”
“Much better, thank you.”
They exchanged soft smiles and breathless laughs, quickly looking away once again. Cullen reluctantly let go of her hand and stood. He kept a firm grip around her shoulders as she pulled herself from his desk chair, shaking his head when she tried to slip his fur off her shoulders. He couldn’t deny the slight thrill that went through him as she wore his clothes. As they made their way towards his ladder, he vaguely remembered promising himself in the barn awhile ago that he would tell Morgynn of his feelings in the morning. He hesitated with a hand on the ladder. Would now be an appropriate time? They were alone…
“Are you coming?” Morgynn’s head poked over the top of the ladder.
“Yes, of course.” Just one more day surely wouldn’t do any harm.