Chapter Text
Haven had grown darker and colder as the winter dragged on. The morning had seen snow, only for the afternoon sun to melt it and the evening winds to glaze the landscape with sheets of dark ice. Above, the Breach cast a silver-green light dancing across the mud-slicked soldiers’ tents, which was countered only by the glowing fire and growing darkness.
Commander Cullen stood just at the edge of the firelight. He would wait until the recruits had all eaten before partaking himself. Everyone was tired, but at least they would be fed. Besides, when all he did was look at maps, write letters and dispense training advice, it was less important that he stay nourished than those who left Haven with blades in their hands.
He was tired, however, with a dull ache beginning to pulse behind his eyes. He refused to acknowledge it. No time, he thought. If it became a problem, he would speak to the others, but until then, it was his burden, and his alone.
“Long day?” Came a voice behind him, and he turned to look.
Lady Trevelyan was shuffling towards him in the darkness, a small smile on her face. She was wrapped from chin to shins in a wool blanket with a pair of bulky leather boots poking out beneath.
“My Lady,” Cullen bowed his head as she joined him just beyond the fire light. He looked at her once more, this time noticing that her hair was down, something he’d never seen before. “I wonder. Is there a reason you’ve ventured out here into the cold?”
She shrugged lightly and pulled the blanket closer around herself. “Can’t sleep,” she said, “Thought I’d take a walk. Talk to the stars.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She chuckled. “When I was a little girl, I used to talk to the stars because my mother told me that they were looking after me while the rest of the world slept.” Smiling and looking to the sky, she added, “At least… They did until that thing happened.”
“M’lady,—"
“Please, we’re not in the War Room. Call me Cora.”
He pondered her for a moment, trying to gage if she was serious. “I… Don’t think I’m comfortable with that.
“Yet.”
Cullen looked over at the Herald, but she was looking at the stars, firelight bouncing off her cheeks and making her eyes glitter.
“You know, my father and I used to go hunting together when I was young," she said softly, almost to the point Cullen had to strain to hear her.
“You’re still young.”
“Younger, then,” She corrected, jabbing Cullen in the ribs playfully. “We used to take a tent and the dogs and spends weeks out in the wilds. He taught me to track and to trap; how to string a bow, fletch my own arrows… I learned so much from him.”
“Where is he now?” Cullen asked tentatively, preparing to apologize for bringing it up.
“Home, with mum, and the dogs.” She sighed and leaned her head to the side. “He’d hate for me to tell you this but he’s gotten a bit creaky in his old age.” She paused, apparently noticing two recruits huddled together for warmth by the fire. Or, perhaps for more than warmth. “Cullen, I have a rather odd request.”
“… Yes, My Lady?”
“If we’re going to be here much longer, would it be inappropriate for me to send for my dogs? They’re all workers. They could be an early warning system or go out with Scout Harding or—“
“I’m sure that would be fine. Lady Josephine would probably be happy to oblige. Or, at least pretend she’s happy.”
Cora giggled and pushed a hand back through her hair.
“I suppose you’re right,” She said, pulling the blanket up to her ears. “Do you like dogs?”
“Am I Ferelden?” Cullen laughed.
“You’ll like them, then. Fierce and loyal as any Mabari, even if they are mutts, the lot of them.”
“You speak as if there are a lot of them…” Cullen said tentatively. Although the Inquisition had been together for a few months, he had not spent much one-on-one time with the Herald, and had yet to figure out how to read her.
“There are. But not so many they’ll get in the way.”
“If you insist.” Cullen smiled and glanced at her once more. He couldn’t be certain, but he guessed she had not properly dressed to come outside. She hid it well, but she was trembling.“Your lips are blue.”
“What?” Cora looked at him, seeming startled by his words.
“Here,” He said at length, unfastening the cloak from his shoulders.
“Oh, really. You don’t have to do that.”
“No,” He said, “I don’t.” He wrapped the cloak around her and set it squarely on her shoulders.
She nodded her thanks, suppressing a smile to accept her defeat. Her hands wriggled free from the blanket and pulled the cloak around herself. She lifted her shoulders so that the trim nearly overtook her head and drew her mouth into an extensive frown. “Do I look like you?”
Cullen snorted. “Like looking in a mirror.”
Cora smiled and edged ever so slightly closer to the commander. He appreciated it, though he would not speak it unless asked. Without the cloak, the metal of his armor was growing quickly cold and would begin to burr his skin at any moment.
They chatted on about nothing for some time. She pointed out constellations she’d learned and he would name the troops as they stood up to head for their tents. They discussed strategy, and the coming days, and the likelihood of Cassandra taking down a bear with only her hands.
“Bear-handed,” Cora snorted, and Cullen smiled despite himself.
“If there’s a fiercer woman alive, I have not met her.”
“Cheers to that!” Cora laughed, hoisting an imaginary cup of ale to the sky and as Cullen looked at her, he realized that for how often she smiled, she meant it so rarely. He wondered what she was like before this, before the mark, before Herald.
He decided she was lovely.
“Oh, Maker’s pants… What time is it?” She said suddenly, looking around. The fire the troops had been sitting around was nearly burnt out, and the troops themselves had gone to bed. “I should—“
“You should—“
They both laughed, softly, like a joke whispered during a sermon.
“I should probably go back inside,” She said at last, looking at him. He nodded, and for some reason, found himself looking at her lips quite a lot. Unprofessional.
“Of course, Your Worship.”
Cora turned to leave, got a full two steps away before turning on her heel and marching back to Cullen’s side. “Almost forgot!” She whispered, unfastening the cloak.
“Oh, no, really. You can hold onto it for now,” Cullen insisted, but the coat was already in his hands.
“I know. But think of the rumors that would start if the Herald showed up to breakfast wearing the Commander’s attire?”
Cullen was thankful for the dark, because he could feel his cheeks flush. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Good night, Cullen.”
“Good night, My Lady.”
She gave him one last smile before flipping the edge of the blanket up around her head and shuffling off towards Haven proper. Once she passed the gate of the town, he sighed and his hand found itself instinctively on the back of his neck.
He might be in trouble.
The cloak was still warm when he wrapped it around himself, and as he inhaled, he could smell her skin on the feathers.
He was definitely in trouble.