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Cullen is tired. Running the Inquisition’s troops wasn’t supposed to be that much different from what he did back in Kirkwall, but after the explosion of the Conclave it shifted to something much bigger, that he is still struggling to adapt to. The Herald’s alliance with the mages only added more paperwork to his already cramped little office, more instability to a situation already volatile, and would keep adding to it until long after the bulk of the rebel mages arrived. Cullen hoped that this time the Herald would be able to close the Breach, to make all this worth it.
The Herald. Sometimes Cullen felt dealing with her was the most tiresome thing his job entailed - usually days like these, when they had already had one screaming match before breakfast was even served, when he's left uneasy and restless, with a bad taste on his tongue and a massive headache, trying to focus on his work when all he can think about are reasons things are constantly going downhill between them.
Cullen had tried to make sure things were kept at least civil, but more often than not any disagreement escalated into an argument. For a while they were even beginning to insinuate some sort of agreeable coexistence, a truce, and even attempted some friendliness; the moment he voice his opposition to Idrilla’s alliance with the Mages had made tensions boil over again, however, and since organizing the mage's move to Haven occupied most of their workday, they hadn't had a conversation that didn't end with one of them screaming at the other since her return.
Cullen had read the reports of Alexius's strange magic, and she had lived it, they both knew the Venatori had people hidden in Redcliffe. He couldn't understand why she would object to heavy Templar presence in such a delicate time - It wasn’t even like he wanted the Mages locked up again, because he didn’t. But it seemed that no matter how much they talked, they just couldn't understand each other. It was frustrating.
A sharp knock on his office’s door interrupts his train of thought.
“Commander, can I come in?” The Herald asks, opening the door just enough to stick her head into his office.
Think of demons and they’ll come to you, as one of the Mothers at the monastery would say. He knows that's unworthy of him.
“I don’t know, Herald. Can you?” He asks. It's childish and pedantic, but he’s still annoyed enough to not care. Thankfully she doesn’t seem to notice, and takes it as permission to slip into the room. She's carrying a messenger's bag and wearing the outfit of Leliana's people, which earns a raised eyebrow on his part.
“I told you to not call me that.” She says, closing the door behind her softly. “I don’t like it.”
“Right. So, Herald, is this about the argument we had earlier?” he asks, setting the report he had been trying to read on his table and leaning back on his chair. “Something you still wish to discuss?”
She stiffens, hands clutching the strap of the bag on her shoulder tightly, and color rises to her face, obvious even with the darkness of her skin and the low light where she stood.
“It’s not that. I...” she hesitates, licking her lips nervously. “I have Inquisition work to do and the De Launcets keep interrupting me with their nonsense. I’m running out of places to hide. I know things aren’t good between us right now and that I don't have the right to ask, but do you mind if I stay here for a while? They don't dare come close to your office.”
Cullen is caught off-guard by her request, and some part of him rooted deeper than his penchant for pettiness speaks up. “Of course I don't mind. We may have our differences, serah Lavellan, but I’m not about to throw you to the Orlesians.”
“Thank you.” she says, cracking a relieved smile. “You won’t even know I’m here, I promise.”
He really wouldn’t, if she were anyone else - she sits on the floor in a shadowy corner and reads her papers so quietly, he can't even hear the pages shifting - but Cullen’s attention keeps drifting to her; to the flick of light reflected by her eyes, to the weak glow of the dying embers in his fireplace caught on a patch of her rust-red hair; to the memory of their few pleasant interactions. Cullen wonders if their arguments wouldn’t be so taxing if the things that made their relationship so tense were not the exact qualities in her that he admired deeply – if, no matter how uncomfortable he was admitting it, she didn’t make his heart feel lighter on his chest every time she gave him attention, or on the rare occasions she approved one of his suggestions at the war table.
There was even one time he is mostly sure that she was probably flirting, and remembering it still leaves him dumb and stammering.
“You’re going to hurt your eyes if you keep reading in the dark like that” he says, before he realizes what he’s doing.
Idrilla takes a moment to process that someone was talking to her, and then turns to him, with a confused expression on her face. “What?”
“Y-Your eyes.” Cullen stutters, cursing himself mentally. “Reading in low light is bad for your eyes. You could sit here if you want, I’m sure there’s a chair somewhere.”
“Commander, elves can see in the dark.” she chuckles, tapping the corner of an eye. “They’re like a cat’s, you know.”
“Ah. Yes, of course. Forget I said anything.”
“But you were kind to offer.” She says, gently. “I'm going to accept it, if you let me use your inkwell. I forgot to bring mine.”
“Be my guest.”
It turns out there wasn’t a chair anywhere in his office, so she just settles herself on a pile of books lying on the ground at the other side of his desk and gets to work. It’s surprisingly comfortable, and Cullen wishes - not for the first time - that this was their normal, instead of the fighting.
“You know, Commander” She says a while later, when she reaches the end of the letter she was writing. “I did want to talk to you about this morning, yes.”
Cullen sighs, preparing himself for another round of bickering. “I thought the discussion was over. Cassandra and I are outvoted. You don’t need to convince me to do things your way.”
“I didn’t want to try and convince you.” She takes a deep breath. “I came here to apologize.”
“Oh.”
“I wasn’t really being fair to you.” she continues, scratching a scrap of paper with her quill. “I read the Tale of the Champion, you know.”
Cullen chuckles, his feelings making a confusing knot in his throat. “I advise you to be careful what you say near Varric. He’ll write it into one of his books and then you will never live it down.”
“Noted.” She says, smiling nervously, and licks her lips again. “I read about you and then I couldn't take what you said any way but the worst I could. I was told all my life that the only thing your kind wanted was to hurt me; I saw you trying to reach out to me and ignored it, but after you found my staff and said you wanted to help the refugee elves I thought that maybe you were different now. And then you talk about putting Templars to watch the mages at all times and I just assumed you still thought that they... that we aren’t people, that we are just monsters waiting to happen. I felt like a fool, Commander, and I don't like it.”
“That was not what I meant, Herald. If I insisted on increasing our Templar presence, it was only because -”
“Please, let me finish.” she says, holding up a hand, and Cullen goes quiet. “It might not have been what you meant, but it’s how I took it. I thought you hadn’t changed and I opposed everything you said without even listening, and that’s not right.”
“I made assumptions about you, too.”
“Well then you can apologize for that after I finish talking, can’t you?” she spits, then takes a sharp breath, covering her mouth in alarm. “Wait, I’m sorry, that came out really wrong. I'm not here to pick another fight.”
Cullen can’t help but chuckle at her alarm, even if he knows he should be offended. “You could have fooled me, but please go ahead.”
“Thank you.” she says, running her hands through her hair. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry that I have been such a huge ass to you. Varric and I talked for a bit earlier about what happened in Kirkwall this last few years and he made me see I was just being difficult. That’s not the kind of person I want to be, that I need to be, if I want to do anything good while I'm here. You do have a point: I know how hard it is to keep magic working as it should so close to the Breach, and I am putting people in danger if I ignore it.” She takes a deep breath, brushes a stray lock of hair away from her face. “Putting people in danger just because I don’t like what real life is showing me isn’t acceptable behavior for a Keeper, and probably isn’t for a Herald, either. You deserved better than dealing with my tantrums, and I'm sorry.” She concludes, cringing at the title.
Cullen considers her words for a second. “I accept your apology.” He says, and can’t help but smile a little, feel a little hopeful. “We have all gone through too many hardships lately. Sometimes that pushes people into acting ways unworthy of them.” He continues, “And now that it is my turn, I would like to apologize too, for assuming I knew more about magic than you, for falling back into beliefs I should have outgrown, and for dismissing you instead of trying to explain myself better.”
“It’s all good.” She shrugs. “You were raised like that, right? Can’t help it.”
“I think that applies to you, as well.”
“It does, doesn’t it? At least it’s all water under the bridge now.” she giggles. "I was thinking we could sit with Fiona tomorrow and try to work out security that’s good for everyone before the rest of the mages arrive.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Creators, I have no idea. I’ve only seen that many mages together on Arlathvhens and Keepers are really nothing like Circle people. I’ll just be there to pretend I’m doing something, try to keep the peace.”
Cullen hums, pensative. “Josephine arranged another meeting with dignitaries for you, didn’t she.”
Idrilla grimaces. “Saw right through me, didn’t you?”
“That last part gave you away. We might not be friends, but my understanding is that there are very few things you don’t have an opinion about.”
“That’s true.” she concedes, chewing the corner of her mouth. “But not all of them are useful or justified, and I need to learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes.”
“Was the apology sincere?” Cullen asks. “Or just a way to get out of the meeting?”
“It was sincere.” She says, shifting closer to him with a serious expression on her face. “I wanted to get things right with you. Getting out of the meeting would be just... an added benefit.”
“Then I will see you tomorrow, here in my office. I imagine the negotiations with Fiona will take most of the day; if that's the case, I'll ask Amélie to tell Josie to reschedule the meeting.”
“Do you think we could stretch it for a week? Josie said they would be leaving in four days.”
Cullen scoffs. “Now you're asking too much.”
“I know. I’m looking forward to it, anyway.” she says, winking, before turning back to her papers. Cullen can't help but blush, but just a little.