"Commander?"
Cullen turned to the shy voice that stood by the gate. He offered her a weak smile and dropped his hands from the prayer position. "Herald. My apologies, is there a meeting-"
Her staff tapped on the frozen earth. "No. I called it off, actually." He stood from his kneeling position. "I… told Leliana and Josephine to tend to their work and… advised that the Templars care for their wounded and dead." Her eyes fell to the urns and coffins that surrounded him. "I can see they took my suggestions to heart."
Cullen felt a smile tug at the scarred side of his lip. So full of compassion and fire. "That's all right, Herald. Most of the men and women here had been corrupted by the red lyrium."
Her staff leaned against the small Chantry graveyard's fence. She moved closer to him. "What does that matter?"
Cullen lifted his gaze from her staff to her twitching ears. "Templars have been… trained to believe in purity, Herald. Most of them would not abide those that had been corrupted. Which is why, despite their low numbers and lack of Chantry support, the ones you rescued and brought here seek out the mages in our ranks."
His eyes fell to her bright green eyes as she moved up beside him. "Cassandra is none too pleased about that either." Her red lips lifted into a smirk. "I couldn't help but overhear that you deflected them onto her."
He felt a slight heat color his cheeks. "Yes, well… They sought my counsel, but as I am no longer a Templar, I merely directed them to the nearest and highest in command."
An easy chuckle filled the air between them. The Herald's faded out, leaving Cullen with a distant smile. Her eyes fell to the coffin he had knelt beside. Her right hand moved to brush a bit of snow off the top.
"It's wrong." There was a darkness, a tremble to her voice he hadn't heard before.
He tilted his head. "What is, Herald?"
Her head shook. "They were devoted before. They were changed, some against their volition. It's wrong not to honor them. They gave their lives."
Cullen smiled sadly. He lifted a hand toward her shoulder furthest from him to hold her. His hand closed with the quietest creak of leather and fell back to his side. "The ones that had families are being compensated. And the ones that did not have been recorded. They will not receive high honors, but they have been listed under Killed In Action."
The Herald's ears sagged. "Rather underwhelming way to be remembered."
Cullen's brow furrowed. "Herald?"
Her head shook. "They… I don't know much about shemlens or Templars, but Killed In Action could mean anything."
Cullen shifted his weight. Shemlen. She had used that word less and less of late. The hate and vitriol that accompanied it when it fell from her lips had faded completely if she ever used it now. "The Inquisition holds their names in our records at current. Each K.I.A. has a subsequent qualifier. For those that fell to the red lyrium poisoning, it will read as such."
The Herald lifted her eyes to his, her brow knit. "'Poisoning'?" He confirmed. "Sounds better than corruption. What of those that died-"
Cullen chuckled absently. "For those killed by the Red Templars, they have been listed as Defending the Templar Order."
The Herald's ears perked slightly. "That they were, Commander." Her hands moved to the opposing elbows. "And what of Ser Barris?"
His eyes fell to the coffin. "He has been given full honors, per his rank and house. He will be remembered as a hero." The Herald nodded beside him. He heard a sniff. "Herald?"
Another sniff and her head shook. "Blasted cold mountain air giving me the sniffles."
Cullen heard the tremor in her voice. His hand found the opposite shoulder despite himself. "Herald, you don't-"
Her body quivered, though Cullen couldn't tell if it were from the cold or her tears. Her head dropped, her ears sagged. She turned against his arm into his chest. Her hands pressed into his chestplate, her forehead between them. Rarely had Cullen been the one that a woman cried on, let alone one as stoic and resolute as the Herald of Andraste.
Several moments before Cullen's wits returned to him. He shifted his hands to her shoulders to provide some semblance of comfort. "Herald…"
"I'm sorry, Commander." Her voice rang against the metal of his chestplate, her body shook with sobs.
His brow furrowed. "For what, Herald?"
"I couldn't save them. I couldn't save more of them." Her head rolled against his chestplate as she shook her head. "So many Templars, nobles, innocents died. So many, Commander."
Cullen's eyes fell to the graveyard. The fence had been removed to allow space for more. He had allocated a whole field just outside of Haven's grounds to allow for burial as well. Just as he had when Kirkwall fell. Though the coffins and urns had been of all different shapes and sizes. Entirely too many of them had been small.
"You saved what you could, Herald." The light had faded from his voice. "That is comfort enough."
Her shoulders trembled. "But I could've done more. I could've-"
He rubbed his gloved hands up and down her upper arm. "Herald, take their lives and honor them. Some died to protect you. Do not let their deaths be in vain."
"Commander…" Her voice barely drifted to his ears.
He felt her trembling calm under his hands. He rested his hands on her elbows. "Do not dwell on the lives you could've saved. Do not let yourself drown in the sorrow of the lives you couldn't save." She lifted herself off of his chest. Her eyes remained downcast. "You did more than the rest of the world did." Her red and puffy eyes lifted to his, a soft green glow inside them. "Without you, without the Inquisition, it's possible all of the Templars would be tainted. You saved them, Herald. And you left them their autonomy. That is more than the Chantry has ever done."
Her brow knit again. "You're not angry with my decision?"
He smiled softly. "Of course not."
Her eyes fell to Barris's coffin. "I only did what I thought was right…"
Meredith's bark of orders, the Rite of Annulment, fell to Cullen's ears. His brothers and sisters took up arms against every mage in the Gallows. He had to watch as men and women were torn apart with blades, as mages allowed themselves to become abominations to save themselves from the sword. Terror-filled eyes glass with tears caught his from under a table. A child. A young mage that had never been given the chance to learn. His eyes went black. Fear had given way to a demon.
He had to cut the child down. He had to. But he could save the others. Save the ones that had been left in the cells downstairs. The ones that were still pure, still teachable. They had done nothing wrong. They had been just like his sister had been. They were young and afraid and just wanted to be normal. Normal like their parents, or their brothers and sisters, their cousins. They didn't want the Maker's wrath. They didn't deserve it.
Cullen forced a smile. "Though the others do not agree, Herald, I believe what you did was for the best. What the Templars need now is for someone to have faith in them. With a firm hand, a bit of guidance, they can be restored to the proper path."
The Herald nodded slightly. They both stared at Barris's coffin. Barris had been one of the Templars in Kirkwall shortly before the Chantry explosion. He had been transferred out shortly after on his family's orders. And pockets. Barris had been one of the first to aid Cullen in defending the children. He had tried to talk some sense into the Templars that came for the children. He had been the one Cullen entrusted to their defense when he confronted Meredith.
The Herald hiccupped. "I should've left more in the Great Hall. I should've gone to check more often. I should've-"
Cullen set his jaw. "Herald." Her lips snapped shut. Her body continued to shake with the aftermath of her sobs, the sharp inhalations of breath, the sniffles.
He had gotten lost in that line of thinking after Kirkwall's rebellion, after Kinloch, even now. If only I had done more. If only I had been stronger, better, faster. If only.
Cullen placed a hand on the top of her head. Her ears relaxed. He had no words to help her now. He still hadn't learned how to cope in the aftermath of such a tragedy. She had seen so many in such a short time. "I am here for you, Herald, should you have need of me."
Her head turned, his hand moved with it. Her large green eyes scanned his face. Her eyes fell to Delrin's coffin. "I'm… sorry, I should go."
"No." Cullen's voice rumbled through him. He hadn't meant to speak. He smiled down to her. "Mourning is easier to do with company."
The Herald nodded slightly. Cullen allowed his hand to fall to the middle of her shoulderblades. She did not shy away from his touch. He felt the soothing calm that came from her presence drift up his arm. It had started the day she landed on the back of his horse and clung to his waist. He had thought it strange then. It had only gotten stronger afterwards, after they spent time together, sitting on the docks, sharing their stories.
"I do wonder, though, Herald." She sniffled, and hummed. "I find it curious you would mourn for… shemlen Templars." He struggled to keep his tone amiable, genuinely curious.
Her head shook. "What they chose to do in life, they are all just corpses now. And they met their end in a much crueler way than anyone else."
His brow furrowed. "But you…" How did he phrase it. "You are a mage. A Dalish mage."
She nodded. "And these men and women hunted my kind, hunted mages. But they are all equal in death." She sniffed. "They all lost their futures, lost their potential families. They were a life, were an impact, positive or negative on someone. And now… All that they were is held as ashes in an urn or a skeleton in a coffin. Nothing to mark their time except a tombstone."
Cullen shifted his weight beside her. "There were some that did not receive even that."
She sighed, her breath still erratic from the tears. "Everyone deserves something, Commander. Everyone starts out pure and innocent. It is the world that corrupts them."
Tear and terror-filled eyes flashed before him. Black eyes returned to blue, knit in confusion. The boy had died. The demon did not require him any longer. Cullen held the child, long blond hair covered half of the boy's face. Why does it hurt? I can't breathe. Ser Cullen? I can't see. It's so dark.
"Commander?"
He jolted from the memory. "Apologies. Just… Times like these, all kinds of memories come flooding back."
She turned and pawed at his arm. He removed it, but she grabbed at his gloved hand, threaded her fingers with his. He glanced between her face and his hand. "Herald?"
She shook her head. "You don't have to tell me, Commander. But I'm here for you, should you have need of me."
When was the last time someone held him? The Warden had tried after Kinloch. Hawke had offered a shoulder. But he was a Templar, a soldier. He was strong. He had been through so much. Maker, the things he had seen, the things he had done. The people he had killed and lost.
The coffins, the urns became blurry. He blinked, hoping to clear things up, and felt the chill on his face. Tears. He laughed once, sniffled. She looked back to him. "I suppose the mountain air is a bit chilly for me, as well."
Her brow knit with worry. He shook his head, willing the tears into his throat. Delrin had found him, the boy, after Kirkwall had been stabilized. He had brought him to the makeshift morgue. Cullen hadn't cried then. Hadn't let himself feel. He had turned away, continued counting the dead, the wounded, making arrangements for the rest.
Ser Delrin Barris took the boy's name. Sent condolences to the family. Ser Delrin Barris had remained in touch even after Cullen had left the Templars. Ser Delrin Barris had returned from Therinfal Redoubt in a coffin.
The tears chilled his face. He fought against them. He raised his left hand, the one she had not taken, and attempted to wipe them off his face. I am a man. I am a soldier. I am a lion.
"Commander?"
Her worry broke him. He took a knee, muttered apologies. She moved with him. Her arms moved around his fur, pulled his head to her chest. And he allowed himself the tears.