Cullen couldn't help but be dismayed as Regan Trevelyan walked into the war room at Haven. He wasn't sure what he was hoping for, but he knew she wasn't it. He tried his best not to sigh as he looked over her dragon armour and ornate matching daggers. They shone in an iridescent green-gold that matched the scale like metal work on her long dragon leather coat. The craftsmanship was exquisite. Finer than anything he had ever seen so close. The green citrine eyes of her dragon headed daggers seemed to follow him menacingly as he surveyed her. Normally he would have been impressed, appreciating the skill armour of this calibre would signify, but there was something he didn't like about it. something that didn't sit well.
New. That's what it was. Everything about her looked new, unblemished and unready, ceremonial more than useful. Just like most nobles he'd seen. It was only when he looked up at her face that he realised he had been staring too long… awkwardly long. Trevelyan shook her head, with a hint of defiance, and stood up a little straighter. A flicker he could not place glinted in her eyes.
"May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces." Cassandra's voice cut through the silence.
"Such as they are. We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through."
He was trying to shock her, remind her, this was a real war. Real lives are at stake. It is not a game you can play at from a distance.
Regan knew the dance well, with introductions made to her, her response would be crucial. It had to be perfect. She had needed to prove herself. First impressions were critical.
"That's an impressive bunch of titles."
Her voice sounded clear and almost sunny but she grimaced slightly at the ineptitude of her reply. She had lost them, and she knew it. She had been stunned to be included in the discussions at all. It was not long ago that she was shackled in the dungeons, her life on the line waiting on an explanation she could not give. That's why she had dressed in her best armour, even though she didn't feel like herself in it.
The leather was still stiff from lack of use. Her matching daggers sat high upon her shoulders, higher than normal, drawing her shoulders back, forcing her stand to her full height. Regan wasn't tall, but she knew an impression of height would give her a stronger projection of power. Little changes can reshape the world.
She had lost the Commander before she had even opened her mouth. She wasn't sure when exactly, but she had seen him looking her over with distaste, making her bubble slightly with anger. Caught up in scolding herself she missed the conversation shift to whose help they should seek to close the breach. The tension rising so sharply she could feel it. As she was desperately thinking of something to say, anything that would calm the fire in the room, Josephine's voice cut through with the cold calmness of reality. Arguing over whether to approach the mages or Templars was redundant if they weren't powerful enough to be worth helping anyway.
More would have to be done to win over either side. Something Regan finally agreed with. Neither the mages or Templars would take on such a great risk for an upstart group with no political sway. There's no point placing your bets before you have at least picked up your cards.
It was the Chantry denouncement that hurt her the most. Her family had always been proud loyal members, never shirking their duty.
"Just how am I the Herald of Andraste?" Regan couldn't keep the sting from her voice. Cullen looked up, for the first time since entering the room she looked as uncomfortable as she felt. He had known Trevelyans from his time as a Templar. They were a pious family, perhaps more than most. Firm in both their convictions and their beliefs.
"An impressive title isn't it? How do you feel about that?" He asked, hiding the slight caution in his voice.
"It's… a little unsettling" Honesty, he hadn't expected that.
"I'm sure the Chantry would agree." He said jokingly. He had been trying to lift her mood, to lift her eyes back from the table, but her face fell slightly further.
With the meeting over he watched as she quickly left the room, her unblemished hand immediately coming up to loosen the buckles at her collar as soon as she thought she was out of sight. The gleam of her daggers caught his eyes again. As perfect as they had seemed at first he now saw they were marred with small notches and signs of use.
Regan stalked determinedly back to her cabin, not once looking at the crowd still gathered. 'The Herald of Andraste,' how ridiculous. What would her family think? Her older brother had often joked about her trying to usurp his position. Something they both knew she would never actually dream of doing, but she had ambitions of her own and they knew it.
A simple, but expertly crafted, scout cloak was laid out on her bed. She smiled to herself, making a mental note to thank whoever had made it, changing into it immediately. Suddenly feeling more herself than she had since she'd been sent to the conclave all those days ago.
Thinking about her family hurt more than she had expected. She missed them. By now they would have heard of the explosion at the chantry and considering this Herald nonsense they had most likely heard many tales of her survival, but she had to be sure. She sat down to write them a long letter, but didn't know where to start. They would be beside themselves with worry. Her mother, concerned for her future, had been trying to convince her of marriages or chantry life since she turned sixteen, desperately wanting to protect her little girl from the crushing harshness of the real world. As a second child, with no inheritable title of her own, she knew it was the most logical move. But it wasn't the future she wanted for herself. She was grateful, she knew they would never force her and she was ready. But here she was, in a situation she hadn't chosen for herself and never would have. She loathed having choice taken away from her.
Her father had always doted on her in ways most wouldn't, teaching her to use daggers in secret. The day she bested him in training and she saw such pride in his eyes was one of her favourite memories. Now she worried about the fear she knew would have taken hold. She missed them desperately, knowing that no matter how she tried to present her current situation they would see the danger waiting for her. Her biggest fear, the one she barely wanted to admit to herself, was her that they would believe she had invited this upon herself. Setting herself up to be worshiped, ruling an amalgamated kingdom she had no right to. Surely they wouldn't think that of her, but others would, no matter what she did. She pushed the thought away, leaving the thread of worry to be pulled another day.
With no words coming she decided to go talk to her companions. She would be spending a great deal of time with them and being on friendly terms would surely help their cause. Besides friends were something she needed now more than ever. Her letter could wait.
She wandered back to the Chantry. She'd start with Josephine. Her family had a good relationship with the Montilyet's and she had some items she had collected at the Conclave she had been asked to turn in to the researcher. Two birds with one stone. She could then work her way down the camp. Perhaps by then it would be too late to talk to Cassandra or Cullen. Neither seemed to like her much and she was unsure of how to approach them.
Cullen was walking back from the war room when he overheard voices in Josephine's office. The Herald and Josephine chatting away about balls and parties. Damnit. Why was he suddenly calling her that?
Stopping, he leaned slightly into the door. He found himself reddening slightly, running his hands through his hair, when he realised he could offer no excuse if he were caught eavesdropping.
"I don't recall seeing you at any of them," Josephine said, a slight question in her tone.
"Attend one ball, and you'll fend off invites for a dozen more," replied Regan simply.
It stunned him. He assumed she would love attending balls. Surely any young noble maiden would relish in the excitement attention showered upon her during a party, particularly one with the social standing and graceful beauty of Regan. his blush deepened at the thought.
Wait footsteps… coming towards him. He turned and quickly headed down into the dungeon, hoping desperately he hadn't been caught.
Josephine surprised her, talking for far longer and with more genuine warmth than she had expected. No wonder Great Aunt Lucille invited her to all her parties. It almost made Regan wish she had attended more. Almost.
Her talk with Leliana was also unexpected, but not in a good way. she seemed to be having some sort of minor meltdown. It wasn't surprising really that the Left Hand of the Divine would be devastated by her sudden gruesome death. But Regan hadn't expected her to reveal her turmoil. She did her best to be of comfort, but she knew it was of little solace to Leliana. They barely knew each other and there was not trust between them.
Solas was more standoffish than she had expected, he was clearly suspicious of her approach, but when she hit on the topic of the Fade he talked with such an unbridled passion that she marvelled in his knowledge. It interested Regan, but she didn't want to talk into the twilight hours about the Fade. It was a start for them both and she hoped it would continue, just not tonight.
Varric… well he was just what she needed. She could talk with him for hours, forgetting the reality of their situation as they told jokes and stories by his fire ankle deep in snow.
Threnn had called Cullen to her requisition table to tell him that Regan, without even leaving Haven, had managed to fulfil the weapons requisition for the troops. He had to admit that he was impressed. Not just at her ability to fulfil the order, but her perceptiveness and initiative in not just noticing it needed to be done but actually following through and doing it herself.
Walking back to the training grounds he saw her sitting with Varric. She looked almost like a completely different person to the one he met at the war table. She was dressed far more simply now and she looked far less stiff than she had before. They were both laughing. He assumed Varric was telling one of his stories. But as he walked closer he noticed she was doing all the talking, and Varric looked less like he was putting on a performance and more himself than Cullen had ever seen.
Cullen finally truly looked at her, instead of assessing her looking for fault. Regan looked like a Chantry painting, her large grey green eyes shining in the fire light, her delicate face and strong blond hair marvellous in the warm glow. She was more average in height than he remembered. He wasn't quite sure why he had originally thought she was tall.
That's when he noticed… Varric was watching him. His face was still trained on Regan's but his eyes were looking straight at him and he was… smiling. Cullen didn't know what that smile was, but he didn't like it. It took a moment but eventually he convinced his legs to move, hurrying back to the safety of his troops.
Regan's talk with Cassandra had gone well. It was more relaxed and personal than she had anticipated. Not friendly, but definitely less antagonistic. She had to be careful, Cassandra's walls came up like a fortress when Regan pressed to hard for details of her life in Nevarra. There was something there, something sensitive. This wasn't the time to work at it, no matter how much it itched at Regan's curiosity.
Just one to go.
She looked up at the sky, no hint of dark yet and only her unwritten letter to return to. Cullen was the lesser of two evils. They would have to talk sooner or later anyway.
His troops were sparring just outside the gates of Haven, you could hear the clash of swords from all over the camp. Surely she would find him there, watching and surveying. She bristled slightly thinking about how he scrutinised her in the war room. She had always hated every aspect of her being cause for criticism, growing up in nobility it was impossible to avoid. She bucked away from it as much as possible. She would have to get used to it, she guessed, unless she could convince people to stop treating her like some second coming of Andraste.
Walking beside him she was surprised when he spoke first. He sounded completely different, almost shy. No hint of the man who had seemed so cold not so long ago.
"We've received a number of new recruits – locals from Haven and some pilgrims. None made quite the entrance you did."
A joke? Was that a joke?
"At least I got everyone's attention." Regan smiled as she said it, slightly teasinsgly, curious to see what his reaction should be.
"That you did," he laughed back.
It was unexpected. Cullen seemed different now. Outside with his troops he looked comfortably in control. He pushed the conversation forward like he wanted it to keep going, taking the initiative and talking about his past. Regan was shocked. She found she liked this Cullen. He didn't look disappointed in her anymore and she felt less on edge around him. She enjoyed listening to him talk. He had such passion about their cause, something she still knew far too little about. She was just relaxing into the conversation when all of a sudden he stopped his candour short.
"… Forgive me. I doubt you came here for a lecture."
"No, but if you have one prepared I'd love to hear it." Regan smiled as she replied, only half joking, urging him to just keep talking. He was telling her all things she would need to know. She had always loved learning. Besides passion had always been something that appealed to her. And there was something about his voice…
"Another time perhaps." He smiled a lopsided apologetic smile at her and then…
That was a laugh. A definite laugh. A genuine laugh. Regan couldn't help but grin back. Her opinion of him earlier seemed silly now. She hadn't taken the time to get to know him before deciding she knew enough. It was something she always hated when done to her and she didn't like the thought that she had been doing it to others. Now, here he was talking to her like a normal person. No harshness in his gaze at all. no bite in his words. She was almost beginning to wonder if she had imagined it.
He smiled back at her, his words fading away. She found herself watching the scar o his top lip, wondering what had caused it. Then all of a sudden it was over. One scout with one report and he retreated back into his work, his world. Lost again.s
Regan didn't want it to end. She had nowhere to go except back to her cabin and the letter she had been trying to pretend she didn't need to write.
She would wait, biding her time by chatting with Harritt and pre-planning something less stupid to say. She wanted to know more about him as a person, but that could be put on hold for later, first she needed to learn more about the situation they were in and where it was likely to lead them.
Seizing her moment she settled two topics in her mind as she walked back to Cullen; their companions and the Templar Order.
Cullen saw Regan heading back in his direction. It surprised him to see her returning so soon. He had been a little sad when their earlier conversation had been interrupted, but assumed she had gone back to her own duties. He had not anticipated her coming to talk to him again. Not today.
He felt a little off guard. Perhaps that's why he shared more about his time in Fereldan's Circle and Kirkwall than he normally would have, but he stopped himself short of divulging too much. There were many things he didn't want to admit to himself, let alone people he had just met. He simply wasn't proud of some parts of his life and he'd rather she never found out. No, he would share them if he had to, but no earlier.
Her eyes twinkled when he mentioned Varric's comments about his serious expression. She certainly didn't seem surprised. He would have to be careful of that he realised, he didn't want to appear standoffish and uncaring to his troops. If he did they would be unwilling to approach him when they needed to and that could put people in jeopardy. He had seen firsthand how an unlistening and unmoving leader could destroy far more than simply themselves.
He wasn't sure how or when the topic veered to him personally, the questions were still ostensibly about his Templar background, but he found himself talking freely. Regan was good, far better at getting information out of him than he had expected he realised. A useful talent. She was disarming and he found it easy to trust her, something which didn't come naturally to him.
Her genuine concern when she found he had left to join the Templars at thirteen both touched and frustrated him. He was young but at the time he felt ready. Now he was not so sure, he hadn't been for some time. The thing he missed most deeply from his old life was the certainty he once felt. Now his decisions felt more his own, but they were far harder than before.
The discussion of vows took him completely by surprise. He tried to answer as best he could, but suddenly he found he didn't know what to do with his hands and his words faltered before he had begun them. He settled for crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He didn't want to seem fidgety. When she asked about him specifically he desperately wanted to ask her why she wanted to know, he even got some of the question out before stopping himself, answering her as quickly as he could and desperately to change the topic in the same breath.
He didn't know what happened but something had shifted again. She looked less like the Regan he saw talking easily with people and more like the Regan he had seen in the war room. Squaring her shoulders slightly and lifting her chin just like she had when she noticed him assessing her armour earlier. She muttered her goodbyes and turned, walking sharply back up the large stone steps. He wanted to stop her. He wanted their easy conversation back, but he could think of nothing to say.
He watched her go, a sense of sadness flaring and ebbing slightly within him. At the top of the steps he saw him. Varric watching with that smile. Surely he couldn't have heard? Cullen thought to himself as he turned his attention back to his work.
It was a joke. She had meant it as a joke, although she had wanted to know the answer. Damn her stupid curiosity. He didn't laugh. He just seemed flustered.
Why did I ask that? She thought to herself as she hurried back to her cabin. Barely noticing, but managing a short hello to, Varric as she passed him on the steps.
There was nothing she could do now except finish the task she had been avoiding all day. With a sigh Regan sat at her desk and once again began to write her letter. She wanted to ask for help. To ask for her parents to just come get her and take her home, but she knew she couldn't and she wouldn't do that to them.
She had to find a way to reassure them, even if she couldn't find a way to reassure herself.
It was dark. Almost pitch black, when Cullen finished the last of his duties at the training grounds. It seemed to get dark quickly in Haven, but he knew it was late. He had sent the troops to their quarter's hours ago. He knew the inquisition needed him at his best, but he found sleep no longer came easily to him like it had before the incident at the Circle. Yet, even that seemed minor to trying to sleep after Kirkwall. Now with the Conclave and his headaches growing steadily worse it felt like sleep was constantly around a corner, within reach but just out of grasp. Tantalisingly cruel. He had been finding the nights at Haven peaceful… well more peaceful. It was more calm here. Quieter. More like home. He was surprisingly comforted to be back in Fereldan. That made things easier. He had never realised how much he had missed Fereldan until he returned.
The breach in the sky was incredibly unsettling though, but he supposed that would be the case no matter where they were based. There was no escaping it. It was large enough to see from anywhere he could imagine. At least Haven was still. He was starting to feel safe, well not safe… but safer.
As he walked up the stone steps towards the cabins he noticed a light over in the small section where Regan's quarters had been set. He found himself walking in that direction. He could see her in her window, sitting at her desk writing.
Was she… it looked like she was crying. He was too far away to really tell he told himself. He walked around the corner to her door, the desire to make sure she was ok pulling him in. drawing him closer. With his hand raised to knock he managed to stop himself.
He wasn't sure where they stood. He didn't think they were friends yet. Perhaps she wasn't crying at all and he would be intruding where he wasn't wanted. He didn't know enough about her to guess who she could be writing to. He knew nothing of her family. Perhaps she even had a betrothed she was pouring her heart out to. Crying as she wished for him.
No, it was better to leave her. Walking away he realised after their long conversations today he still really knew nothing about her.
Wiping her eyes Regan lifted her head. She was sure she had heard something in the snow outside her cabin. It was too late for anyone to be calling on her. it must be just an animal wandering outside in the cold. One more thing about her new life she would have to get used to.