Dreaming
"There appears to be something about your mind, Templar."
It isn't a question but Cullen knows he's being prompted to speak. His title is at her lips again, Templar. They all call him this but each speaker warps the word into something else entirely. Tethras speaks with sardonic sort of revere. Pentaghast addresses him formally as she does their army. Vivienne on the other hand, has a wary sort of distain about her that's hidden like poison in tea. Inquisitor Haalima is different. He just doesn't know why.
"Curious," he replies, watching the qunari as she scowls at their battle plans. The war isn't going well. Cullen's surprised by their small reprieve, hidden under a thick canopy in an Orlesian forest as they wait out a storm. Tadpole sized raindrops land on them from the tree branches, sticky from sap. Haalima is drenched. Her course mane of hair snakes across her face and shoulders. Cullen's own hair is plastered to his forehead. Nearby, Warden Blackwall and Tethras shake off the worst of the rain. Tethras is laughing, Blackwall suggesting something as he shakes off his gauntlets. When Cullen returns to watch Haalima she's staring at him.
The Qunari had chosen the wrong individual to be their Arashock. Though, given the strict rules of the Qun, Haalima wouldn't have been chosen regardless.
"What about?"
Cullen has a weakness for women who pry for information. It isn't something he enjoys. If he were to write a list of attractive traits, 'pushy women who demanded to know what he thought' would not be on it. But that never stopped him from going weak-kneed at Amell's questions. It didn't help him now, being stared at by a woman who has more presence than Meredith ever did.
Maker preserve him.
"You weren't born Tal Vashoth, were you."
He prays he hasn't hit another wall with her. Haalima doesn't give information of herself often and it is common for the qunari to stop conversation all together if asked something she'd rather not reply to. He's rewarded when Haalima nods and gestures for Cullen to sit with her on the roots she's perched on.
Cullen hastens to sit. Though cumbersome due to his armor, he's relieved for a chance to rest after their march. Haalima dries the map as best she can before folding and tucking it away.
"It is obvious?"
"Only because of your speech pattern. You speak in clipped phrases and it's obvious that the Common tongue of Thedas is not your native one."
At that she laughs and he's startled by the sound, like seeing a rare bird flushed into the air and out of sight. He's glad he didn't tell her it's because he's killed enough qunari to know the differences in the way a Par Vollen born holds themselves compared to Tal Vashoth. He hates to say Tal Vashoth have more personality but. . .qunari are a bit like arguing with a jagged rock.
"You are correct. I was born Qunari. Stifling." She shook out her shoulders and Cullen felt the weight of her words as easily as he could see the scars on her lips. They'd been sewn together during her years as a saarebas. Cullen had seen the way Qunari mages were treated by their kin. It was a remarkable thing that Merideth hadn't resorted to such measures during the end of her reign.
"It was in your Kirkwall that I became Tal Veshoth."
"Oh?" Cullen hadn't heard that before. Little was known about the Inquisitor before she returned from the Rift in the Vale. He's surprised to hear of Kirkwall from her, to have another transplant from that dour place. Haalim nods again and gestures to Tethras.
"We fought. His Champion killed my Arvaarad. Cleaved into his neck with an ax. I've asked the dwarf but he cannot remember it. Apparently they killed qunari regularly while searching the Wounded Coast for herbs."
Cullen winces at that. To his understanding, saarebas devote their lives to their arvaarad. He himself killed an arvaarad to have the saarebas commit suicide by flame. It was demanded by the Qun, they declared, skin boiling and bursting like abominations from his nightmares. By the sound of it, Haalima's arvaarad had been killed simply because he was in Hawke's way. He thinks of what might have happened if Haalima acted as she'd been instructed. He wonders what the Inqusition would be like without her – if there would even be such a thing. He thinks of the lives they'd saved, of himself, angry and lost after the fall of Kirkwall.
Cullen he might be dead now if not for Haalima.
He doesn't know if he likes the answer in either way it falls. Life is so different now. His purpose has changed.
"Anger consumed me, at first. Rage like a kind I'd never known." It's more words than she commonly uses and he waits patiently as he collects herself again. Blackwall is shaking his head at Tehtras as the dwarf tries to convince him to sit. It's still raining but the mood is lighter where they are. Maybe it's just that the clouds have shifted. Tethras smiles and Cullen wishes it was so easy for him. Haalima is still watching him.
"Champion Hawke used a spell against me; Silence."
"A templar skill," Cullen says. Although never formally trained, Hawke knew templar skills and technique. Varric lead him to believe she'd been taught by her father in an effort to protect the family, to act as a templar would need to. It was an enormous burden to load upon a child. He'd say it made sense with how diplomatically she handled the politics of Krikwall but any effort she made was tarnished by her apostate lover, the Anders who'd blown up the Chantry.
"Yes. An effective one. So strong I hit my chin on the ground. Couldn't move my hands to brace the fall." She offers a parody of a smile. "She said: 'Your Arvaarad is dead. You can yield or you can die but the choice is yours now." He gaze sweeps from him for the first time in their conversation and it was like something physical had moved from him. She stares at the sky now, peaceful in a way she isn't even in sleep.
"It was the first choice I've made. Mine."
He can see her now, stumbling back from Hawke, skin shuddering from her confusion. And then she left. Turned around and ran. Lioness pride coasts Haalima's words like she wears it as a cloak. She'd chosen to live and her life is her own.
Cullen finds himself smiling. It's a shock. He never smiles, not anymore. Not since Kinlock Hold. He hasn't even felt happy since Meradith but here he is, warm like ale is in his veins instead of blood.
Haalima comes down from the sky and meets Cullen's eyes again. It's hard to gauge because it's been so long, but he's sure her smile is the same as his.
"Who gave you your name?"
He suspects the answer so it comes as no surprise when she says, "I did," like a new recruit, eager to show off. What's next surprises him.
"It means Dreaming, which I will do as long as I have breath."
Without another word, Haalima goes to her feet and orders the other two to her side. Tethras is still laughing as Blackwall looks embarrassed but happy. This is what they needed, this quiet moment in the face of war. Cullen follows and Haalima smiles, more subdued than before but now that he knows what the full effect looks like he can easily spot it.
Haalima has dreamed of an end to this war. Cullen intends to help her achieve it, not out of duty but by his own choice.