Legal Bits: I own nothing except my own ideas, which I'm sure some law somewhere will claim I don't own those either.

Warning: This is a companion piece to my other story, "And the Veil Divides." This means that this story is meant to be read with or after the primary story. Reading it as a stand-alone will probably not make much sense, or seem a bit… off. So please, go read the main story first!

More Warnings: More than the others in this set, this story has multiple instances of suggested abuse, suggested non-con, PTSD, anxiety, trauma related nightmares, and other related themes. If these are triggers for you, please do not read. They are such an integral part of the story that I cannot simply tell you where to skip.

Chapter 1: Find Me

(Partner to the chapter "Heroes Beyond Counting.")

He couldn't quite figure out when he'd stopped thinking of her as the "Herald of Andraste", and started thinking of her as simply Wren. Oh, he'd never actually use her nickname, not like Cassandra or even Josephine used it. He was the Commander of the Inquisition forces, and propriety demanded that he treat everyone equally and with respect, which meant official titles and full names. But that didn't stop him from calling her by her chosen name when he thought of her. And it was strangely pleasing how often that was rapidly becoming.

It had happened so subtly. The first time he'd met her, well, awake, had been in the middle of a battle, and there was no reason for her stand out to him then. They had jobs to do, and by the Maker he'd be damned if he didn't see his through. When she closed the Rift and stabilized the Breach, he was impressed. When she'd smiled at him for the first time, during her first meeting with the War Council, he'd been surprised. Cassandra sang her praise often enough, talking about how she'd leap into battle with the confidence of a warrior, or how she'd healed one of the scouts with deft hands and gentle words. Josephine praised her ability to use both soft words and an aura of intimidation to deftly deflect the other nobles that were starting to bother the Inquisition. Even Leliana had said a few pleasant things about the woman- her soft step meant she was capable of subtlety, her observations in the field meant that she gave wonderful accounts when they filed their reports.

Their comments on her made him curious, and on those rare times she was actually in Haven, he'd watch her. Her movements were precise, with a sense for the conservation of energy. She spoke with many small smiles and a pleasant sense of decorum. Once he'd seen her practicing battle forms with her staff, and he'd been impressed at her speed, as well as the power behind each strike. And despite everything that had happened to her, she shouldered every task they gave her, and accepted that somehow, against all odds, she was going to close the Breach.

Perhaps he should blame the other women! Maybe, if they'd said a few more negative things, he wouldn't be standing here in the middle of the night, starring at Wren while she fed a horse withered apples. Maybe, if those meddling women didn't talk about this mage like she was the Herald of Andraste, he wouldn't be nervous enough to lose the dinner he'd barely remembered to eat. Instead, he'd be sitting in his quiet office, preparing the letters that needed to be sent out on the morrow. He could be drinking ale in the Tavern with his men. Maybe he'd actually be asleep!

No. Here he was, about to make a fool of himself in front of a woman he couldn't help but admire.

She finally looked over her shoulder at him, and he couldn't stop himself from looking down at his feet and rubbing his neck anxiously. He could see her watching him, and it did not help his nervousness. Her eyes did not hold anger, or contempt, or even pity. They were simply calm. When she spoke, her voice was a soft acknowledgement of his presence- "Commander." Then she turned back to the plow horse, who nickered appreciatively.

He attempted to speak, but found his throat dry. Clearing it, he tried to walk casually to her right, coming to stand a few feet away from her side. His voice came to him, a little more strained than he'd intended, "Lady Trevelyan…" What had he come out here to say? He found himself at a loss for words now that he was actually here with her. It didn't help that he was rapidly realizing that this was the first time they'd been alone together, and it made him incredibly nervous to not have some distraction to concentrate on. Well, the horse was a distraction, sort of. No- enough of this! Taking a deep breath, turned his attention to her and said quietly, "I wanted to apologize." 'Maker's breath man! Was that so difficult?'

Wren seemed surprised by that- what had she expected? But he rushed through what he'd come to say, not giving her a chance to stop him, "I spoke without thought earlier, and that was unfair of me. You know some of these mages and I should trust your judgement in that matter, at least. It was rash of me to criticize a group of ma- people, I know little about." The horse started nosing at his cloak, and he reached out absent mindedly to rub its nose and try to keep it from slobbering his clothes. He felt the need to explain himself, no, not explain his away actions, but admit his shortcomings "I was a Templar for so long, that it is…difficult for me to overcome some of the prejudice instilled upon us." He looked over at her with a small smile, hoping to see one in return. "I must admit, I little expected to be working with not one, but two accomplished and interesting mages. Particularly one with such hidden fires." What? He hadn't meant to say that last part! But the Wren gave him one of her gentle smiles that always made his stomach flutter, and he relaxed.

Cassandra had briefly explained to them some of what she'd gleaned about Wren's experiences in the Circle, and on the road during the rebellion. It seemed she had more than fair reason to mistrust anyone who bore the Templar crest. Leliana added that there had been formal complaints made about some of the Templars in Ostwick, and that their Herald's name had been mentioned in one particularly brutal incident. The spymaster refused to go into details, saying only that is was no wonder the girl was reported to have such violent nightmares.

Cullen took a few steps closer to her, "I will not ask what happened to make you hate the Templars so. I only ask that you do not paint us all with the same brush. I shall happily endeavor to do the same." Closer now, he noticed the tear tracks on her face, and it twisted something in his chest to know that his earlier words had caused this. His fingers moved of their own accord, brushing one of the frosted crystals from her cheek. This was the closest he'd ever been to her, and he could make out details he hadn't noticed before- like how her tattoo was done Dalish style, a long, painful process. Or the scar on her cheek, recent by the look of it, that only served to make her cheekbones more defined. Or the little bit of green on the outside of her iris… 'Get yourself together!' he berated himself, before taking a few steps back to put proper distance between them again. "Please, Lady Trevelyan, do not linger out here long. My men can protect you from demons and bandits, but not from the cold." He needed to leave before any other ridiculous things came out of his mouth or his hands stopped listening to him again.

He managed to walk around her and get four steps away before her voice called to him "Comman-… Cullen?" he stopped, worried again that she would berate him- "I… I do not think you are like them." Oh.

His stomach swooped and he could feel his hands shaking. With a surprisingly steady voice, he replied, "Thank you, my Lady."

"Please, call me Wren?"

Maker. Did she know what that simple question did to him? How long had he wished that he could do just that? How long had he watched her companions with envy as they joked with her and sat beside her and made her laugh? He didn't deserve any of that. Not after what he'd said today. He would not call her anything less than her proper titles… but still… He turned back and walked slowly to just behind her, his feet moving without conscious though. Maybe just tonight, he could indulge. "Of course. Goodnight… Wren." Being close to her again, he could see her shivering- she probably didn't even realize it. Without thinking, he unclasped his cloak and swung it down, sliding it onto her shoulders. Before he could worry any more, he turned tail and fled with as much dignity as he could muster.

He didn't stop until the door to his room was closed behind him, at which point he cursed himself for both his cowardice, and his lack of foresight. Well, come morning everyone would suspect him of dallying with the Herald of Andreste. He prayed to the Maker that Wren was as sneaky as Leliana insisted she could be, and would return his cloak with no suspicion. If his actions marred her name…

Still, he couldn't stop the smile that came to his lips when he thought of her. Now he had something that the others had, and even if he could not flaunt it like they did, in his mind he would still call her Wren.

AN: Woot! First chapter from Cullen's POV is finished! Much like the Solas POV chapters, these will likely be brief little snippets, generally only involving direct interactions with Wren. Cullen doesn't get a lot of time with her before Skyhold, so I felt like it was silly to include all the pointless things before this scene. Besides, I really liked this scene, and his view on it makes me giggle. These chaps will come out slower than the main and probably slower than Solas POV to start with.

Anyways, hope you all enjoy!