It must be difficult, the Inquisitor thought, remembering that a person lived behind her title.
She was no stranger to titles. It seemed to Jillian that there once was a time when every single person in her life had one. Lord, Lady, Ser, Apprentice, Senior Enchanter, First Enchanter, Knight-Captain. Templar. Mage. Everybody slotted into neat categories, and it made things simple, she knew, but it also made it next to impossible to get to know anyone.
She remembered the first time she realized that Templars were real people. She didn't know what she believed them to be before this revelation, but it was just that Templars were Templars, teachers were teachers, and, in her mind, they could not exist outside of their roles.
Only, once, when she was young and new to the Circle and so, so scared, a young Templar had been charged with fraternization. The Templar had stood there, face as white and glistening bright as the armor she wore, as she pled her case. She was in love, she claimed, but she also was a Templar, and she was capable of separating one from the other.
At the time, Jillian had not understood how a person could be two separate but equal things.
She understood now.
The ramparts were beautiful this time of day, Skyhold's dusty stone walls dyed pink and gold by the light. She leaned against the battlements, smiling at her companion.
"What about you," Cullen asked, and though he was half laughing, Jillian knew he was serious. "You have troubles of your own."
He was referring to her role as Inquisitor, and she did not resent him for it. With the end of the world weighing down on the Inquisitor's shoulders, what difficulties could Jillian Trevelyan possibly have to compare?
Except, Cullen had a title too, and he took it very seriously. He was the Commander in almost all that he did, and she had seen first hand just how difficult he found it to lay the honorific aside.
And yet, he had. Yes, his time in Kirkwall and in Fereldan's Circle defined how the Commander led his troops, but, here up on the battlements, Cullen had shared how they had shaped him as a man.
Jillian chewed at her lip, considering. If this – all of this – was going to work, she had to at least try to meet him halfway. This seemed like a good enough place to start.
"I do," she said in agreement. "You know, I sometimes wonder what you, Josephine and Leliana get up to while I'm away. Do you three ever gossip about me?"
"Well, I won't claim that the topic never comes up."
"What do you say, I wonder?"
A blush rose on Cullen's cheeks, and she almost expected him to start stumbling his way through flattery. Instead, he seemed to consider for a moment, and the warm calm that he wore in the War Room settled around him.
"You know that it is almost all good things," he said, a half smile comfortable on his face. "But I don't suppose that's quite what you're asking, is it?"
"Not quite, though it is good to hear."
He laughed, running a hand through his curls and down his neck. He settled against the wall, giving Jillian the full weight of his focus. "When you first joined us, Leliana obviously did quite a bit of digging on you. Part of me regrets that now, but, well, you'd stumbled right out of the Fade. We couldn't help be cautious."
"And yet, you made me Herald. And then Inquisitor."
"Well, not me alone, but I suppose the point still stands. But that – that was later. We'd gotten to know you, trust you, and – Maker's Breath – I can't even claim it took me that long. You know I…I was taken with you. From the moment I –"
Jillian reached out, grabbing Cullen's armored wrist and smiling. "Cullen, I know. You've told me this part."
"I – yes. Well. Point is, Leliana shared with me enough of your background to trust you with a staff at my back, but I haven't heard much since then."
"I'm sure she still keeps tabs on me," Jillian said, "but that is her job."
"Has something happened?" Cullen asked, stepping forward.
Jillian took in a deep breath and let it out again, slowly. "No. And yes. We've never discussed Haven, have we?"
Sadness and regret washed over Cullen's face. Maker, Jillian already regretted this.
"We haven't," he agreed. "I wasn't sure there was much left to be discussed."
"I don't know," Jillian said, feigning disinterest as her heart hammered. "Had things been a bit different, it probably would have been me the Inquisition forces were striking down."
"I don't understand."
"The people that attacked us…many of them used to be free mages. I knew some of them."
"You recognized them during the attack?"
Jillian hummed her acknowledgement. "I didn't realize it at first. When Dorian appeared at the gates, he called them Venatori, and they were, I guess, but they weren't originally. Did you," she said, haltingly, "Did you see anyone you recognized?"
Cullen turned away from her, looking out over the mountains. His face was set in old, angry lines. "Doubtless, there were mages from Kirkwall among their ranks, though few survived past the Rebellion. I didn't recognize anyone, myself. I did not know many of them, to be honest – I tried to avoid going into the Circle, whenever it was possible."
He turned to look at her. "The people you saw," he said, hesitantly, "were they important to you?"
Jillian cursed herself. Why had she decided this was a good topic to bring up? They had been having such a good discussion. Yes, it had been weighted with reminiscence, but it had been bright. Positive. Forward looking.
This, she realized too late, was something she should have left dead.
Except, to retreat now seemed cowardly and dishonest. Cullen offered so much of himself to her. She had to try.
"Yes," she said. "Many of them, actually. When the Circle fell, so many of us had no place to go. It wasn't like I could go home – House Trevelyan meant nothing to me after all of those years."
"Your father certainly would claim otherwise."
"My father is a glory-grabbing fool," she said, plainly, without a hint of spite.
Cullen laughed, but it was tempered. "So, where did you go?"
"You haven't heard this part?"
"I confess I have not. You seem surprised."
Jillian was, and she didn't try to hide it. "It would seem to me that this is the part about which Leliana would have been most concerned."
Surprisingly, Cullen's soft smile warmed at her comment. "Should I be concerned?" He asked.
"No, Cullen. Never."
"Then go on."
"I don't know how much you know about the Circle at Ostwick," Jillian began, trying to read the field.
"Little, beyond what you have shared with me. I know that it was better than many, but worse than some."
"It was better than most, I wager. Our Templars treated us well. I've learned since that they had a different set of orders in Ostwick then they had in Fereldan or anywhere else in the Free Marches. All we knew was that the Ostwick Templars were kind."
She hesitated here, somewhat afraid to continue. "Many of us," she said, softly, taking her time on each word, "mistook that for caring."
Cullen stilled beside her, and Jillian could feel her heartbeat thrumming hard in her throat.
"Many of us had not been with our parents long enough to have any other authority figures in our lives. We looked up to them. As I say, they were kind."
"And when the Circle fell?" Cullen asked.
"They weren't kind any more."
The wind blew cool off the mountains, and Jillian shivered, feeling cold.
"It's going to get dark soon," she said. "We should continue this inside."
Cullen rested a hand lightly on the small of her back, and Jillian smiled at him, reassuringly.
"This is all going somewhere, I promise," she said, trying for levity as she pulled away from the walls.
Cullen opened and closed his mouth several times, reaching for words and then rejecting each he found. After floundering for a moment, he growled, a low frustrated sound, and reached for her, pulling her firmly into his arms.
"It doesn't have to," he said, sounding angry at himself but sure in his words. "I just thank you for sharing this with me."
Jillian smiled, tucking her head against his chin. "I haven't even gotten to the interesting part."
He pulled away, expression terribly fond. "Then please, continue. But I agree, it would be best to move this indoors."
"The tavern or your quarters, then?"
"Well, I do have a bottle of brandy from West Hill hidden in my desk for special occasions. It used to be a bottle of what I hope was metaphorically called, well," Cullen laughed, flushing, "Called Dragon Piss, actually, but Cole replaced it. He assured me I would like this better. Would you like to share it with me?"
Jillian grabbed Cullen's hand, leading the way past the scouts and towards his office. "If it's got Cole's seal of approval, how can I not?"
"One is left hoping that his knowledge come from whatever magic it is he wields," Cullen said, grinning as he pulled open the door and gestured Jillian inside, " and not from experience."
"Can you imagine?"
"I can actually, though I wish I could not."
Jillian bit at her lip, mirth warming her face. Oh, she loved this man. At this point, her affection always burned lowly in the background, but when he was near – when he was like this – it peaked and danced and…oh, she hated how her words dripped like a drunk romantic, but she loved him. She truly did.
Cullen reached into his desk, pulling out a lovely bottle and two glasses. Jillian pulled a chair up beside him, leaning against his desk as he set a glass beside her.
"You know," he said, and his tone was soft, serious but friendly, "You don't have to continue. We can talk about something else. We can play chess if you'd like. I don't want you to feel like you have to tell me this."
"I know," she said, honestly. "But I do think I have to. Not for you, though. For me. If you would listen, I think it might help."
Cullen nodded, settling back into his chair.
"When we left, our group was composed half of Templars and half of Mages. Like I said, we got along all right before. Most of the mages thought that all of that Templar-Magi conflict was something only other Circles experienced. Something understandable, but something foreign. Anyway, we made our way north towards Markham. A Templar named Rouslan led us, and we didn't think much of that at the time. He said that we should try to connect with the mages at Markham's Circle before maybe catching a ship south at Wycome. I don't know. It all made sense at the time."
"But the Circle at Markham has been empty for years."
"How could we have known that, though? All of the mages who had a life before the Circle and had places to go were gone. Everyone left…we didn't know anything beyond the Circle walls. We didn't know."
Jillian reached for her glass, cradling it in her palms as she swirled the liquid.
"I had left the Order by then," Cullen said, his voice flat. "But though I had cut ties with the Templars, I know many of the northerners gathered in Markham and Wycome after Kirkwall."
Jillian nodded. "There were so many of them. They caught as many mages as they could and held them in the tower there. We went from one prison to another, but the Templars in Markham…they were different. The rules didn't apply any more."
"What did you do?"
She laughed, softly, old anger turning it rough at the edges. "We escaped," she said plainly. "And we brought most of the tower down with us."
"How many of you-?"
"Fifteen of forty. I'll never know what happened to the rest."
"Maker, Jillian. I'm sorry."
"I know all Templars aren't bad, Cullen. Look how many we have here in Skyhold. I had the rare good fortune of meeting truly good Templars and ex-Templars after our escape, but I also got separated from my group. The rest of my friends…it seems that they were not as fortunate and I."
"And those were the friends you saw at Haven?"
"Yes," Jillian said, taking a long sip of her brandy. "You asked me if I was having troubles of my own, and I suppose I am. With the march on the Arbor Wilds approaching…I fear I am about to see more familiar faces. And, as I said, had I not been separated from my companions, I most likely would be wearing hooded robes as well."
"No," Cullen said, fiercely. "You would not."
"You can't know that."
"I can," he said, stern but smiling. "I know you. You wouldn't have stood for it. You probably would have torn the Venatori right down from the inside, had you ended up there."
Jillian smiled broadly against the rim of her glass.
"I'm glad I wound up here instead," she said face warm.
"Maker's breath. I am too."