So, I wasn't originally going to post this, as I'm new to Dragon Age (I am currently playing catch up, I promise), there are a ton of fics with the same basic idea as mine, and it's been so long since I've been on this site that I don't even recall my original login information anymore. However, a friend insisted that I share since my urge to write something has reared its head at long last, so here goes. This will follow the basic outline laid out by Inquisition along with my own personal additions, because there was just not enough time with Cullen for my liking. I hope you enjoy!

The day was crisp, clear and cloudless, the glowing sun making a rare appearance over the frozen taiga that was Haven. It warmed the snow covering the town's well-worn pathways, turning it into an ugly muddy slush as the usual flow of foot traffic moved along. Droplets of frigid water dripped from crystalline icicles that adorned the eaves of nearby rooftops adding their own rhythmic cadence to the bustle of the small town.

Outside the gates of Haven's stone walls, a tall, blonde man wearing a fur epaulière over plate armor and a leather clad woman with a sinister-looking pair of daggers strapped to her back stood conversing, their words lost to everyone but them as the din of sparring recruits filled the wintry air. Although their eyes followed the movements of the troops training before them as they spoke, Commander Cullen Rutherford and Lady Brynn Trevelyan were deep in conversation. The Commander had just finished answering an onslaught of questions concerning his own personal history and his life as a Templar to the woman before him, to include a rather embarrassing query into a Templar's vows. He found that it was now his turn to ask the Lady Trevelyan about herself.

"What about you? What was your life like before all of this," he inquired gesturing toward the practising troops with a gloved hand , a wry smile playing upon his lips. Brynn could detect a note of genuine curiosity in the man's voice despite the nonchalant manner in which the question was posed.

"There's not much to say, really. I grew up in Ostwick and spent a good deal avoiding as much of House Trevelyan as I could. I never had any interest in the Chantry or the Maker, despite my family's devotion. Even at a young age, I couldn't understand how so many people could so readily believe in something they had absolutely no proof existed. This was cause for great disappointment as far as my parents were concerned. The Trevelyan's are a pious clan, notable for their connections with the Chantry, and I was expected to join in service in some way, since I had no hope of succeeding my father, the Bann. I am the youngest of my siblings, you see. However, becoming heir to House Trevelyan wasn't something that I would have wanted, anyway. Nobility and my title were the only things I disdained more than the Chantry, which worked to further my family's disappointment in me. I can't imagine the looks on their faces when they hear that I'm being touted as Andraste's Herald," Brynn sighed, shaking her head at the thought. Cullen watched, with more interest than was probably decent, as the movement caused strands of her shoulder length hair to fall across the sparsely freckled bridge of her nose. He noted vaguely that her skin was almost the same color as the sandy brown locks that now covered one of her eyes. She swiped a hand across her forehead to brush the offending hair back from her face.

"Ah, yes. There is some...irony...in the fact that someone as faithless as you has fallen into such a role," he replied ,inwardly cringing at the clumsy words that had just tumbled from his mouth. He watched as she quirked a single eyebrow over one of her eyes; eyes so grey that they reminded him forcefully of the stormy seas he had recently traversed. Quickly, Cullen averted his gaze, chastising himself, not only for putting his foot in his mouth but also for allowing his thoughts to run away with him.

"Faithless, huh? Nice to know that you think so well of me," she retorted sardonically, her expression now unreadable. She moved to cross her arms over her chest, defensively, her weight shifting from one leg to the other as she leaned away from him. Cullen found himself frustrated by this sudden change in attitude. Mere moments ago she was teasing him mercilessly about vows of chastity with a warm smile on her lips, and now, because of a slight slip of the tongue, her demeanor had transitioned to match their frigid surroundings.

"Yes, well, from the sound of it, you think me a fool for believing in a Maker of which I have no proof. Would you like to also censure me for joining the Templars and serving the Chantry?"

"I don't recall saying any such thing," she replied glacially, pursing her full lips in annoyance. "And I don't like having my words twisted into something more than what they are. I'm sorry that my lack of piety makes you uncomfortable, Commander, but I don't think any less of those who choose that way of life, just because I don't understand it. As for the Templars and the Chantry, you've left both behind and joined the Inquisition, have you not? You made those choices for some reason or another, but the short of it was that neither was doing the job you thought they ought to, so you moved on to a better cause. Tell me I'm wrong."

"Ah...I...I'm sorry," he stammered, feeling the heat rising in his face as he rubbed at the back of his neck with his gloved hand and cursing himself mentally. "I shouldn't have assumed."

"No, you shouldn't have. Especially when you're the one who asked the question in the first place," she snapped at him irately, her olive cheeks flushed slightly. "Next time you inquire into someone's life, make certain you want to hear what it is they have to say. I realize my beliefs are unpopular, but if you had the Chantry forced upon you since birth, you may well have felt the same. Forgive me for wasting your time with my blaspheming."

Cullen followed her retreating form with his eyes as she stormed away from him, unable to take his gaze away from swaying of her hips until she had disappeared behind Haven's gates. He fought the urge to slam his fist against the stone wall behind him. That was not the direction their conversation was supposed to take.

The Commander could recall their first time he had spoken with the Lady Trevelyan so vividly, it was almost as if he had memorized the words like lines for a play. It had gone much more favorably than this last interaction. Closing his eyes, he searched his memory for the words they had shared. He had started the conversation by telling the Herald of the pilgrims and residents of Haven flocking to join the Inquisition.

'None made quite the entrance you did,' he had said to her. His tone had been almost playful, and he could remember feeling a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

'At least I got everyone's attention,' was her equally lighthearted reply.

'That you did,' he had continued, giving her a sidelong glance. The corners of her eyes had been crinkled in a charming smile that had set his pulse racing.

Then he had proceeded to ramble on about witnessing the mage uprising in Kirkwall, nonsense pertaining to his recruitment to the Inquisition and Seeker Pentaghast's involvement, whilst Brynn had reassured him that the mark upon her hand would seal the breach in the sky. He had continued on in his rambling about the chantry, templars and mages, before he had realized that he was getting a bit long-winded.

'Forgive me,' he had apologized, 'I doubt you came here for a lecture.'

'No, but if you have one prepared, I'd love to hear it,' she had quipped with a smirk of her own.

'Another time, perhaps,' he had replied with a chuckle.

At the time, he had been certain that she was flirting with him. Although now that he gave it more thought, it was possible that he had just hoped that she was flirting with him, because he found her so damned appealing. It didn't matter now, he had just blown any chance he might have had with her. It was best to just put the idea out of his head completely as it would only distract from the task at hand. If only that wasn't such a difficult feat. Reluctantly, Cullen turned his attention back to the troops sparring in front of him deciding to vent some of his frustration upon them.

x.X.x

"Insufferable man," muttered Brynn under her breath as she marched her way to the apothecary's shack to deliver his master, Taigen's, notes. Why had she ever thought stopping and chatting with Cullen on the way back into to Haven was a good idea? Unbidden thoughts of his handsome visage clouded her vision, before she forced the image from her mind.

So he was nice to look at. That didn't mean he was necessarily a gem, as evidenced by their previous conversation. Plus he hadn't really played the part of gentleman upon their first meeting on the way to stabilize the breach. What had he been thinking, congratulating the Seeker on closing the rift? As if that woman had the power to seal breaches in the Fade.

"Well, it wasn't like you did either, until recently,' quipped a small voice in the back of her mind. Brynn had to concede that point. Still, he had been so accusing when he had turned from Cassandra to her.

'I hope they're right about you,' he had said coldly, the look in his eyes hard and angry. 'We lost a lot of people to get you here.'

As if that had been her intention! As if she truly wished harm to any of the Inquisition's soldiers! She had gone with Cassandra willingly to close the breaches, and apparently that had counted for nothing. She could understand the anger and mistrust surrounding the loss of the Divine and so many others at the Conclave, but surely, if she had been the one to cause such devastation, she wouldn't return willingly to the scene of her crime. It seemed he really was that same thoughtless man that she had met in the mountains, after all.

What was more aggravating, was that Brynn had been so looking forward to her next meeting with the Commander, considering how well she thought their conversation had gone the first time around. During her time in Val Royeaux, the recruitment of First Enchanter Vivienne and a rather obnoxious elf called Sera to her band of unlikely allies, and the following weeks she spent assisting the refugees in the Hinterlands, she had found her mind wandering to the Commander more than was appropriate, especially given her situation. She had been all nerves and anticipation when her gaze alighted on him overseeing his troops outside of Haven's walls upon her return from the late apothecary's hut.

Brynn huffed in frustration, stomping her feet through the slushy snow on the well-traveled pathway in front of her. She could feel the cold, wet stuff through her sodden boots as it splashed beneath her feet, but she didn't care. She continued her furious trudging until she felt herself collide with something solid. Before she could fall backwards into the soupy slush, a pair of surprisingly strong arms reached out, gripping her by the waist, to steady her.

"Solas!" she gasped, staring up in wide-eyed surprise at the bald elf. He had obviously been pacing back and forth between the buildings in front of Adan's shack. "I apologize. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

"The fault is not yours alone. I, too, should have paid better attention to my surroundings," he replied matter-of-factly, his blue eyes peering at her with a sort of intensity that made Brynn feel, with no small amount of discomfort, like he was reading her thoughts. "You seem upset. Is something wrong?"

"Its...nothing," she sighed, her grey eyes failing to meet his as she spoke. Brynn shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other under the apostate's acute scrutiny.

"A lie," the elf stated bluntly as he clasped his hands behind his back, "but I will forgive your reluctance to confide in me."

"I'm just frustrated with our Commander. I'll get over it," she admitted, giving Solas a wry smile. Brynn thought she could detect the corners of the mage's mouth turn upwards a minute fraction. She found it unnerving that he always seemed to have some sort of special insight into everything.

"He does seem...less diplomatic than your other advisors, but I do believe him well-intentioned. Perhaps you should give him the benefit of the doubt. Ah, but I am speaking without knowledge of the situation. My apologies."

"No apologies necessary…From you, anyway," she added quickly, with a small smile. "Cullen, however, won't be given such leniency. Well, if you'll excuse me, I have some notes to deliver."

The elf tilted his head in gracious farewell as she rushed inside the apothecary's hut. Brynn thrust the notes at the man inside, briefly explaining that she had found them for him, before deciding to retire to her own hut for the day. She could hardly wait to remove her water-logged boots from her feet.

As soon as she had shut the rickety door of her hut behind her, Brynn immediately moved to build a fire inside of the stone fireplace on the far wall of her quarters. She surveyed her temporary home with satisfaction, as she unstrapped her daggers from her back before sitting down on the ground and pulling off her boots to warm her toes by the now merrily crackling fire. It was true, as Josephine had mentioned earlier that day, that her living conditions were nowhere near what would be considered comfortable at home in Ostwick, but she had slept in worse places.

As it was now, she had a decent-sized and surprisingly comfortable bed to sleep in and a small, round table with a sturdy chair at which to take meals on one side of the one-roomed hut. On the other side was a well-worn desk and another chair, although she wasn't sure she would have need to use them, and on the wall opposite the fireplace were two bookcases, one on either side of the entrance. Brynn could easily call a place like this home if given the opportunity.

She pondered on the freedoms she could have if she hadn't been born a Bann's daughter, if politics and religion didn't consume her life, reclining back on her elbows as the fire warmed her feet. After a while Brynn found herself yawning drowsily and decided to settle on top of her comfortable bedding for a quick nap before dinner. Despite the fact that she remained in her leathers, she quickly drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

After what had seemed like only minutes of being asleep, Brynn was jolted awake by a loud knock upon her door. Startled, she jumped quickly out of her bed, moving across the room soundlessly on her bare feet as she made for the door. She opened it a crack, peering out into the darkness of night beyond. She had slept longer than she had intended.

"I brought you dinner, by way of apology, and also because you apparently slept through it," Commander Cullen chuckled, taking in the portion of her disheveled hair and sleep-ridden eyes that he could see through the small opening before him. "May I come in for a moment?"

"Oh!" she gasped, realizing that she was letting Cullen stand outside in the frigid night air. "Of course, Commander."

Brynn stepped back, taking the door with her and attempting to smooth out her hair as best she could as Cullen entered. His tall, armor-clad frame seemed to fill the space, making it appear even smaller than it actually was. Wordlessly, he handed her a steaming bowl of vegetable stew and some bread, which she accepted gratefully. She could feel her stomach beginning to grumble its approval as the delicious smell of food wafted underneath her nose. She moved to set it down on the table resting at the foot of her bed.

"I...Thank you," she stammered nervously, unprepared for the commander's thoughtful apology, or his presence in general. His eyes seemed to dart around the room, observing every square inch of his surroundings from her disheveled bedding to the pair leather boots sitting in front of the fireplace to the daggers placed haphazardly over the mess of papers upon the small desk, almost as though he was looking for something. It struck Brynn that he seemed to be looking everywhere but at her, and she wondered briefly if the man was uncomfortable being in such close proximity to her when no other people were present. She found the idea that he might be just a little bit shy incredibly endearing.

"Think nothing of it," he replied gallantly, with a small smile, his gaze flickering to hers for the briefest of moments. His back seemed to straighten before he spoke again, his words coming out a bit more stiffly than before. "I was rude when we spoke earlier today. I felt it necessary to apologize."

"Well, yes, you already said that," Brynn said with a soft smile of her own. For some reason, her heart seemed to be picking up its pace within her chest as she watched him. She was certain that he would hear it if it decided to beat any harder. "Would you like to have a seat?" she continued, gesturing to the chair tucked away beneath her cluttered desk.

"No, no, I'm fine, thank you."

He stood in front of the fireplace with one hand resting on the pommel of his sword, the other hand resting on top of it. Brynn had noticed this stance was a habit of his. She decided she would remain standing as well, then, but she could not help but feel foolish standing there in all her armor save for her boots, her feet awkwardly bare.

"Commander...Cullen, I...I am sorry as well. I know my beliefs are...unusual, and I carelessly shared them anyway. I should have expected you to feel as though I was judging your faith. I have been on the receiving end of similar reactions before. I assure you, that making you uncomfortable was not my intention, but…"

"No, Lady Trevelyan, you were correct in your earlier statement," Cullen interjected, his expressive amber eyes searching hers as he spoke. What he was searching her expression for, she did not know, but Brynn could feel her cheeks grow warm as she found herself unable to pry her gaze from his. "I should not have made assumptions. I was the one who asked you to tell me about yourself, after all. I am the guilty party in this, and I offer my sincere apologies."

His voice had grown soft, as he finally tore his eyes from hers, rubbing at his neck in discomfiture. Brynn noticed that he looked even more handsome with the lambent fire light reflecting off of his breastplate and illuminating his face. Brynn suddenly felt as though her stomach were filled with a great many fluttering creatures as she drank in his appearance from the stubble that outlined his jaw to the worry lines of his forehead to the warmth the dying fire gave his blonde curls as it flickered.

"They are accepted, with my gratitude at your concern and consideration," she answered, nodding at the food she had placed upon her table. She had just been so consumed with thoughts of how the rough stubble of his chin would feel beneath her lips that she was surprised she had even managed a coherent response.

"Ah, yes," he mumbled, nodding his head, his eyes now looking anywhere but at hers once again. Brynn couldn't stop herself from pressing her lips together in a smile at his reserved behavior. It seemed that the Commander truly was shy after all, and she had been staring quite intently. "Well, I'd best be off."

She watched as he made his way across the room and to the door. She could hear the hinges creak and groan as it opened, but before he could set a foot outside, Brynn called out to him. Silhouetted in doorway his breath coming out in long streams of white as it met the glacial air outside, Cullen paused, turning his head slightly to peer over his furry epaulière at the woman behind him.

"Your faith. I think it's amazing, not foolish. That you could still maintain faith in the Maker after everything you've seen...everything you've experienced...I only wish it was so easy for me."

"It isn't easy," he murmured, the look in his eyes now miles away from where he was currently standing. A soft sigh escaped from between his scarred lips, as he stepped out into the night, letting the door fall closed behind him softly. Brynn listened to the crunching of his heavy footsteps upon the frost-covered ground until she could no longer hear them, before turning her attention to the steaming meal her unexpected guest had brought her. She knew she would find herself dwelling upon the evening's events and that faraway look in the Commander's tawny eyes far longer than was necessary.