Cullen had a problem. A serious problem that could very well be the end of him. He narrowed his eyes. Perhaps he was being a bit too drastic. A sigh left him as he looked at his reflection in his full body mirror. He was dressed, looking prepared for the day. Inside, he was not. He was not prepared at all for this day. He had only gotten about three hours of sleep. The rest of his night had been spent attempting to remain asleep, tossing and turning, and occasionally growling in frustration.

His mind continued to conjured images of the Herald. Thoughts. Hopes. A huff left his mouth. He had been doing that all morning. Huffing. More than once though, he had caught himself smiling like a fool. He had hardened his face each time. Cullen was absolutely dreading the morning council. So much in fact that he was late. He knew he was late, and yet he stayed in his room, nearly twiddling his thumbs. A part of him wanted to go. Another part wanted to hide. The Commander clenched his jaw. After that incredible dream of her, he… was afraid to face her. Would he be able to conceal his attraction for her?

Attraction. For the Herald of Andraste. The first time she had aimed a smile his way, his insides had reacted in a curious manner. Odd. Perplexing. Stimulating. Ever since, he had found himself stuttering in her presence. Flushing. And even looking towards her horns, wanting to touch them. It had been an intriguing desire, though, not intimate. At least, that is what he had believed before that dream. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, again catching the beginnings of a smile. He scowled at his reflection before abruptly turning away from the mirror.

Okay. He needed to face this. Standing—well, pacing—in his room was not going to solve his problem. If anything, it would only cause more problems that he did not want to explain. Especially to his fellow advisors. With any luck, the Herald was still sleeping, and he would not be the last one to the meeting. Another image of her flashed through his mind. Her sleeping face. Her sleepwear. Puh! Suppressing the growl, Cullen opened his door and headed out.

It was a short walk to the war room. Wrapping his fingers around the handle, he shook his head. This. He could handle this. He commanded an army. He had faced and survived numerous catastrophes. This. This was nothing. Facing a woman after a night of dreaming of her. Easy. He was no longer a child who became flustered and ultimately ran away. He was a man and he could handle this. With a resolute nod, Cullen opened the door to the war room.

Three pairs of eyes stared back at him. Leliana's lips were parted as though she had frozen mid-sentence upon his arrival. Josephine had halted writing on her handheld board to look his way. Both women, though, faded from his sight when he met the Herald's eyes. She had turned from her usual spot at the table to face him. Her gaze was sharp, seemingly piercing his mind. Her brow arched as stood to her full height. "Commander," she greeted. Disinterested and down to business, it was her normal greeting. However, unlike before, the sound of her voice caused a vibration in his chest and rattled his heart.

As Varric liked to say: Well, shit.

Cullen lingered in the doorway. His gaze fell to his feet. "I… I apologize for my tardiness," he murmured. Stepping forward, he let the door close behind him. He cleared his throat and moved to his spot between his fellow advisors. He didn't glance at the Herald. He couldn't. "You can start the meeting." Honestly, he was more focused on the pieces on the map than the others.

"We already have started," Josephine supplied politely.

"Twenty minutes ago," Leliana finished. Her voice had crooned, yet there had been a hint of petulance. "Is there anything wrong, Commander Cullen?" He shook his head, trying not to think of wanting the Herald to say his name. He gave the spymaster a simple answer. Fatigue. She knew about his… fits, and so hopefully his answer would appease her. Thankfully, it seemed to work. "Right then. Let's continue."

The meeting was long. Cullen could understand the reason behind it. The Herald planned on leaving tomorrow morning to head back to the Hinterlands. She assigned and discussed tasks that she wanted done before she returned to Haven. For right after she acquired the horses, she would be heading to Val Royeaux to find out the situation there. She would be gone for weeks. She wanted to make sure the Inquisition continued to gather influence. Truly, it had been no wonder she led her own platoon of mercenaries.

Finally, the discussion seemed to be wrapping up. During the meeting, Cullen had kept his line of sight on the war table. When spoken to, he had given short answers and had remained relatively quiet. He had not wanted to risk a peek. It had been hard because he had felt her gaze on him. Even now, he felt her eyes, and it made him want to run away. No. No! He was the Commander of a growing army. He would not run away as he did in his youth. He would stand his ground and behave like an adult.

"Dismissed," the Herald ended the meeting. Cullen was ashamed to realize his legs were practically scurrying towards the door, following both Leliana and Josephine. Before he could make it, the horned woman cleared her throat. He flinched, knowing the action had been directed at him. "Commander, a moment." That had been his confirmation. His fellow advisors continued to walk away, casting him looks of slight concern before turning their backs to him. An inaudible sigh left him as he reluctantly shut the door. He turned, facing her. However, he kept his eyes downcast.

"Yes, Herald…?" Cullen asked.

"Have I done something to offend you?" she inquired. For the first time this morning, his gaze shot up to meet hers. Her question had been asked as though she had only wanted to know something trivial. But her eyes… They held a storm within them. She had realized a change in his behavior and had come to believe that she had been at fault. No. That was not true. Not her. Him. He was at fault. Cullen bit the inside of his mouth.

"N… No," he murmured, dropping his gaze again. His hands came together in front of him, wringing. He almost immediately clasped his hands behind his back. He cleared his throat. "No. You haven't." The Herald took a long stride towards him. Cullen tensed, eyes going wide. Her feet were planted in front of him. If he were to look up, he would see her freckles. He desperately wanted to look now.

"Then may I ask why you were glaring at me throughout the meeting?"

Had he? Cullen had been sure he kept his eyes firmly, stubbornly, on the war map. He bit the inside of mouth again. Perhaps he had, though… When she spoke, he normally watched her. But today? And glaring? It couldn't be. "I'm not sure what you mean, Herald." The Commander shifted his weight from his left foot to his right.

"I'm not sure what you mean either," she confessed.

"Herald…?"

"You… Well, before you glare at me, you smile just a bit," the horned woman muttered. She stepped back, feet leaving his line of sight. Cullen tensed immediately. Maker's breathe…! He had been doing it all morning. Catching himself smiling, and then scowling. She must have caught him. "I'm not sure what I've done to cause such a reaction. So I ask again, have I done something to offend you? I thought… after… I thought we were… amicable." Finally, the Commander let his gaze slowly move up her body before settling on her lips.

"You haven't," he repeated. He mentally shook his head, and then looked her in the eye. She had moved away from him enough that he could not see her freckles. He had to think of something that would ease her mind. She believed that he had come to dislike her. That couldn't be further from the truth… Cullen felt heat rise from his neck to his face. Dream aside, he had enjoyed her company. "I… well…" He cleared his throat, a rushed idea coming to his mind. "You are an admirable woman, Herald. I respect you, but…" The beginnings of a frown tugged at her lips. "But I can sense our—the Inquisition's—cause will become more dangerous. I'm a bit concerned about your abilities in the field." He swallowed hard, watching her eyebrows knit together. "You are a key member of the Inquisition, and yet you are the one who ventures out in the world, closing rifts and… recruiting agents. I was thinking… perhaps it might be a good idea-"

"You don't believe in my strength?" the Herald cut in. Her voice remained stoic, but a full frown had worked its way into her expression.

"No! That's not what I-"

"You have no right to judge my abilities in the field if you haven't even seen them," she continued, moving forward. Again, Cullen tried to protest. It had been ridiculous to say something like that. He merely thought it had been a better alternative than telling her the truth of his unintentional staring. But this conversation was already spiraling out of his control. Before he could get a full sentence out, the Herald held up her hand. He abruptly snapped his mouth shut. He had never seen her expression of anger, but surely this was it. Her teeth were clearly clenched and she breathed through her nose, causing her nostrils to flare. The Herald shut her eyes for a moment, and then swallowed. "Commander, I do not like your doubt."

"Herald, that wasn't what I meant…" Maker, he was beginning to sweat. She pinned him down with her golden gaze. Cullen found that he had become both intimidated and incredibly excited. He bit the inside of his mouth. The horned woman leaned forward, causing her freckles to become visible to his eyes.

"Meet me at the front gate in five minutes," she hissed. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "And bring your shield." He tried to speak, but she interrupted before words left his lips. "If you are even a second late, I will find you." Cullen gulped, feeling like prey trapped in a corner. The Herald straightened, and moved around him. She opened the door without effort, letting it slam shut behind her.

After a few moments of holding his breath, he released it in a shaky manner. Undoubtedly, he had made the Herald upset. Bring his shield, she had said. For what purpose? Five minutes… and a threat that lingered in his mind for longer than it should. Cullen stiffened suddenly. He only had five minutes to retrieve his shield and make it through the village to meet her. This was no time to be standing still. Hurriedly, he left the war room and headed to his quarters. He found his shield leaning against the wall.

Cullen held the silver safeguard close, pondering what the Herald planned to do. Why did she require his shield at all? But again, he had limited time, and so he hastily began moving towards the Chantry's entrance. Upon opening the door, he found the morning sun almost blinding. The Chantry should seriously consider having more windows. He, however, did not wait for his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the weather.

Steeling himself, the Commander very nearly marched through the village. Stiffly walking, to be honest. He was uncertain of what to expect from the Herald calling him out. Well, clearly she had been insulted. He hadn't meant to do that. Cullen had only wanted to suggest being more involved with the training of the recruits. Maybe she'd learn something that would help her in travels. But she hadn't given him time to explain, and had become angry with him. "I'm such a fool," he thought, frowning.

The gates of Haven were already opened. He had already heard the clashing of swords, but the sounds had become louder as he passed through. His eyes darted around, looking for any sign of horned woman. However, it appeared as though she had yet to arrive. Cullen allowed himself to breathe deeply, only to flinch when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. He turned to find a pensive Cassandra to his left. "Cullen, are you alright?" she questioned.

"I'm…" He sighed through his nose, calming himself. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Leliana has told me of… your strange behavior."

"I am fine, Cassandra," Cullen repeated. His fellow advisor worked fast, didn't she? "Just a minor headache." Lie. The ache was not in his head, but in his chest. But he surely did not want to tell Cassandra that. The seeker narrowed her eyes suspiciously. This woman who wanted the truth, and nothing but, could probably sense his lie. The Commander tried not to gulp under her penetrating gaze. Fortunately, he did not have to further the lie because the Herald had arrived.

"Adaar," Cassandra greeted. The rogue nodded her head in acknowledgement. She had changed out of her casual clothes and into clothes she wore whilst out on missions, dual weapons and all. Her eyes drifted to where the warrior woman's hand lay. Still on his shoulder. Cullen tensed. He cleared his throat as he moved away. Cassandra did not seem to notice, but the Herald shifted her gaze to his face. "I did not see you yesterday. It is not like you to break routine." The comment caused her yellow orbs to disappear behind closed eyes.

Cullen had wanted to ask her, and the seeker brought it up in such a casual way. He supposed he should be grateful. He would have fumbled with the question. When the Herald opened her eyes, they were focused on Cassandra. "I'll tell you at a later time. Right now, I have… business with the Commander, yeah." The warrior woman cut her eyes to him as though she had caught him in a lie.

"Are you sure-?"

"Cassandra! I trust your judgment and I wouldn't lie about that!" Cullen blurted out, becoming just a bit irritated. "I am fine." The bite in his words caused her to purse her lips. Still, she did not say anything more. The Commander snuck a glance at the Herald. She hadn't seemed to be curious at all on the matter. He felt his body deflate just a bit upon the realization. "If you're finished… the Herald and I have something to discuss." It had been an indication of ending the conversation, and Cassandra had picked up on it.

"Then I shall take my leave," she stated. "Adaar, Commander." Cullen watched the warrior woman head over to a practice dummy before he focused on the Herald again. Without looking at him, she began walking away.

"Let's go." It had sounded much like an order. Swiftly, he caught up to her and matched her pace. She took long strides, and so he kept up with a bit of difficulty. They walked for a while, nothing but silence between them. Throughout the trek, Cullen would periodically look behind them. Haven was so far away now, and yet they continued to move.

"Herald…? Just where are we going?" he asked after a few more moments had passed.

"Somewhere they won't hear your screams."

"Wh-What?!"

"I was kidding," she said, voice void of any mirth. A nervous chuckle escaped him. He flushed, feeling hot despite the weather. Maker, he was beginning to realize this woman would be the death of him. Cullen bit the inside of his mouth and rubbed the side of his neck. Suddenly, the Herald stopped. Her head shifted to the left, and then right. "We're here." Admittedly, Cullen did not know where 'here' was. They had come to a clearing, rid of trees yet full of snow. "Here is where I come after observing the training," the rogue informed him as though she had read his mind.

"I… I see," he remarked. He had been curious about her disappearances, but figured it hadn't been any of his business what she did in her free time. "Why are we here?"

"This where is we will spar," she answered bluntly.

"Spar?" Cullen echoed slowly.

"Yes." She faced him then, arching a brow. "You have doubts concerning my ability, and I intend to rid you of them. Personally." The Commander's eyes grew wide, suppressing a shiver from hearing her last word roll off her tongue.

"W-We don't have to do that," he protested. That's why she had told him to bring his shield. He always carried his sword, but not the shield. Cullen knew now that there was no way out of this. Still, he did not want to fight the Herald. He had noticed she had not put the word 'friendly' in front of spar, too. No. He didn't want this. "If you let me explain, I-"

"No." Once again, she interrupted. She had sounded eerily familiar to the Qunari in Kirkwall with that abrupt response. "Prepare yourself, Commander." She reached behind her, pulling both weapons from her back. She then moved several steps back, putting distance between them. "This is the only warning you'll get."

Cullen hastily unsheathed his sword. The moment, he was in a proper stance, she rushed at him. He blocked her right strike with his shield, and then blocked her left with his sword. His arms trembled, holding her back. "So strong…!" he thought, gritting his teeth. If he were to hesitate with this opponent, he could walk away with serious injuries. If he could walk at all. The Commander furrowed his brow, meeting her stare head on. "Fine." He breathed in deeply through his nose "I'll respond to you, Herald!" The breath was released, and her eyes seemed to light up. Pushing his body forward, he forced her away. The Herald stumbled a bit before righting herself. She brought her weapons in front of her in an X. Seconds passed before she ran at him again.

And so they clashed. Over and cover, their customized iron hummed under the force of their collisions. As he thought, she was strong. But she was graceful. She twirled and cartwheeled, dodging and evading his strikes seemingly with ease. When she came at him, her strikes were hard and precise. If the situation were any different, the strikes would be deadly as well. A rogue with the strength of a warrior… The Herald was art in motion. Cullen had never been one for art, or for seeing fighting as anything more than violence, but there was something frighteningly beautiful about her style. Really, he had become distracted a few times during the spar.

The Commander panted lightly, taking the breather she had graciously given. Or perhaps needed. She, too, panted, watching him at a distance. She fingers curled over her remaining sword. He had managed to knock the other away with his shield during one of their clashes. She had later wretched his shield away from his arm. It had felt as though she had tried to rip his arm from its socket.

Suddenly, she sucked in a huge breath, and then ran at him again. Cullen became rigid, preparing for the approach. Once she was in range, he thrust his sword straight. She spun on the ball of her right foot, dodging the tip of his sword and gliding past his outstretched arm. With a sharp rap to his arm, she caused him to lose the grip on his hilt. As the sword fell, the Herald gripped his shoulder, knocking him down with herself on top.

He winced, feeling the coldness of her blade against his neck. She then raised the sword, tip pointed down. "You're good," she complimented with a smirk. On her knees, her torso hovered over his. A flash of the dream appeared in his mind. He gulped, hopefully, soundlessly. "I'd probably be in trouble if you didn't hold back."

"And I'd probably be dead if you didn't hold back," Cullen replied. "You are impressive, Herald." Her brow arched and her smirked shifted into a candid smile. "But I also believe you're a bit impulsive, though you attempt to hide it." He finally made his advantage known by lightly pressing the tip of his hidden dagger against her. She gasped, eyes going wide in surprise. "Until your opponent is dead, you should think there's always a backup plan."

"Spewing compliments with that mouth and arming yourself at the same time—you are brilliant, Commander." She looked in between their bodies, eyeing the small projectile he gripped in his hand, so she did not see his cheeks flush. "I didn't think you warrior types cared for other blades." The Herald moved to the side, body no longer hovering above him. With a grunt, Cullen sat up. He spied his shield a bit away, only because it glinted in the sunlight. "Commander…?" He returned his eyes to the Herald as he slipped the dagger back in place of his boot. She sat beside him, knees raised. She wrapped her arms around her legs. Her eyes didn't seem to be focused on anything in particular. "I have a confession."

"Hm…? Confession? I'm… but I'm not a Chantry Brother!"

The Herald blinked once, and then turned incredulous eyes on him. Cullen flushed in embarrassment. Then she cracked a smile. "Oh, you're definitely a Chantry boy, though." She laughed a bit, causing his insides to flutter. The Commander swallowed hard, looking elsewhere. "Not that type of confession," she continued. "I don't even believe in the Maker."

"O-Oh…"

"Does that bother you?"

"No… maybe a little."

To his surprise, she chuckled. "Definitely a Chantry boy," she remarked. Her gaze left him. She didn't speak for a time. Cullen couldn't help but wonder if she believed in anything at all. She had been raised outside of the Qun. She had a choice to believe in the Maker, and yet apparently she did not choose Him. Ironic that the Herald of Andraste did not care for the Husband. "Eh…" The Herald cleared her throat. "Anyway… To tell the truth, I wanted to fight you. Wanted to see what you were capable of," she admitted. "I knew what you had said before wasn't meant to be bad, but I used it as an excuse to see… another side of you."

"Another side?" Cullen repeated.

"Mm." She nodded her head. "You were ferocious. I can see why some people compare you with a lion. I… like that side of you as well." The Commander couldn't fight the way his body reacted to her words. He had already been sweating due to their spar, but now his body felt on fire. He had little doubt he could melt the snow if his skin touched it. He bit the inside of his mouth, attempting to repress the smile that threatened to take over his face. "Powerful and solid. Matches your voice, I guess," she continued. Cullen coughed lightly and turned his face away so that she wouldn't see. "… How was I?" How should he answer that?

Beautiful.

Breath-taking.

May I kiss you?

Cullen wiped the sweat from brow. Maker breath! He couldn't say any of that. "I… erm…" He tried to think of something that didn't sound suggestive. "You were… You adapted well. You're very agile… and flexible." Mentally, he sighed. It had been better than what his thoughts wanted to blurt out. "I'm curious as to who taught you." Gradually, his eyes drifted back to her. She was smiling brilliantly as though he hadn't given such a lame compliment.

"Oh, it was my ma—er my mother, yeah," she answered. "Originally, she taught me for self-dense. Don't know why—it's not like we met anyone else, but I had a knack for learning, so she taught me a lot. She said the same thing to me before. That I adapt well."

"I see…"

"Did you start at a young age, too?"

"Ah… Well, yes. While other boys my age were playing, I had been practicing swinging my sword. For hours, every day. Sometimes I would forget to eat. Self-taught, I suppose, until the Templar Order took me in." He chuckled a bit. "Maker, my form was bad." The Herald laughed along with him.

"I could see that. Bet you were a serious little brat." Actually, her comment hadn't been too far from the truth. A silence fell upon them, though he wouldn't call it uncomfortable. Cullen looked her way again. She seemed serene. Even in her disheveled state. During their spar, strands of hair had come from the bun she wore. Her scarf was no longer around her neck. Her jacket had slipped from her right shoulder. His gaze became mesmerized by the sweat sliding down her skin. She slowly turned her head, eyes catching him. "What?"

"… I…" Cullen didn't know what to say. He rubbed the side of his neck and awkwardly looked down at his lap. He cleared his throat, biting the inside of his mouth. "Oh…! Herald, I-" He shifted his gaze to her again. She blinked innocently. He cleared his throat again, briefly staring at a nearby snow mound. "I… I wondered if… you had decided to watch the training from afar after all… since I did not see you yesterday."

"Ah, right." Her finger tapped against her lower lip. "I guess I missed a lot of things yesterday. Uh… no. I just didn't show up. I was exhausted."

"From what, if I may ask?"

"Solas."

"… Solas?"

"Yeah. I finally convinced him to show me his spirit friends. He didn't tell me the trip was going to tire me out," she explained, lifting her right shoulder.

Spirit friends...? Cullen did not know much about the elf, but he did know the elf had an—unhealthy—obsession with the Fade and its inhabitants. Because of him and his knowledge of the Fade that the Herald had been able to survive in the first place. It did not take much convincing for the elven mage to begin spouting how great spirits were. However, he did not realize that the Herald had been interested as well. He furrowed his brow. "Trip?" he asked.

"Oh yeah. He can dream of the Fade… and also have me dream with him, I guess. I-I don't really understand how it works," the Herald said. "But I was able to meet one of his friends. But I was dead tired after the experience. I didn't even change into my normal night clothes before I fell asleep." Cullen gulped as more images from last night crept into his mind.

"Um—why did you want to meet a spirit?" he inquired, pushing the thoughts down.

"That… I wanted to know if it was the same as what I believe." The horned woman rested her chin on her right knee, eyes closing for a time. "I grew up believing in the Spirits. But not spirits that Solas talks about. Spirits that can so easily be corrupted into demons. I'm interested in them, but only in comparison to the Spirits I believe in."

"I'm… not sure I understand," Cullen admitted. The Herald inhaled, and then sighed heavily. He wondered if he upset her.

"My parents encouraged me to believe in whatever I wanted. They told me I had a choice. They did not want me to have restrictions like what they went through under the Qun. I was just a child, though," the Herald suddenly chuckled. "To me, it was a game. When my mother asked me what I wanted to believe in, I answered nature. That is what is real to me. I could see and feel them. As I grew older, I separated nature into Spirits. Water, Fire, Earth, and Air—nature Spirits. Eventually, the game became real, especially after my ba—uh my father started believing with me. My mother was a bit disappointed that I didn't become Andrastian like her."

"Your mother is Andrastian?"

"Yeah. After the Qun, she turned to Andraste. My father was resistant to pretty much everything after living under the Qun, though…"

"Can I hear more about your Spirits?"

"… Really? You want to know?" She finally looked his way again, eyes holding confusion. Her shoulders lifted and her ears twitched. Cullen found it odd. He hadn't noticed her ears twitching before. Well, actually, that wasn't true. Perhaps he had simply not paid attention to it.

"Don't misunderstand. I won't turn my back on the Maker, but it does sound interesting."

"What? I'm not trying to convert-!"

"I am kidding, Herald."

"Oh."

Cullen almost laughed. That had been the first time he had heard her voice squeak like that. He wondered if he could make her do that again. The Herald coughed, muttering something under her breath. He had not been to make it out. She then spoke louder in a clear voice. She began to explain her beliefs to him. She described how the Spirits existed separately, but in harmony. However, they would sometimes clash. Creating or destroying. The Spirits regulated life and death. She believed that when a person dies, they would be reborn eventually.

He watched her talk about her form of religion. She seemed pretty enthused about it, especially since it started out as a game. A game… She was playful, wasn't she? To be honest, he couldn't see her following the Chantry, anyway. Cullen wondered if it would be okay to maybe accept his own feelings. She was so different than anyone he had ever encountered before. It became so clear after hearing she didn't even believe in the Maker. She was this. He was that. She the light. He the dark. Opposites. But… "I like you," he thought.

A chill went through him. He felt the heat spread throughout his body. He liked her. Despite their differences, Cullen enjoyed spending time with her. He looked forward to their talks. He wanted to know more things about her. He wanted her… for himself. His lips pressed hard against each other. A selfish thought. The Herald could not be for just anyone. But… "I like you." He shivered again. Admitting it to himself made his heart jump, exhilarated. "I like you. But I can never say." He would be content with admiring her from afar. Being so close, and yet so far away—he would endure it.

"Commander." Her voice addressed him. She lightly poked his shoulder, bringing him to attention. "We've been out here too long. You're going to catch a cold because of me. Let's head back to Haven."

"Ah… Y-Yes, Herald."

She stood first, heading to collect her discarded items. As she walked away from him, she pulled at her hair, tugging the loose strands back in place. Cullen had no illusions, though. He had come to be fond of her. That did not mean he should expect the same in return. Maybe she found humans unattractive or simply would never consider it. She would probably never look at him in that way. He wasn't good enough. Still… "Look at me… please," he thought.

To his surprise, she turned, in the process of picking up her sword. She blinked slowly. Cullen froze under her stare. His heart pounded against his ribcage. He felt himself tremble just a bit. The Herald arched a brow before gesturing over to his shield. Immediately, he hurried over to collect it. The ringing in his ears had yet to cease. It had been a mere coincidence, but he took it as a form a hope. Foolish. So very foolish.

Still the next time she came to him in his dreams, he foolishly told her he wanted her to himself.

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