It was a long, cold, hard walk through the mountains, but the weather stayed clear, and the pace was easier.
And, Killeen thought, we're following the Herald now — not leaving her behind.
They were all tired, many injured, always cold, but there was a sense of determination now, even from the townspeople, as if they were an army on a hard, forced march to victory and not a gaggle of terrified refugees fleeing unimaginable disaster. The Herald strode ahead of them, her closest companions and advisers near her.
Cullen among them, not wanting to leave her side for even a moment.
Back in the ranks, Killeen slogged onward. She had found the little girl's mother and reunited the pair, finally learned that the mother's name was Anandra and the little girl was Felandaris, wondered if there was a brother called Rashvine Nettle and stifled a laugh. They walked near her, now, Fel having decided that she and Kill were bestest friends. When the girl tired, Anandra and Kill took turns carrying her, as long as they could manage with the heavy packs on their backs. At night, once Kill had made the rounds of the camp, counted heads for the tenth time that day, checked on injuries and received reports, then trudged to the side of the camp where their leaders were to deliver the information to Cullen, the three of them settled around the same fire, huddled together for warmth.
From time to time during the days, Cullen would drop back to walk beside them, giving Killeen a chance to brief him on anything that had happened, sometimes even taking a turn to carry Fel. The little girl took a shine to him as well, especially after he hoisted her to his shoulders one day and let her ride, proud as a queen, above the whole cavalcade. Fel would struggle to stay awake each night until Cullen came by, after the evening meal, to crouch by their fire and make one final check with Killeen before sleep.
Tell me a story, Ser Bear, Fel begged each time, and Cullen would oblige, spinning a tale of a brave knight called Ser Felandaris and her adventures rescuing various woodland animals from assorted dangers, a story that seemed to have no end and doubtless never would reach an end, given the exhausted child fell asleep in moments, leaning on his shoulder with one fist knotted in the fur of his collar and the other tucked against her heart.
Sometimes, untangling Fel's fingers from his cloak, Cullen glanced at Kill and seemed about to speak, but then he would remember Anandra, and fall silent. Kill wasn't sure whether to miss the quiet confidences they had used to share or to be relieved there was no opportunities for them here, given that they would doubtless be about the Herald, the brave and beautiful Herald, and what Cullen felt for her.
She would have to hear it, sooner or later. She would have to listen, and make the right noises, and tease him just the right enough, because that was what a friend, a good friend, would do.
But she couldn't help but be grateful for this chance to get used to the idea, first.
When they straggled across the bridge into Skyhold, Killeen heard gasps of awe and cries of relief all around her.
It is impressive, she thought, and then, with a soldier's cursed practicality, and half-falling down, with who knows how many unsound floors and walls, and chimneys that will need sweeping, and rubble that will need clearing …
And water to haul and firewood to cut and beasts to stable and …
As Cullen, Lady Montilyet and the Spymaster stood in close conversation, Killeen took one minute to stretch out the knots that her pack had left in her back, and went to round up her troops and get started.
She paused, briefly — as they all paused — as the Herald became the Inquisitor, as Cullen stood in the courtyard and rallied them all to follow the woman he loved, she cheered and shouted with the rest … and went back to work.
It was a huge relief that Cullen seemed to shake off his distraction, to bring his usual focus to the task of getting Skyhold firstly, safe, and secondly, habitable. The task was so enormous that Killeen was not sure she would have been able to keep track of all the different threads of it if it had been entirely down to her.
Fel trailed after her, at first, and Killeen let her — the castle was full of dangers for a small child who might not think to test a floor before walking on it, and Fel mostly understood that when adults were busy with important things, children should stand quietly and not interrupt them. When a room by the gate was cleared out and Adan set up a school there on the Inquisitor's instructions, Killeen found she missed the little form flitting after her, clutching a scrap of parchment and a twig broken off to resemble Killeen's own pencil, studiously scrutinising the same walls and staircases and piles of supplies Killeen did.
Fel needs an education, though, she thought, crossing the upper courtyard. An education — and to spend time with her family, not traipsing over this crumbling pile with a soldier who barely has time to make sure she eats lunch.
Killeen turned toward the stairs that led to Cullen's temporary "desk" — a table in the open air — when a familiar, not-entirely-welcome, voice called down from the stairs to the Great Hall: "Hello. Excuse me, you're Lieutenant Killeen?"
Killeen stopped, and looked up at the Herald. Inquisitor, she corrected herself. "Yes, your worship," she said.
The Inquisitor wrinkled her nose in a pretty grimace, and came down the stairs. "If you must be formal, and I suppose you must on duty, then please. Inquisitor is enough."
"Yes, Inquisitor," Killeen said, thinking how by the Maker did you know my name, anyway?
As if reading her mind, the Inquisitor said, "Commander Cullen's spoken of you. I recognised you from his description."
Killeen didn't want to think of Cullen telling the Inquisitor she's the scar-faced one with the broken nose, but her treacherous imagination played the words in his familiar, honey-coloured voice. "Oh," she said.
"And we met, at Haven — briefly. I don't know if you remember."
"I remember. There wasn't really time for formal introductions, though."
The Inquisitor laughed. "Cullen said you were funny." She's the funny, scar-faced one with the broken nose.
Better.
Barely.
"I was looking for him, actually," the Inquisitor said, "this place is so huge I keep getting lost. And then I saw you and I thought, ah, Cullen's Kill will know where he is to within three feet at all times. So, do you?"
"Yes," Killeen said, trying to come to terms with the fact that Cullen and the Inquisitor had clearly found an awful lot of time to talk to each other in the days since Haven if they'd run so low of topics as to talk quite so much about her. "I'm on my way to report to him, actually. It's this way."
The Inquisitor fell into step beside her. "I wanted to thank you, for what you did, back at Haven — and after."
Killeen missed a step on the stairs, caught herself, and turned, staring. "What I did?"
"I wouldn't have made it much further if they hadn't found me," the Inquisitor said. "And Cullen could never have left the townspeople without someone to step in for him, someone he knew would take care of them, of everything. And before that — I have no idea how to load a trebuchet. Cullen said you didn't hesitate — didn't even need to be ordered — just led your people out there."
"I don't recall you hesitating, either," Killeen pointed out.
"Well, but it was my fault," the Inquisitor said.
"It was the fault of Corypheus," Killeen said flatly.
"He wouldn't have —"
"No." Forgetting herself, Killeen took the other woman by the arm. "Do not ever for one moment let yourself imagine that you are in some way to blame for an arse-hole trying to kill you. That's a shortcut to making yourself useless with second-guessing every move you make. He picked the fight. The only responsibility you have is to finish it."
"Is that the speech you give to all raw recruits?"
Killeen felt herself flush, and carefully removed her hand from the Inquisitor's person. "I'm sorry, your worship. Inquisitor."
"Don't be," the Inquisitor said. "I need all the good advice I can get. And Cullen was right about how tough you are, too. He said you were the iron hand in his velvet glove. Oh, I see him."
Killeen looked down the stairs to see Cullen looking up at them. He must have thought himself unobserved, to gaze at the Inquisitor with such intensity, and indeed, as Killeen's gaze met his he blushed, and turned away, rubbing the back of his neck.
"These can wait," Killeen said, holding up her handful of reports. "Go talk to him."
"Thank you," the Inquisitor said, and jogged down the stairs, absurdly graceful.
Killeen lingered, carefully out of earshot.
"You need to move closer if you want to eavesdrop," a melodious voice drawled behind her.
"Hello, Pavus," Killeen said without turning. "That's why I'm up here."
"A beautiful woman with no curiosity is a crime," Dorian said, skipping down a step and lounging against the wall beside her. "What's got your forehead furrowed like that, pray tell? You should go and stick a sword in it immediately, whatever it is. You have lovely skin but no need to tempt wrinkles."
"Just thinking of all the work ahead to make this place what it needs to be," Killeen said.
"You're not the only one," Dorian said. He held his hands up before her face. "Look! Scullery-maid hands!"
Killeen laughed. For all his posturing, Dorian had worked as hard as anyone and harder than most since they'd arrived, despite his repeated declarations that he was only lending a hand in the hope that eventually Skyhold would have a decent bath-house. She had even grown used to his mockery, given that he seemed to apply it even-handedly to everyone who crossed his path. "What are you doing here? Couldn't find anyone to peel your grapes?"
"No. I don't suppose you'd be a darling and volunteer? I have a delightful outfit for you and everything." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "It has feathers."
"Not a chance," Killeen said, and grinned when he gave a theatrical pout.
"The hardship, the deprivation — who would have thought a fight to the death against darkspawn magisters from the dawn of time would involve this many sacrifices?" He turned to look down the stairs. "Actually I was looking for the Commander. Would you believe I managed to find a chess set? Now all I need is a decent opponent. Under the circumstances, however, I will settle for our dear Commander. At least I'll have something pretty to look at while I thrash him. I wonder what he and our Inquisitor are saying that has them both so serious."
"Darkspawn magister from the dawn of time?" Killeen suggested.
Dorian shook his head sadly. "You really must do better, my lovely Lady Lieutenant. You'll never start a decent rumour at this rate."
Alarmed, Killeen grabbed his arm. "Pavus. No rumours about Cullen and the Inquisitor."
His eyebrows went up. "Why-ever not? The ranks love a bit of romance. It'd be marvellous for morale."
"Maybe, but it wouldn't be — it wouldn't be kind. To —" Him. "Either of them. All right?"
He paused, and Killeen had the uncomfortable feeling that he heard rather more than she said, and then threw up his hands. "Oh, as you like. I'll have to start one about Varric and Cassandra, instead."
Killeen gaped at him as, with a sunny smile, he bounded down the stairs as the Inquisitor went toward the stables, throwing one arm around Cullen's shoulders and proposing his chess match.
She followed more slowly, and Cullen turned toward her with relief and a remark to Dorian about too busy, as you can see.
"I thought you enjoyed chess," Killeen said after Dorian had left.
Cullen studied the reports, made a mark in the margin of one. "I do. I just can't help feeling that Pavus … well."
"Has designs upon your virtue?" Killeen suggested. You didn't live in barracks for years without realising that some men preferred men and some women preferred women, and while Dorian might flirt outrageously with anyone passing, his eyes lingered on men in quite a different way to the way he looked at women, however beautiful.
Cullen blushed, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Not to put too fine a point on it, yes."
Killeen glanced around. No-one in earshot. "Just tell him your heart belongs to another," she said, mercilessly crushing the sharp pang it gave her to say it.
"Well, that, uh. Seems like it would be a bit precipitous. Under current circumstances." He looked at her, the briefest glance. "Wouldn't it?"
"I think it's well overdue, frankly, under current circumstances," Killeen said, and Cullen's head came up, mouth open in shock.
"You - uh, you do?"
Killeen sighed. "I have eyes. I saw you, just now."
"You saw me," Cullen said a little blankly, and then his blush deepened. He rubbed the back of his neck again. "I see."
"You can't go around looking at a woman like a starving man looks at a ram haunch and expect me not to notice."
He smiled slightly, and shifted uncomfortably. "Foolish to think I could keep a secret from you, I suppose."
"So tell her worshipful Inquisitorialness."
Cullen shook his head. "I'd think I'd rather, uh. She wasn't aware of how I feel. It's hardly —"
"Say appropriate and I'll punch you, I swear it," Killeen said.
"There is such a thing as chain of command, Kill," Cullen said. "And the Inquisition needs both of us."
"Then have a secret affair," Killeen suggested, instead of what she wanted to say, which was You're right. It'd never work. Give up the idea. Get over her.
"That sounds so sordid," Cullen muttered.
"Private liaison, then."
"Well, I, um." He chewed his lip, glanced at her, glanced away. "I suppose I haven't wanted to …" Not looking at her, he went on awkwardly: "There's nothing more unpleasant than, ah … being on the receiving end of unwanted attention of that, um. Kind."
Killeen felt her own face flame. Her stomach knotted until she could taste bile at the back of her throat. Oh, sweet Maker, he knows. He knows and he's trying to tactfully tell me … He knows.
He knows.
Maker, let the earth open and swallow me up, let a stray stone from the battlements crack my skull, let me vanish from the face of the earth right this second.
He knows.
"Of course." Her voice must have sounded strange, although Killeen could hardly hear it past the roaring in her ears, because Cullen glanced up at her, suddenly frowning. She forced a smile, felt as if it must be a rictus. "Anything else, ser?"
"Kill?" he asked.
"Anything else, ser?"
He hesitated a moment longer, then shook his head. "Not right now. Run this down to Master Dennet and get back to the construction work."
She took the offered paper, and somehow, she wasn't sure how exactly, her fingers brushed his.
Killeen snatched her hand back, stammered something about right away, and fled.