Silly me, I forgot that FFN redacts URLs. Thanks for being constantly buggy and constantly down but always on task when it comes to eviscerating any mention of a URL, buddy.
So, please find me, isk4649, on Tumblr. You can find frequent updates on my new, WIP Tharin/Cullen AU fic set in contemporary Japan.
Without further ado, once more unto the breach, dear friends!
PART II: Summer
The little flecks of ember flying through the night air made Cullen think of his hometown, of his cozy little pond where only fireflies and solitude welcomed him.
Normally, the Commander preferred his own company, partly because he did not want to force his soldiers to socialize with him. Hanging around hoping for crumbs of friendship from those he was supposed to train and harden would have been pathetic. But since the breakup a month before, he started to linger around the campfire at night. He now found it next to impossible to spend long hours alone with his thoughts.
Yet, it did not mean that he desired to be an active participant in whatever gossip or ribald tale that was being swapped around the campfire. He was content to sit in silence and let the noise of people enjoying themselves cuddle up to him like a down comforter as he spaced out.
Indeed, Cullen could afford to be detached from reality for a few minutes before he headed to bed. To think about nothing, just welcome silence in his head. His eyes gradually lost focus and the fire in front of him blurred into a mass of bright colors dancing brokenly – red, orange, yellow, white. His ears closed down, conversations around him melting into indistinguishable notes of indiscriminate sounds.
Just him and his uninterrupted tranquility surrounded by the familiar warmth of the nugatory fireside chats.
Unfortunately for the Commander, summery Honnleath this was not, and a sharp gust drew him out of his blissful quietude. He shivered and drew his body close.
"Here, thought you could use something hot."
Cullen looked up to find a camping mug filled to the brim with elfroot tea hovering midair. Cassandra was already sipping from her own mug and the Commander felt a bizarre sense that he'd seen this happen before for some unknown reason.
When he accepted the tea and thanked her, the Seeker merely mumbled inaudibly and sat down next to him.
"We should've picked another place with a better climate as our base. It's the middle of Justinian and we are still huddled around a campfire."
The Commander snorted. It was rare to hear Cassandra reveal her opinion about anything other than the status of current missions, and he suspected it was because she wanted to be extra friendly. The rumor must have reached her ears.
And true to his expectation, he heard a question about his relationship with Tharin when Cassandra spoke next.
"I've heard… things. Is it true, about you and the Herald?"
Well, time to poke at the barely healed wound, Cullen supposed. It had been just shy of a month since the breakup. During that time, the Herald had been completely occupied with tracking down rebel mages and templars. While Tharin zipped across Thedas, rushing from Val Royeaux to Redcliffe, Cullen was comfortably perched at Haven, concentrating on getting the warriors ready.
The distance forced upon them meant the young man and the Commander could easily avoid what would have been overwrought conversations about what happened. Yet he knew he couldn't avoid them forever. Especially since the Seeker decided to ask him.
Cullen sipped from his mug in an effort to delay, but eventually answered her inquiry honestly. "It is true. But we've since parted ways." He was not sure what Cassandra wanted to hear, and so hesitated before adding, "I give you my word: it will not affect my work, nor will it make me fall back on lyrium."
The Seeker's face contorted. She looked… concerned. "Cullen, I have no doubt that your work will continue to be excellent and that you will overcome lyrium. I only wanted to make sure that you were happy, but… it seems I've come too late."
"So you didn't hear it from Leliana?"
Her worried expression now showed a streak of confusion. "How does she know?"
It was an absurd question. They were talking about Leliana, the Nightingale of the Imperial Court, the Left Hand of the Divine, and easily the most informed person alive. "How would she not know?"
One side of the woman's lips curled up slightly in muted amusement. "Fair point." Her face returned to its normal somber expression soon after as she started again. "I will not ask what happened. I just want to make sure you are all right."
"What do you care?" Cullen regretted sounding harsher than he had intended, but it did mirror his thoughts. These days it was hard for the Commander to believe that anyone could spare a thought for his welfare. Not when he proved himself to be so utterly incapable of paying back kindness and genuine affection with anything other than a heartbreak. When he turned to check Cassandra's reaction, he was surprised to see the Seeker flushed.
"Because… you are important to me."
"Cassandra…"
"I was glad you had someone you can talk to. I've heard enough witness accounts and read enough reports to know you've experienced many difficulties in the Order and… It made sense to me that you two would find each other."
Cullen sniffed, but hoped belatedly he did not sound impudent. "Are you saying the Herald and I were fated to be together?"
Cassandra frowned and shook her head unhurriedly. "Don't be glib. The Herald is a compassionate man and a good listener. And he understands firsthand the sacrifices one pays to be part of the templars. I only meant it would be natural for you to be drawn to him."
"Well, it doesn't matter now. I've hashed everything." This was the first instance Cullen actually voiced his thoughts on how the courtship ended before it even began. To be more precise, how the courtship was ended by him. His own voice sounded foreign.
The Seeker, sweet and caring when she wanted to be, pushed on gently. "Tell me. Why do you think you've messed it up?"
"There really isn't much to tell. Suffice it to say I threw away the most precious gift I've been given in my entire life because… Because I was afraid and because I have obligations."
The woman seemed to be immersed in her thoughts until she looked to Cullen. "Were you afraid because the Herald is a man and you're also a… man?"
"No, Cassandra, it's not that." Despite his confident answer, an unshakeable doubt sat heavy in the guts. "At least I thought I wasn't bothered by that aspect of our courtship."
Maybe he did have some reservations. After all, it was the first thought he had when the Spymaster asked him to break up. And out of all the possible excuses he could have given, he chose to pretend to be repulsed by their relationship when he was following through with it.
Maybe Cullen had actually convinced himself that the world would look down on him and brand him as a deviant for being with someone of the same gender.
"Then I don't understand. What's the problem?" The Seeker seemed to deflate as she quietly added, "Apologies. Here I am pushing you for more details when I said I wouldn't."
The Commander was feeling suddenly fatigued. He sighed and fixed his gaze on the vortex of cloudy liquid in his mug. Throw in some magically conjured fluorescent lights and it would be an exact replica of the Breach. "I've been told that my… fraternizing with the Herald was getting in the way of the Inquisition's mission. So, I ended it."
Looking aghast, Cassandra exclaimed, "Who told you that?"
"It's not important."
"Fine. Do you still have feelings for the Herald?"
The Commander could not lie, even though he wanted to. "Yes."
"Do you… love him?"
The dreaded word brought the rapid firing of questions and answers to an abrupt halt. Cullen was not sure of anything anymore. He thought he was sure in his feelings for Tharin, but was he ever in love if he could end everything so easily? It was definitely not helpful that he had no other relevant experiences to compare it to. Life's uncertainty, as always, remained infuriatingly impregnable.
The Seeker's reflective voice cut through the silence. "You must go to him."
In spite of the seemingly endless sequence of tough questions parading through his head, the way she said it made Cullen chuckle. He turned away from his mug and looked at Cassandra's olive brown eyes. They were heavy with unbridled sincerity. "I didn't know you were a hopeless romantic, Seeker."
Cassandra's face dropped and she sputtered. Most unlikely of her, indeed. "T-that's outrageous. I-I… I can think whatever I want without being accused of that." The woman groaned exasperatedly and rested her chin on the fist of her right hand. Then she pouted.
There was an attractive quality to an annoyed Cassandra. Cullen watched her silently as the woman looked away in quiet resentment. Why hadn't he ever noticed how handsome she was before? In another life, in which he was not a templar and she was not a Seeker, they could have been together. In another life, he would not have to hold his breaking heart together with all his might.
In another life, the world would not be ending. And Tharin could be happy with his mage love.
Cullen conceded without making a further fuss, "You are not a romantic. I am sorry I accused you of being one."
Still facing away, the Seeker curtly replied, "Thank you."
With the corners of his lips upturned in a strangely wistful longing, Cullen thought about what drove him here. It was fear.
His fear for Tharin's future and the Inquisition's survival was real, Cullen could not deny it. In fact, that fear was persuasive enough to lead him down the path of loss and heartache.
Now that he could step back and think more critically, however, he could see that both options came with their own pros and cons. He wanted to make the right choice, but which was it?
"I realize it doesn't reflect very well on me, but I keep going back and forth. Sometimes I think I've made the worst mistake by breaking the Herald's heart, but other times I feel like I made the right call. I can't face him without being sure of myself."
After a thoughtful pause, Cassandra lifted her head and spoke like she was talking to herself, "It's better to have tried and regret than regret for not having tried." It was a clichéd saying and he would have cringed at the banal sentimentality, but at this moment Cullen felt like it opened up a whole new world of possibilities.
Leliana's logic was flawed. He was not Kyr and Tharin was not the same rookie templar from the Hasmal Circle; Leliana and Cullen were not the same, and Tharin was not the Warden. He also wanted to trust the young man to strike a balance between their courtship and the needs of the Inquisition. It would undoubtedly be difficult, he refused to fool himself, but not impossible. And he would be there to help, every step of the way.
The real question was, would Tharin even be willing to give him another chance?
When they broke up, Cullen had made sure Tharin would never want him back. He called what they had done nauseating and called the young man repulsive. Cullen of course meant none of it, but he was smart enough to recognize that it would be a titan task to convince Tharin of that.
"Do you think I could repair the damage still?" The Commander hated that his voice sounded frail as he asked the question.
Blithely unaware of how the two men dissolved their relationship, the Seeker simply said, "I say you don't know until you try. The Herald is coming back from Redcliffe tomorrow. Talk to him then." Mysteriously, her optimism buoyed Cullen's hope.
Cassandra waited before adding dreamily, "We don't get many chances at romance in our lives, more so when you consider how many loves go unrequited. If you still have feelings for him and if there is even an infinitesimal possibility for you to win back his affection, then it's your duty to try. Love is such a magnificent thing, Cullen, and we need more of it, not less, in these trying times. I'd hate to see you let it go without a fight."
No matter what the Seeker thought of herself, she was a romantic. Cullen decided to reveal a few choice details as a thanks. "This was before I… well, just… before. The Herald said he likes me and is serious about us. He then ordered me to call him only by his name when we are alone." Telling her was more humiliating than he'd predicted, but he soldiered on.
Cassandra sighed dramatically. "Andraste preserve me… You better not be doubting how he feels about you." The Commander just chuckled and left it at that.
While the heat from the mug dissipated into the night, Cullen pushed back all the niggling thoughts and made up his mind. His heart fluttered at the conclusion reached. He threw the leftover tea into the fire and handed the mug back to Cassandra. "Thanks for the tea and the advice." He promptly stood up and turned to leave.
"You're welcome. Where are you going?"
"Back to my tent. I would rather fret about tomorrow in the comfort of my own cot."
The Seeker's fierce eyes arched in a smile. In a soft voice she said her goodnight.
"Sleep well, Commander."
Among the tall stacks of books on his desk was The Dialectics, slowly gathering dust on the exposed corners. Cullen was thankful that he had not gotten around to moving all of his library into the cabin.
He opened the pages to a chapter on literary Elvish phrases and found tissue papers within. Pressed between those delicate lavender-colored sheets was the plum blossom. It wasn't the same one Tharin pulled out of his hair as they walked hand in hand, but it nevertheless reminded him of the young man. He had picked it up from the very spot after the breakup to memorialize their time together, to make sure that his heart continued to rend as a punishment to himself.
Cullen had expected to feel melancholic at its sight but only felt unrestrained anticipation. After staring at the flower and letting his heartbeats echo, he carefully closed the book and took a deep breath.
It would have been too nerve-racking to try talking to Tharin right after his return. So, Cullen sat down and wrote a short note asking the young man for a word in private.
If only every social interaction could be in epistolary form. Since he picked up reading in Kirkwall, writing had also become a familiar tool in expressing himself, though he rarely bothered. He knew he would be able to convey his thoughts and feelings to Tharin much better in a letter, but this, fixing what he had broken so wantonly, needed to be done in person.
The sky was clear and blue, not a single cloud in sight. Cullen hoped this was a good omen.
Having received a messenger raven from the Herald last evening informing them of the time of arrival, the advisors gathered at the gate at noon. Within several minutes they could see five figures on horseback approaching Haven on the horizon: the Herald, Blackwall, Varric, Solas, and another person. A mage from the look of a staff slung on his back, and an attractive-looking man at that.
He must have said something funny because Tharin and Varric were visibly guffawing. The laughter was still lingering in the air as the party dismounted and approached the welcoming committee. Cullen noticed how Tharin met the gazes from Leliana and Josephine but went out of the way to avoid his. It stung yet did not surprise him.
The young man turned to see if the mage was ready for introductions. Up close, Cullen thought this stranger was a sight to behold. His gait was confident and sure, his handsome face was accentuated by a meticulously groomed mustache, and his skin was shiny and smooth like the golden sand of the Western Approach.
The mage's jet-black hair, which closely resembled Tharin's in shade, was coiffed into a neat yet daring style so completely unlike Tharin's. His robe was a fascinating combination of fine needlework and gems overlaid on clean spaces of wide fabrics.
He looked nothing like anyone at Haven and it was glorious. He was a creature that needed to be seen, a unique species unto himself. And as he thought these florid thoughts, Cullen was surprised at how alien he felt about himself. The last time he observed someone this closely was when he first met the Herald.
"Everyone, meet Dorian. He's informed us of a group called the Venatori and–"
The swarthy man looked at the Herald with disapproving eyes and tut-tutted. "First impressions are so important, and I would hate mine to be marred by the talk of those imbeciles. Let us wait for the proper moment to horrify them with my tale of doom and gloom, shall we?"
Tharin's cheeks turned even redder. The hulking warrior was a putty in the mage's hands. "Right. Dorian is here to help us convince the Redcliffe mages to join us."
The man bowed gracefully. "Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. The Herald and I already had this discussion, but no, I am not a magister. You can call me Altus, however, if you are ever in a particularly playful mood," said the mage in a cut-glass accent. Cullen had never met anyone from Tevinter, but the intonation sounded pleasant to his ears.
When Josephine began to introduce herself in that animated tone of hers, Cullen noticed how the Herald was looking at Dorian like a snot-nosed child enraptured by a shiny new toy on the other side of the shop window. He could also see how Dorian kept stealing glances at the Herald, his eyes twinkling each time.
The Commander would be the first to admit that he was oblivious to most things, but he was observant when it concerned Tharin. It was clear that, alas, he was too late.
Cullen stiffly greeted the mage as he crumpled up the note into a tiny ball in his fist.
End Notes:
Yes, Cullen is slightly enamored by Dorian, just a tiny bit. And yes, he is jealous of him. Both of these can be true. Because I said so.
Next up, a certain kind of future.
Your thoughts, feedback, and critiques are always welcome! Thank you for reading!