Seated in the tent that functioned has his temporary office, Cullen poured over reports and messages. It was an exercise in futility at this point; he was too bleary eyed to make it more than a few words in on any given item. He was spent. But he shouldn't be, not yet. He needed to dig deep and push harder, to finish more. The day wasn't over yet and the Inquisition could not afford for him to stop working. He called for a page who appeared in the tent within moments. "Ser?"
"Have someone send my supper out to the camp, recruit." His eyes never left the papers in front of him, but he heard the page retreat immediately. Now, he thought that there had to be some way to sort this into what he could potentially accomplish by day's end and what would need a fresh start tomorrow. Thankfully while sorting this way he managed to find at least three documents that were irrelevant or redundant in some way. He tossed them away to the refuse pile with gratitude. Setting himself on the pile of things that seemed easiest to finish today, the ex-Templar was surprised to hear someone enter so soon after it seemed the page had left. Distractedly, he cleared a spot on the far corner of the desk for the tray. "Thank you, please leave it."
"No, I think that I will stay until I see you at least eat some of it." Cassandra's tone was indignant and slightly catty. He looked up to see that her expression was deeply displeased with him. Oh great, what did I forget to do for her? He sat up, feeling a bit sheepish.
"That won't be necessary, Lady Cassandra. I assure you I am capable of feeding myself." Cullen said.
"Are you?" She replied, the displeased expression firmly rooted in place. She walked purposefully over to his desk and set the tray directly in front of him, on top of his work. It was laden with at least double what he needed.
"This is too much, we're rationing supplies, I don't need thi-" He began before she interjected.
"Don't be silly, Commander." She grabbed a nearby stool and planted herself across the desk from him. "It is not all for you."
With a wry grin, he sat back with his arms crossed. "Thank you, Lady Cassandra, but I am afraid I do not have the time for dinner guests-"
"Nonsense." She interrupted again, completely ignoring his rejection. She grabbed a small dark bread roll and began to spread fruit preserves onto it. When she glared at him now, he understood that it had never really been a question. She had not been asking for an invitation.
With a slight chuckle, he conceded and started grabbing food from the tray. "To what do I owe the honor? Does something trouble you, Lady Cassandra?"
"Yes." She took a bite and chewed angrily (he didn't even know one could chew angrily) for a long moment. "For one, I do not wish you to continue addressing me as Lady Cassandra. I hear it enough from our Lady Ambassador and even Leliana. Seeker Cassandra if you must." Cullen felt mildly surprised but gave a small nod. She took this as her cue to continue.
"Also, you are not setting a good example to the Inquisition's followers." She said, staring at him intently. Sometimes, he swore her glare was at least as sharp as her sword.
"I am… Not sure what you mean, Seeker. I can assure you I am doing everything I can to the fullest extent of my abilities at present." It was impossible not to come across defensive, but he did try to keep his tone even and professional.
"That is the problem." She said, and he stopped chewing, waiting for her to continue. "You are… Applying too much of yourself. Spreading yourself too thin. You are going to burn yourself out at the pace you are working." Cullen was skeptical of this, knowing that he wasn't nearly doing enough. "I am afraid that if your subordinate officers try to follow your example, they will all burn out as well. There will be turnover, disorganization, needless mistakes. Deaths, potentially."
"Are you reprimanding me for… working too hard?" He asked, incredulous.
"Yes. I am." Cassandra's expression softened a bit now, it seemed maybe she had gotten past the part that had been hardest for her to say. "Commander, you do more than one person could be expected to do right now. You need to accept help and enlist more support staff; you are too vital to the Inquisition for us to lose you to burn out so quickly. This is… a large-scale war we are facing, not a skirmish."
"I know that, Seeker. I know what we could be facing ahead of us, and I know that I cannot afford to slack off." He had stopped eating entirely, digging in his proverbial heels in stubbornness.
"It is not slacking off to accept help. To eat and to sleep. Those are necessary things. The others need to see that you delegate, or they themselves will try to take on everything alone. Watching you, the Herald will try to do everything alone, as well. She looks to each of us as her examples. If she is going to take after any of us, I'm afraid right now that it would be you." Cassandra couldn't help herself from raising her voice again. She had also stopped eating, staring hard at him, trying to strongarm him into admitting she was right.
That notion gave him pause. He wouldn't ever have asked or expected any of his officers- let alone the Herald- to skip on sleep or meals to finish their goals sooner. It would only lead to unnecessary danger and simple mistakes. It could end up with the Herald in unnecessary danger, or dead. The idea made his stomach drop, deeply fearing anything that could take her away from them. The idea of losing her was too painful, and the sudden awareness of how strong that pain was had frightened him.
So, whose example would they follow? If Cassandra was right, they would all look to him. It made sense once he thought about it. He was one of the most experienced soldiers among the Inquisition and he was in a very visible leadership role. Perhaps Cassandra had something of a point. He resumed his meal as he turned this idea over a few times in his head. He examined it from many angles. There was quiet between them for a time.
"But what if it never feels like I have done enough? There is always more that needs me." He asked quietly, without meeting her gaze.
"It will have to be enough. You are the one who decides if you have done enough. No one else is judging the amount you do."
The food felt heavy in his stomach as he processed what she said. When had he ever felt like he had done enough? How did one challenge the feeling of constant inadequacy? There were so many times in his life when he had been in positions where he had not done enough. Kirkwall was a poignant, painful reminder. How could he convince himself now that he was enough for this Inquisition? He knew that he was not.
But, also, he was all they had. Cassandra had recruited him for this purpose. She must have seen something in him in Kirkwall that he did not quite believe of himself.
"Let me ask you, would you venture to tell the Herald that she is not doing enough?" Cassandra asked in a somewhat gentler tone.
"Of course not." He said quietly. Cassandra looked at him pointedly, as if he had proved her point.
The quiet settled between them again as they continued eating. The occasional messenger would step in to drop off scrolls before heading back out. He wrestled quite a bit with the physical restlessness and anxiety he felt to be taking so much time on a meal. It had probably been weeks that he had had food without also reading something, writing something, or discussing the Inquisition. It took considerable effort to stop himself from asking her about a recent report on Templar activity in the Hinterlands.
He looked to the Seeker, who had been closely watching him throughout. She appeared skeptical. "Will you at least try to take my advice?"
"I will, Lady Cassandra." She narrowed her eyes slightly, prompting him to correct himself, "Apologies, Seeker Cassandra. I will try."
She did not seem convinced as she stood and grabbed the empty tray. She nodded in farewell. "That is all we can ask."