Commander Cullen wasn't anticipating to cross paths with anyone at the Haven Chantry when he made his way there just before daybreak. Reciting the Canticle of Trials- well, parts of it, anyway- had been a part of his morning routine for so long that it felt like part of waking up or getting dressed. In the Inquisition, he had found that the earlier in the day he did this, the less likely he was to be interrupted on his way there. He had asked himself for the past few months whether leaving the Order had changed any aspects of his faith. So far, he had decided that his belief in the Chantry had faltered, not his belief in the Maker.

Maker, my enemies are abundant.

Many are those who rise up against me.

But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion,

Should they set themselves against me.

When he rounded the corner inside the Chantry to approach the small altar, he was surprised to find Varric Tethras already there. Varric was knelt on one knee, with his head bowed. Perhaps in prayer? Cullen approached and knelt in front of the altar as well. Out of respect he tried not to disrupt the dwarf and recited the chant under his breath. After several minutes passed, Cullen heard Varric stand and make his leave. The still air of the Chantry felt stifling today. He concluded his chant and made his way out of the Chantry into the early morning light.

It had snowed significantly overnight; the howling wind had been strong enough to blow it into deep drifts throughout Haven. The light of the early morning began to illuminate them, appearing like glittering dunes. Cullen stepped out and saw Varric leaning against the wall of the Chantry near the door. The Commander nodded to him and began his path back to the training camp. The crunching snow behind him announced he was not walking alone.

"So, Curly… How ya holdin' up?" Varric began, tone sounding both sarcastic and amused. He was jovial even at this hour? Fantastic.

Cullen slowed his gait just a bit, letting Varric catch up and walk alongside him. "Morning, Varric. Things are very busy- demanding. But I'd say it's going fine. We are getting more recruits every day. Some from the valley, some from farther away. It's encouraging that many people seem to want to do whatever they are capable of to support us."

"Well, that sounds like a great status report for your friends at the Big Table but sounds remarkably like avoiding the question." Varric said. "How are you doing with all this?"

"Me?" Cullen frowned, a brief pause before he continued. "Er-... I am also fine. How are you?"

Varric chuckled. They reached the fire pit where Varric usually camped and worked from. Varric took a seat on a stump that had been fashioned into a chair, and he gestured to the other seats nearby, inviting the Commander to join him. "Honestly? I have no idea. I think anyone who seems calm and comfortable right now is full of nug shit. None of us have any idea what's coming next. That's not a feeling that I'm in love with." He shrugged amicably. "Don't get me wrong, adventure can be great. But when you're faced with some potentially world-as-we-know-it-ending conflicts, it's hard to sing tavern songs and carry on."

Cullen paused, considering the offer to join Varric. His instinct was to head straight back and get an early start on his work for the day, but Cassandra's advice about overworking seemed to nag at him. Okay, camaraderie did have value, as did fully waking up before cracking at paperwork. He made his way to a taller stump and sat down. He leaned forward, elbows settling on his knees. "I suppose you could be right."

"Of course I am." Varric said, with a grin. Cullen gave a half-hearted chuckle at this before replying.

"I am… Constantly out of my element. I know that feeling completely out of place and lost is not unique among our organization right now… But it always sneaks up on me." He watched as Varric prodded at the low embers of his fire pit. "Whenever I see groups of people mingling, I immediately think that the Knight-Commander would be livid to see people slacking off. Then I remember that we're not in the Order. I'll see armor put on lazily or just wrong... Or backwards, and I must remember that these people are not soldiers. And when there are apostate mages around every corner…" He drifted off; his brow furrowed.

He wasn't sure how to put into words the uneasy feeling that he had to constantly fight. Refugee Mages, especially envoys with children, had been coming to Haven more and more as the weeks carried on. Word had spread that the elf at the forefront of the Inquisition was an apostate mage, and it had apparently encouraged a few followers to make their pilgrimage to Haven instead of Redcliffe.

"You see every danger that they represent?" Varric suggested. He threw a few pieces of dry wood and brush onto the embers, coaxing the fire back to life.

Cullen met Varric's gaze and then broke it again. His face contorted, unable to conceal his shame at his paranoia. "It's not without cause, Varric. We don't have many Templars. They are all at risk. We are at risk."

Varric seemed unphased. He shrugged. "Hawke never needed a Templar. It's not the only way for mages to exist, you know."

"But it's the only way I know how to exist." Cullen replied.

"Ah." Varric said, sitting back as he watched the fire slowly grow brighter and larger. "So do they need the Templars, or do you?"

Cullen frowned deeply as he thought about this surprisingly poignant question. For a long while, nothing was said between them. Cullen continued to watch the fire's progression. It was slow at first, but then it burned steady. Slowly, the sky above them changed hues as the sunrise approached. "Some of the mages have been raised and taught in Circles, they are aware of risks and perhaps they will be cautious enough. Many have passed their Harrowing. But-" He sighed. "What of the Herald? What of any mages who have only ever been apostates?"

"Like I said, Hawke didn't need a Templar. She wasn't raised in a Circle, either." Varric said. "The Herald, huh?" he paused for a while before continuing. "I'm not going to say that she is safe or that she is dangerous. We don't know her well enough to judge that, you know? But… that doesn't really matter."

Cullen looked up to Varric's face, doubt contorting his features. "It doesn't matter?"

"Nope. We need her, and she needs our support. Whatever she is… There's only one of her." Varric shrugged. "There's nothing comfortable about blind faith. But sometimes the faith comes first, and the believing comes later."

Cullen scoffed but didn't voice any of the thoughts that swirled in his head. Every day he felt the pull towards her well of power, he felt himself drawn to her and he had to remind himself to keep his distance. He feared the consequences if he became too familiar with her, let down his guard and slipped.

She was either the most powerful mage they had ever known, and responsible for the beginning of the end of the world… Or she was telling the truth, and willing to do what she could to help them stop it from ending. Possibly both. But Varric was probably right- it didn't matter which was true, right now. What mattered was their actions. Their support of her, and their faith in her. Could he manage that?

Begrudgingly, he nodded. "I suppose you could be right… again."

Varric grinned widely. "Of course I am."