Cullen became increasingly lost in his thoughts. Luckily, she had left for the Hinterlands over a month ago, but the Herald remained on his mind. He threw himself into his work. Though usually a reliable tactic for avoiding things, it was failing him. His mind constantly wandered back to her. He was terrible to believe she was a personal punishment delivered to him. He knew he was terrible. Yet, still…she was a reminder of his past. Everything he ever did to redeem himself wouldn't matter. He could not fix what he had done. He could not go back and protect her or anyone else he had failed.
Just as she had asserted during his failed apology, he found himself afraid of her. It was prompted not only by the unpleasant encounter they shared near the training grounds. The updates from the Hinterlands were flooding in. Cassandra praised her abilities in combat in nearly every report. Cassandra. When was the last time that happened?
As he gathered with Leliana and Josephine in the war room, they argued and debated the direction of the Inquisition. Josephine managed some of the disagreements well enough. However, she often felt compelled to jump in and argue against Leliana and Cullen's tendency toward the more violent routes. They eventually arrived at a shaky consensus. These circular arguments had become a common occurrence of the past several weeks.
"You've read the reports?' Leliana asked. "I'm impressed with our Herald. It will be good to discuss this with her in person."
Josephine nodded eagerly. "I have read them. She has caused quite a stir across the Hinterlands. She's returning today, yes?"
Cullen nearly jumped. A new report he hadn't gotten to yet? One he had only just skimmed? He hadn't seen any return date. He hadn't prepared for her return. He wasn't sure how he could, anyhow… Maybe he'd find a nice place to hide and lock the doors. Maker's breath.
"Yes, today or tomorrow, according to Cassandra," Leliana said. "Letters are pouring in from all corners. Congratulations, pledges of loyalty, conversions to Andraste. Mother Giselle returned with praise of her own." Then, she moved her eyes dangerously in Cullen's direction. He pretended he had found something of great interest on a report in front of him. Leliana moved a step closer to the table. "Her popularity is...unexpected, considering her open disdain for the Inquisition. She became physically ill when the time came to work with us. I was so sure that once out of Haven, she would run. Wouldn't you agree, Commander? It is strange, no?"
Cullen's face turned hot. He knew Leliana was baiting him. She was staring right at him. He could feel it. She had to know all there was to know about the Herald by now, including their connection. Even with Kirkwall in ruin, Leliana seemed to always have her ways. He respected her, coming to a reluctant appreciation of her methods and work ethic. She unsettled him, though. No secrets. No lies. She'd always know.
He cleared his throat. He hoped to sound more confident than he felt. "All of this...acclaim is premature until we seal the Breach. We barely have enough soldiers to protect Haven and -"
"Commander, smile," Josephine said brightly. "We could've been put in a much more difficult position. Yet, we have been gifted a Herald with an aptitude for much more than we expected."
He frowned, shifting his eyes between the two women. Leliana was still watching him intently, while Josephine had a grin stretched across her face. "Yes, she has much - She... is very - Yes, well," he said, stumbling over each attempt, "I have much to do. New recruits come in nearly every day. They'll likely trip and fall on their own swords if I leave them alone too long." He moved towards the door.
"Oh, I'm sure Ser Rylen can manage them a short while longer," Leliana said. "Walk with me, Commander?" It was less of a question and more of a demand.
"As you wish." He grumbled a bit, shuffling his feet on his way to the door. Leliana waved a farewell to Josephine. Cullen halfheartedly did the same. The disquiet loomed over him, hand shaking as he brought it back down to his side.
In silence, Leliana led him down into the dungeons beneath the Chantry. The place was long empty and unused, except during the Herald's imprisonment. Strange how recently it was that she was a prisoner here. Maker, if only he had gone to see her once. He would've known her face. He would've had the others warn her. Would things have gone any differently? Perhaps not.
The slight sound of dripping water hitting the cracked stone floor gave him something to focus on besides Leliana's intense gaze. He knew what she wanted to speak about. It was all he could think about. The Herald's face was younger, freckled and soft. She floated through his head, shifting into the current form of her face. She seemed unassailable. Her face was vicious and bewitching. An impossible amount of rage filled her dark eyes like flames.
She could probably burn everyone in Haven alive with a flick of the wrist. His mind turned to thoughts of the Herald becoming possessed. An abomination as the Herald of Andraste. The havoc a thing like that could wreak within Haven. His head began to hurt. There was a deep want within him that never seemed to go away. And when he remembered and thought like this… He just preferred not to remember.
Everything came crashing back when he saw her in that room. So aloof and so much pride. She had to be coerced to do the Harrowing. She was talented, too talented. They feared her. He feared her. She wasn't afraid, but she was defiant. It wasn't uncommon, though he found the threat of Tranquility often forced the mages to settle in. It was awfully rare for a mage to take the Rite of Tranquility willingly.
He remembered the reports from the other templars so clearly. Being Knight-Captain meant fewer wards and apostate operations, which he had preferred after the events at Kinloch. He remembered watching, judging, hating, hurting. Killing. He suddenly worried what that coercion looked like. She did end up having her Harrowing before she managed to escape, if he remembered correctly. He cursed himself for not bothering to think more thoroughly on such things before.
Leliana was watching him, not saying a word. He forced himself into the present with a harsh laugh. "You didn't bring me down here to kill me, did you?" he asked. "I've wondered when you might get around to it."
"Not today, Commander," she said. She leaned against the wall between two prison cells. He felt uncomfortable alone down here with her. Her eyes peered at him from beneath her hood, piercing his attempts to steady himself. "I'm sure you know what I'm curious about."
"I have no doubt you've gathered all the answers you need," he said. "I'm not interested in gossiping about the past. It is irrelevant and a waste of time."
Even as he said it though, he heard his voice waver. They weren't irrelevant events. Not really. He dismissed their importance, even in his own head. He ignored as much as he could from his past in order to live with himself. If the Herald heard that dismissal, though, what would she think of him?
Leliana quirked an eyebrow. "I was present at the council. Josephine begs me for more information incessantly, but I've refused her for the time being. So indulge me, Commander. I'm sure you'd make an excellent gossip if you'd only try."
"I'm unsure if it is my story to share." He paused. He didn't know which details to share with her. She knew better than most the terrible things he had done, though. She had seen them with her own eyes. She had seen him pathetic and broken, begging the Hero of Fereldan to do something unthinkable. He chose his words carefully."I assume you are aware the Herald was in a circle for some time?"
Leliana nodded. He began to distance his eyes from her and paced. "Yes, I am aware. Though, she was at the Conclave on a mission for her clan. She clearly escaped the Circle." He could tell she had put it together already, but was waiting for him to say more. That word - escaped. He steadied himself against the wall with one arm, pausing his movement.
"Yes, she escaped Kirkwall," he said in a low voice. "I didn't remember her name at first. I didn't remember but...her face. Leliana, I know it. I was there. She made it out alive, but she was there for...I don't know. Maybe five years? Six? The fighting grew exponentially in the Circle, making way for many to flee. But the blood had been pooling in the Gallows for a long time. Too long. Kirkwall was a mess. Nobody left it unscathed." He paused, breathing deeply. He still couldn't bring himself to look at Leliana. "You saw me at Kinloch. I'm - I don't want that to be...the Herald is..."
"I know," she said. She pressed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her. Her gaze was soft in a rare way, only making an appearance when they spoke of Justinia or the Hero of Ferelden. Gentle and kind, she looked...approachable? "Thank you for the information, Commander. It is most helpful."
She dropped her hand. He regained his composure with some difficulty. He wondered what she meant by 'most helpful'. Had he said anything she didn't already know? Always scheming. His head throbbed. His body felt so weak without it. He felt pathetic.
She glanced behind to look at him again before making her way up the stairs. "And Commander? Please, take care of yourself."
He sighed. When he heard the distant echo of the door closing, he pressed his forehead against the cold, stone wall. It didn't stop the throbbing, but it cooled the building heat. There was too much to do to be caught up in all of this.
He wasn't sure what to do to prepare for the Herald's arrival. The headache made him irritated, worsening with his heightened anxiety. Nobody could see him in this way. He had to be better. He rolled his shoulders back and headed into the Chantry hall. Loud noise was erupting from beyond the doors of the Chantry. He nearly ran into Josephine who seemed to be moving in the same direction.
He shook his head. "I'll handle it." She thanked him, moving back to her office with haste.
Maker's breath. Could he handle it? His head was pounding. He ignored it and threw open the Chantry doors. A crowd had gathered in front of the Chantry. The noise bashed against the feeling that had built around his temples. Surrounded by the large crowd, the heat rose in his body and sweat began to drip down his face. He focused his attention on the work ahead of him.
"Your kind killed the Most Holy!" someone shouted.
"Lies - your kind let her die!" another yelled. Cullen pushed people aside. Some noticed him and moved out of his way. Many quieted as they saw him move through the crowd.
"Shut your mouth mage!"
He made his way to the front. A mage and an ex-templar stood across from one another, looking to be on the verge of a violent confrontation. Cullen moved in-between them. "Hey!" he shouted, louder than he thought his ill body would allow. The ex-templar had his hand reaching backwards, perhaps to draw his sword. He immediately moved it into a salute. Cullen glared at him.
"Knight-Captain!"
"That is not my title," Cullen growled, firmly gesturing to both groups as he spoke. "We are not templars any longer. We are all part of the Inquisition!"
From the crowd, a familiar face came strutting forward. Cullen groaned. He placed his hands on his hips. Whatever Chancellor Roderick had to say, it had to be foolish, tiresome, or, much more likely, both. "And what does that mean, exactly?" the Chancellor asked.
"Back already, Chancellor? Haven't you done enough?" Cullen said listlessly.
"I'm curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its "Herald" will restore order as you've promised," he replied.
His sense of smugness made Cullen groan all over again. He wanted to lay out the reports from the Hinterlands and force the man to read them. The Herald had brought plenty of stability. Good seemed to just shine from her, leaking into all the broken places of the Hinterlands. He knew the Chancellor was beyond reason, though. He spouted off his tired beliefs and ideals with glee, even when nobody was listening.
"Of course you are," Cullen said with a sigh. He looked around to the group still standing around the Chantry. "Back to your duties, all of you." They quickly dispersed, leaving just him and Roderick.
Except, one remained. He moved a glare to them. Apparently the first order wasn't enough. Then, he took her in all at once. The Herald had returned. His gaze softened. He couldn't read her expression, so he proceeded to study the rest of her. All of her clothing was covered in dirt and dried blood. He couldn't bring himself to look away, engulfed in her intensity. The sun shined on her, making the color of her hair more red than dark brown. Her nose and cheeks were pink from the cold. The Herald of Andraste. Power emanated from her. He felt his fear of her grow. He thought it only reasonable considering she looked like that.
She stopped near him. Definitely closer than they had ever been before. He was keenly aware of that. She frowned, shifting her eyes from Roderick to Cullen. She eventually landed on Cullen. He was surprised to find her not looking away immediately. "What was that?" she asked.
He averted his gaze. He rubbed the back of his neck. Tension had built all over. The longing for the lyrium pressed at his temples and burned deep in his gut. Words. It's time for words now. "It is of no real surprise, Herald, but it seems mages and templars are blaming each other for the Divine's death. They were already -"
"Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order," Roderick cut in.
Cullen chuckled. "Who, you? Random clerics who weren't important enough to be at the Conclave?"
"The rebel Inquisition and it's so-called "Herald of Andraste"? I think not." The Chancellor let out a petulant huff and scowled at the Herald.
"I don't know. The Inquisition seems about as functional as any young family," she said. Cullen let his eyes drift to her. The corners of her lips had turned slightly, while she watched the Chancellor writhe. "Moreover, if you have the time, I have some questions. I've had a long journey, but you'll find my curiosity is quite insatiable. Let's begin with: What has the Chantry done about the Breach? Next, what have you personally done for the refugees? Any Chantry coordinated efforts? I truly am interested."
Cullen's grin spread widely across his face. He expected silence, and if not, denial of any true connection to them at all. He read the reports, but Cassandra wasn't exactly a stickler for the details. What happened in the Hinterlands? Perhaps he was reading too much into it. She would never speak to him alone. She feared him, or maybe simply just hated him. He'd never be able to properly apologize.
"How many families are on the verge of splitting into open warfare with themselves?" Roderick asked. The way the Chancellor said it like he believed he had won that round pushed Cullen to keep provoking him further.
"Yes, because that would never happen to the Chantry," Cullen said, voice drenched in sarcasm.
The Chancellor continued on with his ranting. Cullen had grown somewhat used to him in these past weeks, learning to drown out the man's caterwauling. "It should be clear this should all be left to a new Divine. You have riots within your very own walls," he said to Cullen, then faced his comments towards the Herald. "Andraste will guide us to the truth and to a new path. If you are innocent, the Chantry will establish it as so."
"Or will be happy to use someone as a scapegoat," Cullen said. Roderick sported an offended and surprised expression. This put Cullen in a smug mood. Aggravating the Chancellor had proven to be a rather fun diversion. He'd grown rather skilled at it, as well.
Roderick spat at Cullen angrily, "You think nobody cares about the truth? We all grieve Justinia's loss."
Cullen shook his head. "But you won't grieve if the Herald of Andraste is conveniently swept under a carpet."
"Remind me why you're allowing the Chancellor to stay?" the Herald asked. At first, he didn't even register that the question must be directed at him. She was actually looking up at him. Their eyes met and she didn't look away. She was still smiling, too...albeit a rather tight-lipped one.
"Clearly your templar knows where to draw the line." The word templar hung in the air and they both flinched at it.
Cullen sighed and crossed his arms. "He's toothless. There's no point turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth. The Chancellor's a good indicator of what to expect in Val Royeaux, however."
The Herald began to back away. She gave Cullen a smile again, but he could tell it was forced. "Well, let's hope we find a solution at Val Royeaux, and not a cathedral full of chancellors."
Cullen laughed. "The stuff of nightmares."
Her tight-lipped smile faded, pushing him to finally wipe his genuine one away. "I'll see you later, then," she said with a nod, completely disregarding the Chancellor. Cullen couldn't respond. She had already walked away. She moved swiftly through the camp, avoiding the reverence bestowed upon her and all possible conversation. Roderick was still talking, but Cullen wasn't listening. He just watched her.