Cullen Rutherford was shocked. The prisoner had saved them all.
More surprising was that she had saved them more than once. From what he gathered later, she had closed several of the smaller rifts scattered throughout the valley on her way to the Breach, battling through waves of demons to stop the chaos from spreading further. She'd saved a number of Cullen's own men when she closed the rift they were fighting against. And then she'd gone on to attempt to close the Breach.
He remembered the great crack of thunder that echoed through the valley when she did it; it had drawn Cullen and his soldiers' gazes skyward, where a great green bolt of lightning streaked upward to collide with the tear in the Veil. There was a blinding flash, and when he'd blinked away the afterglow, he'd seen a closed Breach, contained to its little hole in the sky.
Well, not so little. And it wasn't gone entirely. But it was a right sight better than the alternative: a steadily growing Breach that threatened to swallow the world.
Cullen was suspicious - naturally - of the prisoner, who had tried and ultimately failed to close the giant rift into the world of demons. Perhaps this was all a part of some master plan to finish what she had started at the Conclave. She was a mage, after all. Perhaps this was some elaborate ploy to encourage confidence in mages as one swooped in to save the day, or to bring justice to a world in which mages had suffered for so long. Cullen had seen it before, when that deranged apostate had blown up Kirkwall's chantry in the name of justice.
But what would the prisoner gain from killing hordes of her own people? It didn't make any sense.
Cullen saw the prisoner next when she was carried back to Haven on a litter, her breathing shallow and her skin pale. How she had survived was beyond him. But then, he thought, if she survived the Conclave, she can survive this, too. Still, the commander had seen enough death in his life to know that she was at its door. He wondered if she would recover. If she died, would that exonerate her? Would she be remembered as the hero who had tried to close the Breach? The mage who had sacrificed herself to save them all?
And what if she lived? Did that make her more or less likely to have been responsible for the explosion at the Conclave? Was she truly trying to help, or had her plans simply gone horribly wrong to land her at death's door?
The next few days were a blur. Cullen and his soldiers stayed busy, searching the ruins of the temple, carting the wounded to the healers, and burying the dead. It was difficult, grueling, solemn work, but here they were, doing their best to push through. He was proud of them.
At night, shadows hunted Cullen in his dreams. Glowing red eyes followed him through burning, crumbling halls that led to nowhere. Wicked laughter echoed, dead whispers in an empty hell. When he awoke, it was in a cold sweat, fear constricting his throat. He was grateful, in a way - what would his soldiers think if they heard their commander crying out in his sleep, startled into wakefulness by nightmares that plagued him ceaselessly?
On the third day after the Breach was sealed, Cullen awoke, trembling. He reached for a vial of lyrium before he could stop himself, desperate for the sense of control it would bring. His abilities stretched and yawned as the lyrium entered his system, as though sensing their source and responding to the call. It reminded him that he was no longer young and weak, trapped in Kinloch Hold, a slave to the whims of blood mages and demons.
He scrubbed a hand over his face roughly, as though trying to wipe away all remnants of the dreams. For what felt like the hundredth time, he debated whether he was as free as he thought he was. Whether any of them were as free as they thought they were. What if the prisoner was responsible for the Conclave? If she was that powerful, wasn't it possible that she held them all in thrall?
But how could she, when she had been comatose for days? Even a powerful mage couldn't enslave an entire village while unconscious. Right?
Besides, if he were bound by her magic, why would he question it? He'd seen the abilities of demons and blood mages, knew that they could weave a web of lies so complex and so detailed that their victim wanted to believe it was true. If she really was behind the Conclave, wouldn't she do everything she could to deter them all from questioning her heroic rise to power?
No, Kirana Trevelyan had to be innocent. Cullen was sure of it.
Mostly.
The lyrium did its work, the surge of his abilities reassuring in the cold pre-dawn light. It had become a daily ritual: waking in terror, convincing himself that the darkness of his dreams was long-since past, reaching for lyrium to calm his nerves. He hated that reliance on the drug, that need for its calming influence, but he had yet to free himself from its yoke. Maybe one day, he kept telling himself, promising that he would stop, that he would break the habit, that he didn't need it or the abilities it provided. He could stop any time he wanted, he reasoned, but it didn't make sense while the sky was torn in two and danger lurked at every turn - no, he would give it up after.
After the Breach was sealed, after the danger had passed, after… well, just after.
The sounds of Haven waking came on the morning breeze, muffled by the walls of his tent. The village stirred, coming to life as the sun rose in the east. And, like the sun, the commander rose, shaking away any lingering tremors, tamping down any remaining panicked thoughts. It would not do for those under his command to see him so shaken, nor would he want to show such weakness before the Right and Left Hands of the Divine. He must be the unbreakable sword and the unyielding shield of the Inquisition.
It had been three days since the mage had managed - just barely - to close the giant rift that had grown from the Breach. In so doing, she had nearly died; she still might die. No one knew what would happen to her now, having never encountered this kind of magic before. Their apothecary, Adan, was pessimistic about her chances.
Solas, the apostate, seemed sure that she would wake eventually. The elven mage seemed to know a great deal about a great many things, which made Cullen suspicious. He made a mental note to ask Leliana what she had uncovered. The spymaster had a frightful amount of information about them all, and Cullen was certain she would have looked into Solas.
That his suspicions centered on the only two mages in the village was coincidence. It wasn't that Cullen hated mages; on the contrary, he wanted to believe that they could be trusted. But he had wanted that before. Instead, all too often, he had encountered power-hungry mages who wanted nothing more than to see the rest of the world burn in penance for the injustice of the Circles. He could not afford to let his guard down now, not when there was so much at stake. The Chantry had fallen; the mages and templars had both rebelled. There was a vacuum of power in Thedas, and there was no one left to fill the void.
Cullen dressed for the day in a simple, well-worn tunic, warm breeches, and comfortable boots. Over it all, he donned his armor. Despite the apparent safety of the quaint mountain village in the wake of the Conclave, Cullen never went without his armor. The village was all but defenseless. If the two mages were innocent, then their true enemy was somewhere outside Haven's walls. He could not afford to be careless when they could be attacked at any moment. With his sword buckled in place at his hip, Cullen pulled on a pair of gloves and ducked through the tent flap. He was due in the chantry soon to meet with Cassandra and Leliana.
The village itself was small, with only a handful of cabins for permanent occupants. There was a tavern and a chantry, but otherwise, Haven was little more than a collection of outbuildings. It must have been quiet and peaceful at some point, but that was hard to imagine now. Ever since the Conclave, the vast majority of space had been taken up by makeshift tents and displaced people. Civilians were protected by wooden fortifications and a stone gate, while soldiers and soldiers-in-training camped in the nearby fields.
Although it was still quite early, throngs of people gathered throughout the village, milling about with seemingly no purpose. Most of them lingered among the cabins near the gate, as close as they could get to where they all knew the prisoner lay, recovering or dying. They weren't really sure which. They whispered and watched, their fear and hatred replaced with curiosity and admiration.
Cullen shook his head as he passed. He still wasn't sure that their suspicion should be so easily replaced with awe.
The chantry was a large stone building nestled into the mountainside, towering above the surrounding village. Its roof was covered with carefully carved wood. Banners, mounted on poles atop the roof, snapped in the wind, gold heraldry on a field of red. Both the stone and woodwork included intricate designs; the architecture was exquisite, and he had found himself admiring the little details of the building more than once.
Inside the chantry, hundreds of candles burned. They were clustered around the tall pillars that lined the room, lending their strength to the scant light provided by the torches on the walls. It was a strangely ethereal room, though Cullen supposed they intended it that way. He passed through it slowly, loathe to disturb the stillness. But as he walked on, passing stacked barrels and carved stone, he heard muffled shouting.
"Have you gone completely mad?" Cullen rolled his eyes; the voice belonged to Chancellor Roderick. The man could not be more pretentious if he tried. His grandstanding was particularly irritating, and he sounded like he was in full form today. "She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!" Cullen's lip curled. He might actually dislike Chancellor Roderick more than he disliked their prisoner.
Actually, that wasn't fair. The commander didn't dislike the mage. Despite Cullen's lingering doubts about her, he was not calling for her execution. He didn't even particularly want her carted off to await trial in Val Royeaux. If she was innocent, she would be of far more use here; if she was guilty, he would rather be able to keep an eye on her until she made her move.
Cullen entered the room, nodding briefly to Cassandra as he took up a post in the corner. He was here to listen and observe, not to be drawn into the argument. And, Maker, was it an argument. They went around in circles, shouting one another down over and was a waste of time. They could repeat themselves until they were blue in the face, but neither side would change their opinion. It would take action, not words, to sway the chancellor - if he could be swayed.
In Cullen's experience, some people were so determined to be right that they would ignore all evidence to the contrary. He'd once been one of those people.
Roderick vehemently believe in the prisoner's guilt. Cassandra passionately defended her innocence. The problem was that no one knew the truth.
Cullen was inclined to take Cassandra's side, personally. As a Seeker of Truth, she had unique abilities that would make it difficult for a mage to manipulate her. Both mages and templars were helpless before Cassandra's ability to set the lyrium in a person's blood aflame. If she trusted the mage, that went a long way towards easing Cullen's mind.
Then Kirana Trevelyan walked into the room.
Cullen appraised her silently. Although she was awake, which argued that she was perhaps not dying, she looked unhealthy. Her skin was sallow and pale, and dark circles stood out under sunken green eyes. She wore her auburn hair in a neat braid coiled at the base of her neck, but its color was dull, and the tendrils that had escaped to frame her face looked brittle and lifeless. The clothes she wore were ill-fitting: a long-sleeved grey tunic, dark grey leggings, black boots, and a dark leather overcoat. It was clear that they had been borrowed from someone larger than the mage.
Roderick, the pompous old fool that he was, pointed at the mage, furious. "Chain her," he ordered the two soldiers stationed by the door. "I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial."
Cullen's jaw clenched. Who was this glorified clerk to give his soldiers orders? To try to remove their prisoner (savior?) against their wishes?
Cassandra flapped a dismissive hand. "Disregard that, and leave us."
The two soldiers, who had not moved a muscle for Roderick, saluted Cassandra, fist to heart, and departed, closing the door behind them.
Roderick rounded on Cassandra. "You walk a dangerous line, Seeker."
"The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat," she reminded him. Her eyes were steely with resolve. "I will not ignore it."
The mage glared at Roderick. "I did everything I could to close the breach. It almost killed me."
Well, at least she was willing to stand up for herself. It wasn't what he'd expected of her; as a noblewoman and a Circle mage, he'd have expected her to be quiet and meek. But she was going to need that strength.
And very thick skin.
"Yet you live," Roderick sneered. "A convenient result, insofar as you're concerned."
The mage scowled, but before she could respond, Cassandra said, "Have a care, Chancellor. The Breach is not the only threat we face."
"Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave," Leliana agreed. "Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others." Her eyes flickered to Roderick's face. "Or have allies who yet live."
"I am a suspect?" Roderick spluttered, outraged by the implication. Cullen could have laughed at the look on the man's face. Somehow, he managed to keep his face carefully neutral.
"You, and many others," replied Leliana, unbothered in the face of Roderick's blustering.
"But not the prisoner!" he exclaimed, astounded.
"I heard the voices in the temple," Cassandra said firmly. "The Divine called to her for help."
Roderick stared. "So her survival, that thing on her hand - all a coincidence?"
The Seeker shook her head. "Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour."
Cullen stared at the Seeker with surprise. The commander had gathered that Cassandra no longer thought the mage guilty, but to think that she was some kind of chosen one…
"You realize I'm a mage," the woman in question pointed out dryly. She clearly thought she was the Maker's chosen about as much as Cullen did, which was oddly comforting.
Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "I have not forgotten. No matter what you are, or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed when we needed it."
Well, Cullen couldn't argue with that. He wanted to. She was the only true suspect they had for what happened at the Conclave, but there were so many questions surrounding the explosion and the mage's role in it. After her attempt to close the Breach, Cullen could no longer blindly blame her, even if he couldn't entirely dispel his suspicions.
For the first time, he spoke, drawing the mage's eye. "The Breach remains," he reminded her, "and your mark is still our only hope of closing it."
The mage raised her eyebrows. It seemed she had not expected him to join in the conversation, particularly in support of her.
"This is not for you to decide!" Roderick shouted as Cassandra pulled a large tome from a nearby bookshelf and slammed the book on the table, glaring at the man before her.
"Do you know what this is, Chancellor?" she asked, pointing to the intricate insignia embellished on the tome's face. It looked like some kind of eye. "A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn." She stepped menacingly toward the chancellor, jabbing a finger into his chest. He stumbled backwards as she advanced. "We will close the breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order - with or without your approval."
Seemingly rendered speechless, Roderick glanced at each of the three women before looking pleadingly at Cullen. When he got no support from the commander, he fled, shaking his head. For a moment, there was only silence in the room.
The mage looked at Cassandra, raising an eyebrow, but it was Leliana who answered her unspoken question. "This is the Divine's directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos." She looked at Cassandra. "We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support."
The Seeker sighed. "But we have no choice: we must act now." She turned to their former prisoner. "With you at our side."
"Me?" The mage stepped back, surprised. Cullen could see fear and confusion flicker in her eyes. Her voice trembled slightly as she asked, "What if I refuse?"
Leliana shrugged. "You can go, if you wish."
"But you should know that while some believe you chosen, many still think you guilty," added Cassandra. "The Inquisition can only protect you if you are with us." She paused. "It will not be easy if you stay, but you cannot pretend this has not changed you."
The mage turned away, pinching the bridge of her nose. They waited. Finally, she sighed, turning back to their little group. "If you're truly trying to restore order…" she said slowly, but firmly.
"That is the plan," said Leliana.
"Help us fix this before it's too late," Cassandra said, reaching out a hand.
And the mage reached out to shake it, sealing all of their fates.
A few weeks later, Cullen found himself in what had come to be known as "the war room," waiting on the rest of their council to convene. They had been busy since their last conversation here; notices had been posted, ravens had been sent, and the Inquisition had been officially introduced to the world. Their ranks had grown as word spread. It seemed that some people believed the Inquisition could actually do some good.
Cassandra and Leliana were forces of nature. They had spent the weeks since the Conclave gathering talent, building forces, and setting up networks for spies and supplies for the budding Inquisition. Cullen didn't know how they did it. Whatever success the Inquisition found going forward, they owed it all to those two women.
Cullen and Kira, on the other hand, had little to bring to the Inquisition in terms of contacts, having both spent most of their lives in Circles. It was perhaps the one thing they had in common. Cullen had invited some of the men and women he knew from his time with the templars, but it was rare for templars to leave the Order, so he was not surprised when few accepted. With the world gone mad, it was far more likely that people would cling to what they knew rather than striking out on a new path. Instead of bringing in new people, services, and goods, Cullen found himself busy training and organizing their troops.
In the weeks that followed the Inquisition's founding, he had not had the opportunity to spend much time with Kira, but he did spend rather a lot of time watching her. Although he was not a templar any longer, it was a challenge to dismiss his training so easily, and he was used to keeping a watchful eye on his charges. The commander was impressed to find that she spent most of her time helping around the little mountain village. She gathered materials for the blacksmith, marked locations for logging on a map for the quartermaster, and even found some old notes the apothecary had been searching for.
Cullen found that his suspicions of her motives grew quieter with each day she spent helping their people. She managed to continually surprise him. What he'd expected was a meek, pampered scholar with very little knowledge or understanding of the world outside the Circle. What he saw was a hard worker who put her all into helping the Inquisition however she could. She was resourceful, eager, and unfailingly kind to the people of Haven.
That he could not find a single fault was suspicious, but Cullen could hardly be bothered to care anymore.
The one skillset he'd yet to evaluate was her combat ability. He'd seen very little when they'd fought together after the Conclave, but he felt fairly certain that her time in the Circle had done little to prepare her for war. He made a mental note to ask Leliana about the mage's abilities. Perhaps they should make sure she was receiving adequate training. It would do them no good to lose their only means of closing the rifts the first time she went out in the field.
When Kira entered the war room alongside Cassandra, Cullen was surprised to find that she was nearly unrecognizable. Although he had watched her for weeks, he hadn't really looked at her since the Inquisition was founded. She had recovered well from her ordeal at the Conclave. Her auburn hair, shining in the dim lamplight of the war room, was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Her tunic and breeches fit well, accenting curves that Cullen hadn't realized were there before.
He realized he was staring when Kira glanced up. Their eyes met; hers were a striking green, filled with a keen intelligence that caught and held the commander's attention. He looked away hurriedly. He wasn't sure how it had escaped his notice for so long, but Kira was really quite beautiful.
Objectively speaking, of course.
His face hot, Cullen turned his attention from the rather uncomfortable direction of his thoughts to the meeting at hand.
The purpose of today's meeting was twofold. The first order of business lay in introducing the Inquisition's new ambassador and chief diplomat. Lady Josephine Montilyet was an olive-skinned woman with dark hair worn in a neat, braided bun at the nape of her neck, though a few tendrils had escaped to frame her lovely face. She dressed in more extravagant clothing than the others in the group, who were all clothed sensibly. From Cullen's understanding, Leliana had recruited Lady Montilyet, whose credentials were impressive, though how she managed to spend all day catering to nobility was beyond him. He supposed that, as a noble, she would have a better grasp of how to handle them than he did, but he still couldn't see how she stayed sane.
The second reason for today's meeting was to discuss the Breach. Despite their best efforts, it remained in the sky. Its permanent closure was the Inquisition's primary goal at present.
Once Josephine had been introduced, Cassandra turned to Kira. "Thanks to your efforts, the Breach is stable. You've given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed — provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by."
A corner of the mage's mouth quirked upwards. "What harm could there be in powering up something we barely understand?" she asked drily.
Kira's response was not what Cullen had expected. As a mage, he would have thought that she would be unable or unwilling to see the risks of such a large magical working. To hear her acknowledge, even in jest, that it could do more harm than good was encouraging.
Cassandra chuckled. "Hold on to that sense of humor."
"We must approach the rebel mages for help," Leliana said.
Cullen's eyebrows snapped together, and he looked to the spymaster with a frown. Not this again. "I still disagree. The templars could serve just as well."
Kira looked down, hiding her thoughts behind long lashes. It didn't matter; Cullen knew what she must be thinking. She was a mage. If it was a choice between mages and templars, he knew who she would pick. But pouring power into something as dangerous as the Breach could only end badly, with demons, abominations, or worse. Cullen could not deny that there was bad blood between the mages and templars, but that should not blind the Inquisition - or Kira - to the potential risks and benefits of either side.
"We need power, Commander," Cassandra argued, shaking her head. "Enough magic poured into that mark -"
"- might destroy us all," the Commander interrupted. The Breach was unstable and unpredictable. Anything they did had the potential to make things worse. "Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so -"
"Pure speculation," Leliana scoffed.
Cullen scowled at her. "I was a templar. I know what they're capable of."
Kira stiffened almost imperceptibly. Cullen's scowl deepened. His past had yet to come up in their brief interactions, and a part of him regretted that this was how she'd found out. Just because he had been a templar didn't mean he wished her - or any other mages - harm. Wasn't the fact that he had joined the Inquisition proof that he recognized the need for change? But now the fact that he had been a templar would color any interaction they had.
Josephine spoke up for the first time. "Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition." She turned to the mage. "And you, specifically."
Kira frowned. "Can't we simply ignore them?"
Leliana sighed. "If only that were possible."
The ambassador shook her head. "Some are calling you - a mage - the 'Herald of Andraste.' That frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you."
Cassandra made a face. "Chancellor Roderick's doing, no doubt."
"It limits our options," Josephine admitted. "Approaching the mages or templars for help is currently out of the question."
"I'm sorry, wait," interrupted the mage, holding up a hand. "Just how am I the 'Herald of Andraste'?"
"People saw what you did at the temple," Cassandra explained. "How you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste."
Leliana waved a hand dismissively. "Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading -"
"Which we have not," Cassandra interrupted pointedly.
The spymaster paused to glare at Cassandra. It wasn't in her nature to reveal her hand, and Cassandra had all but admitted that the Inquisition was using Kira's image for their benefit. She turned to the mage. "The point is, everyone is talking about you."
Cullen saw an opportunity to extend an olive branch. Kira didn't have to like him - but since they had to work together for now, it would be nice if they could do so with minimal animosity. "It's quite the title, isn't it?" he said with a raised brow and a sympathetic smile. "How do you feel about that?"
Kira hesitated, looking unsure. He didn't know if it was because of the question or who it came from, but eventually she said, "It's… a little unsettling."
Which seemed to be a vast understatement. Cullen chuckled. "I'm sure the Chantry would agree."
"People are desperate for a sign of hope," Leliana pointed out. "For some, you're that sign."
Josephine sighed. "And to others, a symbol of everything that's gone wrong."
Kira looked suddenly tired. She massaged a temple absently. "So if I wasn't with the Inquisition…"
Cullen could hear the unspoken question. Would the Chantry have supported them then? But no - he knew what the Inquisition looked like from the outside: an upstart order claiming to be holy while grabbing for power in the wake of the Chantry's downfall. It wasn't true, of course, but that hardly mattered. Perception was key, and the Chantry's perception of them would have been decidedly negative, with or without the Herald of Andraste.
And so Cullen shook his head. "Let's be honest: They would have censured us no matter what."
"And you not being here isn't an option," Cassandra added firmly.
The mage took a deep breath. "Alright. Well… what can I do?"
The conversation from there turned to things that Kira could do that the rest of them could not. They began to plan a trip to the lands near Redcliffe to seek out a Chantry cleric named Mother Giselle, who had offered her assistance in dealing with the Chantry. There were several other ways to spread the Inquisition's influence in the Hinterlands while she was there. The Inquisition needed mounts, and the finest horsemaster in Ferelden called the Hinterlands home. Kira would seek him out and negotiate on behalf of the Inquisition for a string of horses, as many as she could get. She would also seek out any lingering rifts and close them.
Most importantly, she would help the people. As the Herald of Andraste, they would rally around her, and the Inquisition would continue to grow. And, if Kira was successful, the Inquisition would begin bringing order back to their chaotic world.
The recruits that had joined the Inquisition were coming along rather more slowly than Cullen would have liked.
The soldiers-in-training kept to a strict schedule. They rose with the dawn for breakfast, then spent their morning attending lessons on history, mathematics, and other subjects. In Cullen's opinion, a basic education was the least the Inquisition could provide for those volunteering their lives to the cause, but there was another motive. Lessons in history could help to prevent this Inquisition from making mistakes made by its predecessor; mathematics were integral for future problems with supply chains and any number of other military applications. As the recruits progressed, their training would evolve to include information on command and strategy, with the hope that those well-suited to promotion would naturally emerge.
After lunch was physical training. They began with endurance training and basic drills, then progressed to a variety of different weapons. Everyone was instructed in hand-to-hand combat, staves, swords and shields, and bows. After learning the basics, the idea was to allow individuals to specialize in the things that best suited them, since it took all kinds to make an army. Unfortunately, Cullen wasn't sure they would ever make it that far. It was much harder to train adults than children, and it seemed that these men and women were taking forever to learn even the basics.
"You there!" he barked late one afternoon. "There's a shield in your hand. Block with it!" Maker's breath, they would be slaughtered if faced with a real fight. "If this man were your enemy, you'd be dead. Lieutenant -" He turned to give orders to the man in charge of this particular lesson and caught sight of Kira standing nearby, watching him. "- don't hold back. The recruits must prepare for a real fight, not a practice one."
Then he strode over to join the mage. She had turned her attention to the recruits, but she glanced at him as he settled in beside her. A light breeze tugged at the tendrils of auburn hair that framed her face.
"We've received a number of recruits," he told her briskly, a commander giving a report to a colleague. "Locals from Haven and some pilgrims." His manner softened, and his mouth quirked up at the corner. "None made quite the entrance you did."
"That wasn't my idea," the mage informed him wryly.
Cullen chuckled. He was pleased that she was comfortable enough to joke with him. After finding out that he had been a templar, Cullen had worried that it would make all of their future interactions uncomfortable. Perhaps he had worried needlessly. "I'd be concerned if it was," he said. He began walking down the line of practicing recruits, gesturing for Kira to follow. "I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall, myself. I was there during the mage uprising – I saw firsthand the devastation it caused."
He saw the brief moment of surprise on her face, and then the curiosity. Everyone had heard about what happened in Kirkwall, but to have actually been there… everyone always wanted to know what it was like. But Kira was blessedly silent, keeping any questions she might have to herself. Cullen wondered if her diplomacy was a result of her noble upbringing.
A shout interrupted them as a soldier jogged up to hand off a report. Cullen glanced at it, thanking the runner as the man went on his way. It was nothing that couldn't wait until later. He turned his attention back to Kira. "Cassandra sought a solution. When she offered me a position, I left the templars to join her cause. Now it seems we face something far worse."
Kira held up her hand, her mark sparking gently in the sun. "I must have this mark for a reason. It will work. I'm sure of it."
"Provided we can secure aid," the Commander agreed, "but I'm confident we can." His gaze wandered over the recruits, and he winced as watched them. Their form really was atrocious. "The Chantry lost control of both templars and mages. Now they argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains. The Inquisition could act when the Chantry cannot. Our followers would be part of that. There's so much we can -" He stopped, looking sheepish. "Forgive me. I doubt you came here for a lecture."
To his surprise, she grinned. "No," she said, "but if you have one prepared, I'd love to hear it."
The Commander laughed. "Another time, perhaps." For a moment, their eyes met and held. Maker, why was his mouth suddenly so dry? "I, ah -" he started, as though to say something else, though he didn't have anything in particular to say. He cleared his throat nervously and returned his gaze to the recruits; Kira, too, was now looking elsewhere. Cullen wondered if he'd made her uncomfortable. Not for the first time, he considered that perhaps she was just as unsure of him as he was of her. After a moment's pause, he continued, "There's still a lot of work ahead -"
"Commander!" a scout interrupted. Thank you, blessed Andraste, thought Cullen, who was unsure how to break the awkwardness between himself and the mage. "Ser Rylen has a report on our supply lines."
"As I was saying," Cullen said. "If you'll excuse me." And he followed the scout away.
That night, Cullen sat by a lamp in his tent, working his way through a stack of reports that had been piling up in recent days. He'd been at it for some time when he realized he had been reading the same sentence for the past ten minutes, and he still didn't know what he'd read. He scrubbed a hand over his face, stretching in his chair. It was late, but he wasn't ready for bed. All that awaited him there were his demons. Instead, he rose, pulled on a warm cloak, and left the tent.
He wandered. First, he worked his way through the on-duty sentries (and was pleased to find that none were shirking their duty). Then he walked along the walls surrounding Haven, wishing that they were sturdier. Finally, he found himself on a path down to the frozen lake. It was there that he finally took a seat at the end of a pier to stare out over the ice.
It was ethereally beautiful under the moonlight, all reflections and soft light. For a few moments, his mind quieted, allowing him to simply be. He was reminded of his training, when he would meditate for hours on end. He remembered his vigil, held under this very same moon, and the peace and excitement he had felt at the prospect of becoming a fully fledged templar. If he'd known what was to come, would he still have chosen this path?
He wasn't really sure.
But it didn't matter now. He was here. He had joined the Order and served faithfully, but none of it had mattered. It had only made him a victim of blood mages, abominations, and demons. He'd nearly died so many times, and at the hands of so many, that it was hard to believe that he'd made it out alive. And yet, here he was, an ex-templar in a fledgling Inquisition, somehow in command of its army and charged with keeping them all alive.
When he thought about it that way, he had to wonder how in Andraste's name he had managed to get the job. His track record was horrendous.
A voice interrupted his thoughts. "Couldn't sleep?" the voice asked sympathetically, and he turned his head to catch sight of its owner. It was her. Of course it was.
Kira stood a short distance behind him on the pier, her auburn hair turned milky in the moonlight. Like him, she looked as though she'd come from trying to sleep. Her clothes were wrinkled, as though they'd been slept in; she wrapped herself in a large cloak like a blanket.
"Can I… can I join you?" she asked hesitantly.
His brows snapped together in confusion. "Why?" he asked without thinking, and immediately regretted it when her face fell. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean… I just thought I'd be one of the last people you'd wish to spend time with." His chest felt tight all of a sudden - what if he'd offended her? What if she thought he wanted her to leave?
But to his relief, she didn't move. "I saw you out here all alone, and I thought… since we're both awake, I thought that it might be nice to try to get to know each other better. We do work together, after all." She hesitated, frowning anxiously. "But if you'd rather I leave…"
"No!" he exclaimed, then cleared his throat uncomfortably as she raised an eyebrow. "No, that's not… I would appreciate the chance to talk. As you say, we do work together, and it would be easier if things between us were less…"
"Awkward?"
"Precisely."
So she sat next to him on the pier, her legs dangling over the edge, and wrapped herself more tightly in her cloak. For a while, they sat in silence, gazing out across the frozen water, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Slowly, gently, his mind began to calm, and he found that in the wake of his anxiety, his mind turned to her.
"May I ask you a question?" he said finally, glancing at the mage beside him.
"You mean other than that one?" she asked, her mouth quirking up into a smile. When he laughed, she grinned, looking pleased with herself. "Ask away, Commander. I'm an open book. I'll even let you ask more than one," she teased.
"All right," he said with a smile. "Where are you from?"
"Starting with something easy, I see," she said. "I'm from Ostwick, in the Free Marches. My family are minor nobles there, although I grew up in the Circle after my magic manifested. And you?"
"I grew up in Ferelden, near Honnleath," Cullen replied. "I first served in the Circle Tower at Kinloch Hold, but I was transferred to Kirkwall shortly after the Blight. This is the first I've returned in almost ten years."
"Ten years is a long time," she said, sounding curious.
"It is. But the Inquisition… when Cassandra offered me a position, I couldn't say no. There's so much potential here, so much that we can do. I joined the Templars because I could think of no better calling than to protect those in need, but the Order…" he paused, unwilling to speak ill of his former brothers- and sisters-in-arms. He shook his head. "The Inquisition has a real chance at restoring peace."
"That we do," Kira murmured in agreement. "I hope we can live up to that promise."
"As do I."
There was a moment of silence.
"May I… ask your opinion of mages?" Kira looked anxious. He couldn't blame her, either for asking or for worrying about his answer. In the midst of a war between templars and mages, the fact that they were able to sit and peacefully discuss his thoughts of mages was a small miracle.
"I've seen the suffering magic can inflict," Cullen said slowly, thinking over each word with care. "I've treated mages with distrust because of it – at times without cause. That was unworthy of me. I'll try not to do so here."
"I'm relieved to hear you say so," she said. "I was afraid you'd distrust me on principle."
Cullen chuckled. "In truth, I did distrust you at first. You saw the Temple of Sacred Ashes, or what was left of it - how could someone have been there and lived? I thought you must have been involved."
"I hope you don't think that anymore."
"No," he said, and was surprised to find that it was the truth. When had his suspicions slipped away? "You're here, and you're doing your best to help. That's more than most." He paused. "And you? My having been a templar doesn't bother you?"
"It did, at first," she admitted. "But it's… complicated."
"Oh?"
"I trust templars. Or, at least, I used to trust templars. Most of them. I mean, there are some bad templars, but there are also bad mages, and… Oh, Maker's breath," she sighed. "I'm not making any sense." Kira pulled her knees to her chest, tucking them beneath her cloak as Cullen chuckled softly. "Let me start over. When I was in the Circle, I trusted most of our templars. But after the Circles fell, they turned on us. We were all apostates, whether we wanted to be or not. Neither side trusted the other anymore. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I didn't trust you because I didn't think you'd trust me."
Cullen was surprised to find that he understood her perfectly. Hearing her put it into words made him realize that part of why he distrusted mages now was because he expected them to distrust him first. But that just became a cycle that they'd never break free of. It was an enlightening thought. "So what changed your mind?" he asked.
She hesitated. "I… don't know," she said. "The way you talk about the Inquisition and what we can do for Thedas is… not what I would have expected. You seem more open-minded than I originally assumed. For that, I apologize."
"I originally assumed that you had murdered hundreds of people," Cullen pointed out. "So if there are apologies to be made, please accept mine."
"Deal." She offered her hand. He took it and they shook; her hand was small and delicate in his, and warmer than he'd expected. The touch lingered until Kira blushed and looked away, withdrawing her hand. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling very shy.
They sat in companionable silence for a while, each gazing to the heavens, lost in their own thoughts.
"Do you know any constellations?" Kira asked suddenly.
"I can't say I do," Cullen replied, startled.
"Well," Kira said, shifting to tuck her foot beneath the opposite thigh, and leaning so that she could point up to the west. "See, there, the five stars in sort of a rectangle?"
Cullen nodded. It was an oddly shaped rectangle, but constellations were strange that way.
Kira continued. "That's the bottom half of Bellitanus, also known as, 'the Maiden,' although some texts say that it's actually supposed to represent Urthemiel, the Old God of Beauty. Then, over there," she said as she moved her arm across the sky, "the stars in kind of a cross shape? That's Solium. Humans tend to think it's the sun, or the moon, or both, but apparently there's an elven history as well, and scholars don't really know which came first. Oh, and there's -" she stopped suddenly, and Cullen looked at her, concerned, only to find that she was much closer to him than he'd realized. His breath caught in his throat as he realized just how green her eyes were, even lit by the moon and the stars as they were now.
Kira withdrew her arm and straightened, looking away in embarrassment. "Forgive me, Commander. I didn't mean to get so carried away."
He found himself disappointed. He told himself that her enthusiasm had been contagious, ignoring the fact that it felt suddenly colder now that she'd moved away. He'd never really looked at the stars before, not like this, and it was actually quite pleasant to find the shapes of the constellations she named. If nothing else, it was a distraction for his overactive mind. "What was the next one?" he asked, turning his gaze back to the sky.
She hesitated, but when he turned to look at her expectantly, she smiled. "All right, then. If you're sure I'm not boring you."
"You walked in the Fade and lived to tell the tale. The last thing you are is boring," Cullen said dryly.
"Well, when you put it like that." Kira leaned closer again, though not so close as before. She pointed to a group of stars nearly straight overhead. "Judex," she said softly, tracing its outline in the sky. "It was a symbol of justice in ancient Tevinter, but now it's mostly known as -"
"The Sword of Mercy."
Surprised, Kira stared at him. "I thought you said you didn't know constellations."
He shrugged. "I don't. But the Sword of Mercy is a symbol of the Templar Order."
"Oh," she said. "Of course. I wasn't thinking."
Cullen glanced at her curiously. "I would not have thought there to be much opportunity for stargazing in the Circle."
Kira hummed thoughtfully, sitting back and looking at the stars again. "Not like this, no," she admitted, "But we did have windows. There was this window seat in the library that I loved. Whenever I couldn't sleep, I would go and watch the stars there. I could only see a few constellations at a time, but over the years, I like to think I saw most of them as they moved through the sky."
Cullen was quiet for a moment. Then, hesitantly, he said, "It… doesn't sound like you hated the Circle?" It was more a question than a statement, and Kira took a moment to consider her response.
"I suppose… I didn't hate it," she said slowly. "But… I didn't know any other way to live with magic. I enjoyed learning my craft, and I made friends. I had mentors, and I did research, and I suppose I was happy enough at the time. It's just…" She trailed off, thoughtful. Finally, she spoke softly, so much so that he almost couldn't hear her. "It was still a cage, no matter how gilded the bars."
There was a moment of awkward silence. Cullen knew that most mages felt that the Circles were restrictive, at best. Many of the mages in the more oppressive circles likened it to prison, even if they had never done anything wrong. And while he didn't think mages should be left completely unchecked, he wasn't sure how they should be handled anymore. "It is good to know that not all mages experienced the worst of Circle life," he admitted.
"I didn't support the rebellion," Kira said. "I believe the Circles needed to change - we heard the stories, and even our Circle was not immune to abuses of power." Her mouth twisted angrily, and he wondered what she'd been through to elicit such a reaction. "But to rebel?" She shook her head. "It was madness."
"I'm surprised to hear you say so."
Kira laughed, "Yes, I suppose it's not the most popular opinion among my fellow mages." She leaned back until she was lying on the dock, staring at the sky. "Perhaps it's whatever remnants of nobility that remain in me after all this time, but I can't help but think there had to be a better way, a more… diplomatic way, maybe. A more peaceful way, for certain. But then, that may just be wishful thinking."
Cullen sighed. "Diplomacy may have worked, once," he said. "But by the time the mages rebelled, war may have been inevitable."
A cold wind blew across the lake and beside him, Kira shivered despite her cloak. He frowned at her. "You should return to your cabin, Herald. It will do no one any good if you catch a cold."
"Oh, Maker, not you, too," Kira complained.
"Not - what?" he asked, confused.
"Everyone has been calling me the Herald of Andraste, and I can't stand it. I'm not some chosen one here to save us all!"
Personally, Cullen thought it was very likely that she was the only one capable of saving Thedas, what with the mark on her hand and her ability to close the rifts. He knew she wouldn't be able to do it alone, but that didn't make her any less chosen, whether by Andraste or not. But now didn't seem to be the opportune time to mention that. "What would you have me call you, then?"
Kira snorted. "Anything else?"
Cullen thought for a moment. Even if he felt comfortable calling her by name - which he did not - it would hardly be appropriate to be so informal with the Herald of Andraste. He had spent most of his life in the Templar Order, where titles were generally used above all else. But what other title could he use with Kira? He sighed. "All right, my lady. I won't call you that. You should return to your cabin, however."
"'My lady,' is not better," the mage grumbled, but she stood anyway. It seemed she didn't care for her nobility any more than she cared for being the Herald of Andraste. Cullen joined her for the walk back to the village gates. "Are you not cold?" she demanded with a scowl.
Cullen chuckled, unfazed. "Not particularly, my lady," he said, emphasizing her new title teasingly.
"I despise you," she informed him, but she was smiling when she said it.
He grinned. "Don't worry. The Hinterlands should be much warmer this time of year."
"So they tell me," she said with a sigh. "I hope it's true. Anyway," she added with a smirk, "You'd best behave yourself while we're gone." At Cullen's confused look, her grin widened. "According to Josephine, you have been - now, what was the phrase she used? Ah! Antagonizing the good chancellor." Kira's tone was jovial, and her eyes danced with mirth.
Cullen did not even try to hide his derisive snort. "As I told her, if I offend the man so easily, perhaps he should try leaving me alone."
"He could, but if he left you alone, what would you do to pass the time?" she remarked in a falsely comforting voice. "He's doing you a favor, obviously."
The Commander laughed. "I'll be sure to thank him next time I see him."
"Which will probably be tomorrow."
"Unfortunately."
They were laughing together as they reached the village gates. "You depart for the Hinterlands tomorrow?" Cullen asked with a smile.
She nodded. "That's right. We'll probably be gone for a week or two, assuming all goes well."
"Well, I wish you luck," the Commander said sincerely. "I will keep the peace while you and the others are gone."
"I will hold you to that, Commander. Good night." Kira turned to enter the village, then stopped. "And… I hope we can do this again sometime."
"As do I, my lady. Good night."
