Victoria made her way back to her quarters at Haven, pondering what just happened with Commander Cullen. She had tried to make her interest in him obvious since their first encounter, but the Commander had been quite coy and a little awkward in his responses. When they went out into the forest together, his bold behavior surprised her. The one thing she noted from the experience was that he had noticed what she did with her hair. It was always in the way and she was constantly pushing it behind her ear. When she fell on top of him, he cared enough to do it for her. More importantly, he noticed that she even did it. She wasn't sure what his intentions were, but she wanted desperately to find out.

Their encounter was cut short by Seeker Pentaghast, however, and now she was off to bed. She bathed, hoping to unwind from the long day she had. Her mark was no longer growing, but that didn't mean it no longer troubled her. Since the day at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, she'd tried to recall exactly what happened before she stepped out of the Fade. All she had were the memories pieced together for her. On top of that, whenever she was near a rift-and she had been near many in Redcliffe-the mark would sting. None of this would be easy, that's for sure. When she felt herself relax enough, she put on her night clothes and went to bed.

Cullen was almost grateful when Lady Cassandra interrupted the Herald and his' encounter. Not that he didn't want to spend time with her-that couldn't be farther from the truth. However, the longer they spent near each other, the more nervous he got. No one ever had this effect on him. He'd been interested in women before, but just one word from the Herald made him blush. Plus, he wasn't really sure what to make of the way she acted toward him. She was clearly very playful, and asked invasive questions, to say the least. What if she did that with everybody? Of course she does, Cullen thought. How could she be even remotely interested in me? Compared to the Herald, Cullen thought himself completely ordinary, verging on boring. She was stunning and endearing, and there was no way he could compare.

He could no longer concentrate on the prospect of training recruits, so he decided it was time to retire to his quarters. There's no way he could think of anything other than his encounter with Lady Trevelyan, at least for the rest of the night.

He was on his way back to the Chantry to check on something in the War Room first, when he heard screaming. His eyes darted left and right, trying to find the source. His stomach was torn up when he realized that the noise was coming from the Herald's quarters. If someone was trying to hurt her, Maker help them. They would not survive the encounter if he had anything to say about it. He rushed to her quarters, only to find no one in the room but the Herald herself, screaming and crying in bed. He looked down to her mark to see that it was flaring up, when he realized that she was having a nightmare. Cullen knew far too much about nightmares, as he experienced them almost every night since the incident at Ferelden's circle. For him, the suffering was common; to see the same pained expression on her face was excruciating.

Before he could think about what he was doing, he sat on the side of her bed, trying to wake her from the horrors that plagued her. "Trevelyan, it's okay," he muttered. When she wouldn't calm down, he grabbed her marked hand and brought her forehead to his. "Trevelyan, it's Cullen. You're safe. Just focus on me and it'll all go away." He began to rub the mark on her hand, hoping that easing her pain would bring her back to reality.

Slowly, Trevelyan came out of her terrifying slumber, and her shocking green eyes trained on his as their foreheads pressed together. As her breathing slowed, she began to shiver, and Cullen removed his overcoat and placed it on her shoulders.

She separated from him, gaze still fixed on his eyes, and adjusted the coat. Oh, Maker, even now she was beautiful. Her hair was tousled from an obviously rough slumber, she had no makeup on, and her face was wet with tears, yet she was still flawless.

Realizing that his silence while admiring her may make her uncomfortable, he broke it to ask if she was okay. By now she had stopped shivering, and was calm enough to speak clearly. "Yes, I'm better now," she assured. Then, before he could think, she threw her arms around him. "Thank you, Cullen."

They embraced for a long time, Trevelyan's fingers rustling the back of his hair. Ordinarily the act would bother him, but since it was her, he found only comfort in the gesture. "Not a problem," he whispered, rubbing her back. "I was just going to get some tea, I'm having trouble sleeping as well," he lied. "If you'd like, I can bring some back for you."

She broke her hold and Cullen thought he overstepped his boundaries, but she replied, "That would be lovely! Tea would probably help." She gave him a tired smile and seemed to grow even more comfortable in his coat, nuzzling herself in the fur pauldrons.

Cullen nodded to her and took his leave, which was probably good since the sight of her in his coat was enough to make him kiss her right then and there. He walked into the tavern and ordered two cups of tea from the bar maid. "You're lookin' real hot and bothered, yeah?" He heard someone say behind him. He turned around to find the tiny elf, Sera, speaking to him.

Not wanting to give himself away, he explained, "Ah, well, Trevelyan just had a bad dream and I thought she was being attacked."

As much as he tried to brush it off, Sera wouldn't bite. She looked behind him at the bar and said, "Nice night for tea, innit? Who's the second cup for?"

He coughed at her boldness and stuttered, "I-uh-Lady Trevelyan."

She smirked, knowing that she caught him. He was too eager to get back to Trevelyan to entertain her, and she could read that all over his face. "Yeah, well, enjoy your tea and ladybits there," she said with a smirk.

Cullen laughed out loud at that, and took the tea back to the Herald's quarters. She had repositioned herself so that she was sitting on the bed with her legs folded, almost all of her disappearing in the overcoat she was still wearing. She looked like she was meant to be in his coat. Before he embarrassed himself, he handed her the tea and turned back to the door, only to hear her say, "Cullen, wait…"

He turned around and looked into her eyes, seeing a degree of sadness and fear to them. "I-I was hoping you'd stay for a little while. If you have other things to do it's fine, I just…"

Understanding, he nodded and sat down in a chair next to her bed. They sat in silence, sipping their tea. Cullen thought he was being awkward, until he looked over to Trevelyan to see her smirking at him.

"What?" he chucked. Seeing her face so changed from before was a relief.

"I wasn't done asking you questions, Commander."

"Oh dear. Alright, what other intrusive questions do you have for me?" he played along.

"Hey! My questions aren't that bad. They're really not 'trip on your own two feet and fall in snow' bad." Ooh, she had him there. She knew she was victorious, and the smirk spread across her face, making its way even into her eyes. "I should get to know you better. We're working together, after all."

"What would you like to know?"

"All right…" she pondered. "Where are you from?"

"I grew up in Ferelden, near Honnleath. I was transferred to Kirkwall shortly after the Blight...This is the first I've returned in almost ten years."

Trevelyan's eyes widened. "You haven't seen Ferelden in ten years. Are you glad to be back?"

Cullen swallowed hard. This was a topic that was so hard for him to talk about, but worth it if it meant Trevelyan would be happy. "I was not sorry to leave at the time. I did not expect to return. Now-between the Divine's murder and the Breach-I've arrived to find nothing but chaos."

"And a friend," the Herald interjected. He looked up at that, and Trevelyan pulled him by the hand onto her bed.

"W-What are you doing, Trevelyan?"

"It's Victoria, Cullen. You're too formal; consider this me trying to loosen you up, okay?"

He chucked, his face mere inches from hers, and whispered, "Okay."

She sat up and positioned him across from her, trying to get him to mirror her posture. Of course, he obliged and she continued, "You were in Ferelden during the Blight. Did you fight darkspawn?"

"No," he elaborated. "I was stationed at Ferelden's circle tower. The Circle had troubles of its own. I...remained there during the Blight."

"What happened at the Circle Tower?"

His stomach dropped and fear flooded into his body. "Few who have survived the Blight have fond memories of that time. I would prefer not to speak of it."

"Oh, okay," she whispered, and Cullen saw her expression turn to a frown and back before she pressed, "What was Kirkwall like?" She relaxed herself at the head of her bed, and Cullen relaxed as well, glad that she had not continued to ask him about Ferelden. Kirkwall wasn't much better, but he could at least talk about that.

"While I was there, Qunari occupied and then attacked the city, the Viscount's murder caused political unrest...relations between mages and templars fell apart, an apostate blew up the Chantry, and the Knight-Commander went mad. Other than that, it was fine," he explained, waving his hand like it was nothing.

"Holy shit!" Trevelyan shouted, immediately correcting herself, "Oh, I'm sorry. Someone called the 'Herald of Andraste' probably shouldn't say that. But I can't believe all that happened!"

He could tell she was growing tired now. She looked at him, her eyes slightly less excited than before. He didn't even realize what was happening when she laid her head down across his legs, now stretched across the length of the bed. Facing up towards him, she asked, "Is this okay?"

Cullen impulsively mustered a strained, "Yes," as he tried to contain himself. She was so close to him that he could barely stand that their skin was not touching.

"Good," she sighed, closing her eyes.. She began playing with the material at the bottom of his shirt before casually continuing. "What happened between Kirkwall's mages and templars?"

His voice caught in his throat and then grew deep at their closeness. "You were at the Conclave. You must have heard people speak of it." He willed himself not to give his attraction away, and distracted himself by playing with her hair. "There was tension between the mages and templars long before I arrived," he sighed. "Eventually, it reached a breaking point. There was fighting in the streets. Abominations began killing both sides. It was a nightmare. The templars should have restored order, but red lyrium had driven Knight-Commander Meredith mad. She threatened to kill Kirkwall's Champion, turned on her own men. I'm not sure how far she would've gone. Too far. I stood with the Champion against her, in the end. But I should have seen through Meredith sooner."

"Varric's from Kirkwall," she noted lazily. "Did you two know each other?"

"I knew he was friends with the Champion, but little else. We've spoken more since I joined the Inquisition. Largely at Varric's insistence. Apparently I spend too much time with a serious expression on my face, and it's bad for my health."

Cullen looked down to see Trevelyan asleep in his lap. She was so much more peaceful than before. He whispered, "Goodnight, Victoria." Before falling asleep himself.

Victoria woke up, only to realize that the Commander was no longer there. She looked outside to see that it was late afternoon; she slept almost all day. Cullen's overcoat was still around her. It smelled like him, making her smile and nuzzle into the pauldrons again. She saw a note on her desk, reading:

Victoria,

I did not wish to wake you. Your trip to Redcliffe has been postponed a day at my insistence. Enjoy your sleep.

Regards,

Cullen

She smiled and got dressed, putting Cullen's overcoat on as she stepped out of her quarters. The Commander was so sweet to her, probably more so than she deserved.

She found him at his usual post, training new recruits. When their eyes met, he smirked at her and turned to face her, making her bold gesture that much harder to follow through on. Before she could over think it, she walked up to him and put the coat around him. She pressed her forehead to his, whispered, "Thank you," and gave him a light kiss on his scar before confidently walking away. She could swear she heard him mutter, "Maker's Breath," as she walked away, smiling triumphantly.