Author's Note: This is a oneshot that obviously takes place during Haven right after Therinfal Redoubt. It's pre-relationship, but- as you can see- it's getting there! Let me know what you guys think! -Allison
"Are you doing alright out here?" Cullen could vaguely hear Gwyn over the howling of the winds. As much as he tried, he still hadn't quite grown used to the blizzard-like conditions that surrounded Haven. He had slowly become accustomed to the regular snowfall, but still forced himself to come up with new strategies for training exercises when the men seemed at their worst and unprepared for harsh weather like this. He watched as the Herald approached slowly, her hands holding two cups pulled close to her chest. He continued to work on the trebuchets, his gloved hands already losing some feeling.
"I'm fine," Cullen responded curtly, his gaze returning back to his work.
"It's bloody freezing out here," she sighed, sucking in a deep breath of air. "Why don't you come inside for a bit?" He paused, considering the option for a moment before continuing his work. She held out a cup towards him, a small smile making the scar on her jaw twitch. He stared. Perhaps too awkwardly as Gwyn forced back some laughter with another sigh, "Are you just going to let me hang onto it or…"
"Right!" He stammered, reaching for the steaming cup. He blew on the top, peering over the rim as Gwyn took short sips of her own cup.
"It's just hot cocoa. If you'd prefer tea-"
"Hot cocoa is fine." The words came out quickly. Maybe too quickly, judging the way Gwyn was smiling at him. The silence between them grew and Cullen expected her to take her leave. She'd done her good deed of the day already. She needn't torture herself further by remaining. Instead, she sat on a nearby crate, pulling her scarf tighter as another gust of wind pushed past. She looked down at passing Templars and offered a polite wave as they stared in her direction. She frowned slightly when they did not return the gesture, but pulled her cup to her lips once more. Her eyes studied the hot cocoa, her gloved fingers
"I wondered…why did you choose the Templars?" The question had been digging in the back of his mind since the day she declared it. In past meetings, she had ignored being a part of their bickering. She spent her time staring down at the map, her fingers picking up the small marker on Redcliffe time and time again. That alone made her decision seem obvious, to him anyway. Yet, when there was no more time left to add to the bickering and Leliana had told her a decision needed to be made, she had stared at the marker over Therinfal Redoubt as he argued for the Order. To him, he was fighting a losing battle. He waited for her to announce the march to Redcliffe. Instead, when she did speak, it was with unwavering confidence. The Order. He wasn't sure he had heard her at first. In fact, he assumed she was toying with them. She must have seen the look on his face when she spoke again, if we present a plan to seal the Breach, the Templars may ally with us. An alliance. She was taking it a step further. While she found ways to frustrate him to no end, it was clear there was more to her that he wasn't expecting. Even now, she was watching a small group of Templars in the training yard.
"What do you think they think of me?" Her voice was quiet. Cullen pursed his lips. He could think of many things that those men and women might think about her.
"They're grateful for what you did for them," he offered. Gwyn snorted as she took another sip of her cocoa.
"Maybe," she sighed. "But most of them have their minds made up about me. Most of them hate me or fear me." He watched as she pulled her jacket closer.
"That's not true."
"Haven't you?" She eyed him curiously.
"I…" His face burned with heat as he glanced away. He was guilty. When he had met her in person, the first thing he noticed was the staff she wielded. It would be a lie to say otherwise. Later, when she had taken the time to give a formal introduction, she offered him a warm smile and her hand. The one with the Anchor. He had eyed it, but not taken it. Instead, he had introduced himself as the Commander of the Inquisition and moved her attention to the war table. How many times had he scoffed at the informality of her reports and flinched when she neared him? Just a few weeks ago, she had called him out on this. 'Allow Commander Cullen to assist you in practicing your swordplay,' Cass told me. 'He's tough, but really is a gentlemen,' she told me. He remembered the way she had rolled her eyes and the way he had stammered an apology. More so, he remembered how he felt the need to correct his mistakes. How it bothered him he had mistreated her. He glanced up back up at her to see her grinning.
"It's okay. Like I said before, it's not every day a mage is named the Herald of Andraste. When I agreed to be a part of this, I knew what that would mean. I knew it would mean more judgement. I knew that it meant people wouldn't have to actually know me to think they already have me figured out. That's just how being a mage works. Sure, I could have supported the mages. I could have even disbanded the Templars—I considered it. But why did I choose them?" She was quiet, her lips pursed as she stood up and approached Cullen. "To prove to them, that, as a mage, I could put aside negativity for the greater good. That, I and all those other mages matter. Maybe I should've supported my own people. They need help and I've chosen to be the person to live with that decision. But, through all this, maybe I can show them the good that exists in working with mages like me, Vivienne, and Solas. Perhaps, mages can see the good that exists in the Order willing to work with a mage. I don't know." A small laugh escaped and she shrugged. "Or maybe I'm just a fool."
Cullen shook his head, shivering slightly when another gust of wind blew in their direction.
"I didn't…I never thought of it like that."
"Well, of course not. Many of those in the Order—people everywhere, really- think they have their minds made up about me simply because I carry a staff instead of a sword. It's my job to change that, don't you think?" She smiled as she watched the group of men continue to train in the fading light. Her breath visible as she turned to face him once more. The light from the torch glistened in the blue of her eyes as she grinned at him. He shivered in response, but he wasn't sure whether it was from the cold or the way her gaze lingered on him. Suddenly, she removed her scarf from around her neck and wrapped it around him tentatively. He was left speechless as she carefully hooked the dark purple material carefully.
"Oh, no. I couldn't possibly…" Gwyn held one hand up in response.
"You can have it. Josephine bought me one from Val Royeaux." She patted where the material sat on his chest-plate. "Besides, it looks better on you." She grinned, picking up her empty cup.
"Thank you," Cullen stammered out. He glanced down at the cup of cocoa in his hands.
"I guess I'm not the only one who feels they've something to prove," she murmured. Her boot dug into the snow at her feet until she offered a wistful smile. "Well, I'm going to grab a quick drink. Have a good night, Cullen. Stay warm." She tucked wisps of hair behind her ear before slowly walking away, her footsteps crunching in the snow.
"Goodnight, Herald." He wondered if he said it loud enough. In the gust of snow that blew past him, he clutched her scarf closer to his skin. The material was soft. The only scarves he was used to were the ones from his childhood that scratched against his neck in an infuriating way. The calibrations could wait until morning. He could get started on some paperwork for the night. He pulled the scarf over his mouth as he started to walk towards the Chantry. Instantly, a pleasant scent filled his nostrils. It was sweet—vanilla, perhaps? Gwyn. He thought of her smile. The way the corner of her lips twitched, the way her brow often furrowed, causing the scar that rested there to crinkle slightly.
He liked the way she thought of him even when she didn't have to. She brought dinner to his office some nights. She brought back Orlesian chocolate for each of the advisors after leaving Val Royeaux, but only his package included a small pastry and a note assuring him that the one good thing about Orlais was its food. He had snorted at the message but, later, after trying the delicacy, left a small note in her horse's knapsack thanking her. When she came back from the Storm Coast, she never said a word. He paused, looking down at the now empty cup of cocoa. Perhaps a drink at the tavern before bed wouldn't hurt.