Faydren hadn't talked to Cullen outside of War Room meetings since they got to Skyhold – that was a week ago. She wasn't intentionally avoiding him… he just always seemed so busy. Even now, as she watched from the ramparts, he was hunched over plans on a makeshift table in the courtyard while occasionally tossing out orders to various soldiers. Chewing her bottom lip for a moment, she made a decision and walked to the ladder.
When he saw her approaching, Cullen finished giving an order before turning his full attention to her. His expression was pleasant, if distracted. Light played across his eyes, turning them to liquid gold, and the wind rustled his sandy hair gently. Faydren merely stood there for a moment as she realized there wasn't anything specific she wished to speak with him about. Thankfully, the Commander had something to say himself.
"We set up as best we could at Haven, but could never prepare for an Archdemon - or whatever it was," he rubbed the back of his neck, visibly exhausted. "With some warning, we might have..."
"Do you ever sleep?" Faydren asked the question out of concern rather than levity.
"If Corypheus strikes again, we may not be able to withdraw. And I wouldn't want to," he focused on the table once more. "We must be ready. Work on Skyhold is underway. Guard rotations established. We should have everything on course within the week. We will not run from here, Inquisitor."
"How many did we lose at Haven?" The question came unbidden. She'd been afraid to ask anyone for fear of the answer, but at the same time she needed to know.
"Most of our people made it to Skyhold. It could have been worse. Morale was low, but it has improved greatly since you accepted the role of Inquisitor," his mouth curved into a half-smile.
"Everyone has so much faith in my leadership… I hope I'm ready," Faydren's chest tightened any time she thought about it. A lot of people had placed their hopes in her - including the man currently standing next to her.
"You won't have to carry the Inquisition alone. Although it must feel like it..." He faced her again, kind face reassuring. "We needed a leader, and you have proven yourself."
"Thank you, Cullen." He smiled warmly and she realized that may have been the first time she had spoken his first name. She quickly continued. "Our escape from Haven... It was close. I'm relieved that you- that so many made it out."
"As am I," he met her eyes before dropping his gaze uncertainly. The ex-Templar looked uncomfortable and Faydren stared at the ground, mentally kicking herself for saying something wrong. The conversation seemed to be over so she began to leave.
"You stayed behind…" Cullen's voice was quiet and husky. She looked up to find his eyes intense, searching her face. Her breath caught and she froze under the scrutiny – it felt like he could see right through her defenses.
"You could have-" His jaw clenched and he shook his head firmly. "I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again. You have my word."
Faydren breathed normally again as Cullen returned to his work at the table, calling over some waiting soldiers. What was that? Something in the moment was just so… powerful. She had no doubt that he would keep his word if the time came. Maker willing, it never would.
The Inquisitor entered the War Room curiously. Josephine said they had a surprise for her which (knowing them) could mean any number of things. The three advisers were deep in conversation with a trio of mages that she did not recognize. The group turned as she entered and Josephine smiled brightly.
"Oh! You're here!"
"You did request my presence?"
"Yes," Leliana nodded. "We have taken the liberty of inviting some specialists to Skyhold in order to further your skills. You have been doing well, but the Circle doesn't exactly focus on honing combat technique."
"These are powerful mages – not tied to the rebellion – who can offer training."
Brief introductions were made as each instructor stepped forward. There was Commander Helaine, a stern-looking elven Knight-Enchanter; Speaker Viuus Anaxas, a scholarly Mortalitasi with a balding head and scraggly beard; and a wild-eyed blonde woman who insisted her name was 'Your Trainer' and claimed the newly-discovered skills of Rift Mage. The Inquisitor was a tad overwhelmed by this sudden development, but the advisers anticipated as much.
"You can talk with them at greater length later before making your final decision. Only one can be chosen because each takes a degree of skill that would be unattainable if you split your focus."
The trainers bowed and took their leave. Faydren had begun to follow when she heard rushed whispers behind her. Stopping, a look over her shoulder showed Leliana and Josie pushing a flustered Cullen toward her as he awkwardly hid something behind his back.
"Um, Inquisitor," he cleared his throat as she faced him fully. "We, ah, noticed that you were using a rather rudimentary staff, so…"
The Commander paused, swallowing and looking back at the other two who urged him on with shooing gestures. Sighing heavily, he pushed out the rest of the sentence in one breath.
"We had a new one crafted for you I hope it is to your liking."
As he finished speaking, Cullen brought the weapon from behind his back and held it out resting across his palms. Faydren's eyes went wide and her mouth opened in obvious wonder. It was possibly the most beautiful staff she'd ever seen. It was definitely nicer than any that she had owned. She ran a hand reverently along the grip.
The head was an elaborately carved dragon, wings spread as though about to take flight while its claws wrapped protectively around the top. Deep etching swirled delicately along the length of the staff before reaching the base. A sharp, well-balanced blade adorned the bottom with a relief of lightning striking engraved into it. The staff's metal was a silvery green that gained a purple sheen in certain lights, and Faydren could feel the familiar buzz of power at her fingertips. They had even chosen her element.
Finally taking it from Cullen's hands, she practically cradled the weapon before looking up at them with a brilliant smile. They were taken aback. It was strange to see such happiness on her face, and it touched their hearts. The room seemed to grow dimmer when she composed herself, expression returning to normal.
"Thank you all so much. I've never received such a wonderful gift," warmth filled her voice.
"It is the least we could do," Josephine bowed her head, grinning from ear to ear.
"We cannot send our leader to battle with anything but the best. Isn't that right, Commander?" Leliana stepped up next to Cullen and subtly elbowed him. He was staring.
"Of course," he blinked a few times, refocusing. "It was our pleasure, Inquisitor."
The three moved past her to the exit, leaving Faydren alone in the large room. She spent the next hour or so getting comfortable with her new weapon and casting some spells. Josephine made sure nobody bothered her.
Later that evening, Trevelyan sought out the trainers to ask more questions before making her choice. She found the Rift Mage and the Necromancer first. After speaking with them in-depth about their specializations and why each would be fitting for a 'powerful Inquisitor', she found herself no closer to making a decision. Neither of them felt right for her at all, and it was discouraging. These were some of the most skilled mages in all of Thedas – maybe she just wasn't good enough?
Moving through the lower courtyard, she spotted Commander Helaine watching from near the gatehouse. The tall elven woman examined Faydren with calculating eyes. Her brown hair was tied back into a severe bun, and she stood with an air of calm dignity and authority as Trevelyan approached.
"Declare yourself, Inquisitor."
"What do you mean?" The statement confused her.
"I ask your intent. I was summoned to oversee training, and I would know my charge. I am your Commander in this matter."
"I'm not even sure of my own intent, Commander Helaine..."
"'Commander' will suffice, recruit," she seemed to consider her next words carefully. "I teach the skills of the Knight-Enchanter. It is a rank, it is a life. I will teach you how to rise to your place. How to join your warriors, spectral blade in hand. How to command the ranks while standing beside them. Are you ready?"
"I… don't know that I can ever attain what you describe," the younger mage lowered her eyes uncertainly.
"There are no borders for the mage who wields a spectral blade," Helaine said forcefully. "There is respect, and there is fear. Those of our rank earn their place."
"Do you think it possible for me?" Faydren asked, hopeful. Was she capable of these things? She truly couldn't say…
"Only you know if you are fit to lead with more than maps. Do you have the mettle to raise a blade in grand melee? To have your presence make heroes of your charges? This is a path for leaders. You tell me if you are worthy," the Knight-Enchanter went silent – waiting.
To lead… To inspire… That was what she wanted to be for the Inquisition and all its people. They deserved that much from her at least. Setting her jaw with determination, Faydren met the woman's gaze unflinchingly.
"Tell me what I must do."
"Then we will begin the simple steps, recruit. And we shall see what heights you reach."
Helaine seemed to approve as she began giving instructions to her new charge. This was the right choice. The Inquisitor could feel it.
A messenger came by her room midway through the day. The message was vague, but clearly the sender wished to discuss something important and Faydren quickly went to meet them. Knocking gently, she opened the door to Cullen's office. He was leaning over his desk, arms bracing his weight as he looked down at a small box with strange tools sitting inside. Tired eyes met hers when she entered.
"As leader of the Inquisition, you-" he sighed heavily. "There is something I must tell you."
"Whatever it is, I'm willing to listen. You know that," she was concerned by his tone.
"Right… Thank you." He acted surprised, but her response gave him confidence to continue. "Lyrium grants Templars our abilities, but it controls us as well. Those cut off suffer… Some go mad, others die."
Faydren had heard as much before, though she'd never seen the lyrium ingested or what happened if a Templar stopped. It always sounded like a terrible burden. What if they wanted to leave the Order? Start a family? She'd never liked the addiction being a requirement for their job.
"We have secured a reliable source of lyrium for the Templars here, but I... no longer take it," Cullen continued.
"You stopped?" Her heart skipped a beat.
"When I joined the Inquisition. It's been months now." He wouldn't meet her eyes.
"Commander, if this could kill you..." Somehow Faydren kept her voice and expression calm, but her mind was spinning out of control and taking her heart along for the ride. What if he died?
"It hasn't yet," Cullen grumbled. The response was not reassuring. "After what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn't... I will not be bound to the Order – or that life – any longer. Whatever the suffering, I accept it. But I would not put the Inquisition at risk. I've asked Cassandra to... watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty."
Faydren could see and hear his determination. Reckless as it may be, this was extremely important to him. He wanted to be free of it… Who was she to chastise him for that? Cullen was strong. He'd gone this long without, and she hadn't even noticed it affecting him. If this was what he truly wanted, she would support him - no matter what.
"Are you in pain?" The mage asked softly, sadly.
"I can endure it."
"Thank you for telling me. I respect what you're doing," Faydren wanted to help - wanted to take away the pain and all that plagued him. But this would have to do for now.
"Thank you, Inquisitor. The Inquisition's army must always take priority. Should anything happen, I will defer to Cassandra's judgment."
"I would rather it not come to that, Commander. Take care of yourself."
Faydren didn't wait for a response. She gave a respectful nod before exiting. A shaky sigh escaped her once the door was closed. Her hand trembled as she put it against her head. Cullen would be fine. No need to worry over nothing. The Inquisitor strode back into the main building, silently cursing at herself for getting so attached again…
Days went by slowly, and Faydren was getting restless waiting around in Skyhold. The advisers hadn't come up with anything for her to do in a while. She spent most of her time training as a Knight-Enchanter and listening to briefings in the War Room, and it was about to drive her crazy. After spending so much time bored in the Circle, her tolerance for it was practically nonexistent now that the whole world was open to her.
Currently she was walking around the Chantry garden. It was lovely and peaceful, which made it nice for most people. She was only there to see if the stray cat was around. There was a piece of leftover meat in her pocket that she'd been saving. The feline liked to sleep inside some of the shrubs, so that's where the Inquisitor was crouched.
"Gloat all you like, I have this one," Cullen's voice caught her ear from across the garden.
"Are you sassing me, Commander? I didn't know you had it in you," Dorian taunted playfully.
Curious, Faydren made her way out of the bushes and crossed the small courtyard to reach them. The two men sat across from each other at a low stone table with a game board set up on its surface. Both appeared to be enjoying themselves a great deal. It made her happy to see them like that.
"Why do I even... Inquisitor!" The Commander dropped a piece in his rush to stand as he saw her approach.
"Leaving, are you? Does this mean I win?" The Tevinter mage had a devilish grin on his face. Cullen sat back down with a glare.
"Please, don't stop on my account," Faydren reassured. She hadn't seen a game of Archon in months. Eyes taking in the board, she quickly got a grasp of who was winning and a smile tugged at her lips.
"Alright," Cullen steepled his fingers in concentration.
"You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory," Dorian practically oozed self-satisfaction, making his move. "You'll feel much better."
"Really? Because I just won. And I feel fine," Cullen chuckled and relaxed back into his chair with a pleased expression. Dorian's face fell as he looked at the board and Faydren just shook her head.
"Don't get smug. There'll be no living with you," Pavus quipped. He got to his feet and winked at Faydren before heading across the garden. The place was empty now aside from her and Cullen.
"I should return to my duties as well. Unless... you would care for a game?" His eyes were questioning. Was that a hint of hopefulness in his voice?
"Prepare the board, Commander." It had been a long time since she'd played, but Archon wasn't something you forgot. Much to her surprise, Cullen began reminiscing as he rearranged the pieces for a new game.
"As a child, I played this with my sister. She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won – which was all the time," he chuckled.
"My brother and I practiced together for weeks! The look on her face the day I finally won..." His eyes crinkled with amusement, but he continued his task.
"Between serving the Templars and the Inquisition, I haven't seen them in years. I wonder if she... still plays," his voice trailed off as he became thoughtful.
"You have siblings?"
This was news to her. For some reason she had assumed he had no family, or at least nobody he was close to. But it sounded like he missed them. Why wouldn't he have visited?
"Two sisters and a brother," he responded easily, settling himself in the chair now that the board was set.
"Where are they now?"
"They moved to South Reach after the Blight. I do not write to them as often as I should…"
Faydren studied him carefully for a moment. He'd been a good brother - there was no doubt in her mind. She wondered what his family was like. They must miss him terribly…
The match began in earnest with both players focusing intently. Occasionally one or the other would toss out a random comment, or remark on an interesting move choice, but comfortable silence reigned.
"This may be the longest we've gone without discussing the Inquisition - or related matters," Cullen mused. "To be honest, I appreciate the distraction."
"We should spend more time together," the words slipped out, and she found that she meant them.
"I would... like that," he grinned widely, though he was obviously surprised. His honey-colored eyes stayed locked on her for a moment before he continued softly. "We should... finish our game. Right? My turn?"
Faydren focused on two things during that game: the board, and Cullen. When not planning a move, she found herself distracted by the scar above his lip, the stray lock of sandy hair falling across his forehead, the way his brow wrinkled while he was thinking… The man was distracting. It was a good thing though, because Faydren wasn't sure she could have made it through otherwise. And she did so want to stay for him… He seemed so happy and relaxed while they played.
"I believe this one is yours. Well played," Cullen said amiably as he leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. It was true. The game was close, but she'd pulled through in the end. "We shall have to try again sometime."
Faydren's head was down so that he couldn't see her face as she fought back the sudden tears. She'd won the last time she played too... Against Darius. She enjoyed hearing about Cullen's family, but it also reminded her of what she'd lost. With her mind focused on him and the game, it was easy to push aside those feelings. Now that it was over? Her heart ached. Standing up quickly and turning away, she mumbled a response to his offer and barely kept herself from running back to her room.
She did want to play Archon with him again. Maybe next time, the pain would be a little less...
The sun was beginning to set, but Cullen remained glued to the reports on his desk. The Inquisition was making progress. The amount of support and recruits they'd received after Haven was staggering, but somehow they were managing it all. The door opened and he glanced up expecting to see another messenger. What he did not expect was to see the Inquisitor standing there, violet-ringed eyes uncertain as she cleared her throat. Her outfit consisted of plain leather breeches and a loosely fitted shirt. Simple, but she wore it well.
"Good evening, Commander," she shifted her feet nervously.
"Inquisitor," Cullen straightened. He hadn't seen her since the day of their Archon match, and he still felt guilty. The mage was so distressed when she left that he must have done something to upset her. For a moment he considered bringing it up, but decided against for fear of scaring her away again.
"I- wanted to ask you..." She was so nervous that he began to worry something terrible was coming.
"Yes?" He braced himself.
"Will you spar with me?" Faydren said the words so fast it took a moment for them to register. She looked relieved to have gotten them out at all.
"Spar with you?" Cullen blinked at her in shock. "I thought you were training with Commander Helaine?"
"I have been. She suggested I try my skills against warriors other than her though since there are so many different fighting techniques. I've barely had any experience at all against a shield."
"And... you're asking me?" There were so many other available options; it came as a huge surprise that she would choose him. Especially after he had been so concerned she was upset.
"Oh. I just thought... You're probably busy. It's alright, I can find someone else," she reached for the door.
"No!" The shout surprised even him, but he saw her pause. "I was just caught off guard. Of course I will assist with your training, however I can."
Faydren's face was grateful as she turned back to him. He'd managed to make his reasoning sound official, but really he was just looking forward to another reason to spend time with her. The thought was strange, but not unwelcome.
They decided to meet for sparring on the second floor of the stables. Partly to avoid prying eyes, and also because the straw made for a more cushioned fall if the need arose. Cullen had changed into comfortable clothes much more similar to what Faydren was wearing.
He gripped his sword and shield easily, as though they were merely an extension of himself - he'd used them long enough that sometimes it felt like it. Normally he would use the wooden swords and shields for practice, but the Inquisitor had insisted he use the real ones. She wasn't sure how the wood might fare against her weapon.
As she stood across from him, he couldn't help but be curious – where was her weapon? She held the new staff in her right hand, but it was clearly only there to get used to while fighting. Then his gaze caught what looked like an empty hilt in her left hand. Was that it?
"Are you ready?" Faydren questioned, eyes taking on an intensity he hadn't seen in a while.
"Let us begin," he took up a defensive stance.
With a nod, she dropped low and Cullen watched closely as a glowing golden blade roughly the size of a claymore manifested from the hilt. Despite the size, it couldn't have weighed much because she held it without effort. And then she was swinging it toward him in a wide arc.
The ex-Templar was able to block the blow with little trouble, though the force it connected with sent a ringing vibration through his shield. Faydren was obviously used to her swings being dodged rather than blocked, because the rebound caught her off balance and she stumbled. He tossed out a few pointers and had her try again.
Eventually they were trading a constant flurry of blows back and forth. Cullen had only seen the Inquisitor fight a couple of times before, and had never watched closely – they were in the middle of battles after all. Now, he was able to appreciate the graceful fluidity of her movements as she struck, dodged, and parried. It was like watching a dance to which only she knew the steps.
The Circle may not have taught her how to fight, but it seemed they didn't really need to. Her instincts were surprisingly good and she was a quick learner. It was almost as though she'd been born for battle. The same had been said of him before, and its truth had proved to be both a blessing and a curse – those born for battle often find it thrust upon them.
Cullen wasn't sure how long they'd been at it, but both of them were breathing hard now and sweat dripped down the side of Faydren's face. She looked tired but pleased. The companionship had been a welcome distraction, and he got the feeling neither of them wanted to stop.
Shaking his head with a grin, he took his stance one more time and began slowly circling. He caught a twinkle in her eye as she summoned her blade and matched his pacing. The boards were creaking under their feet as they moved, and Faydren lunged at him.
Then something unexpected happened – with a crack, the wood under Cullen's right foot caved and his boot shot through the hole. His defenses dropped as he tried to keep from falling over.
Realizing with alarm that he couldn't block her attack, Cullen looked up in time to see a panicked expression on the Inquisitor's face before the golden blade vanished mere inches from his chest. Faydren's momentum had not slowed though and she slammed into him with enough force to knock them both to the floor with a crash.
The Commander opened his golden eyes and found himself staring directly into a pair of startled silver ones. Faydren was on top of him, hands between them on his chest, and face close enough that he could feel her breath. They both appeared to be fine except for any bruises that may show up later, but for the moment they just lay there in stunned silence.
"Are you two alright? That didn't sound good," Blackwall stomped up the stairs. A slow grin grew on the bearded man's face when he saw their predicament. "My mistake. I'll leave you to it then."
Cullen saw a slight flush begin to creep up her neck, and his ears burned. Faydren pushed off from him like she was on fire and scrambled to her feet. He stumbled up as well and they talked over each other trying to explain what had just happened. Blackwall chuckled and reassured them that he understood before returning down to work on his carving.
"Well..." Cullen coughed when they were alone again. "I suppose we're done for the night then."
"Yes, you're probably right," she agreed reluctantly.
"Although... We could get some refreshment at the tavern? I'm certainly thirsty," he offered, watching her reaction carefully.
"That sounds like a good idea," Faydren said with a hint of relief.
The two went downstairs and headed to the tavern, chatting amiably about how they thought the sparring went and possible improvements for next time – like a sturdier floor.
Varric had been catching up on his writing lately with all the free time, but now he was taking a break in the tavern. A good thing too, since he wouldn't have missed seeing this for the world – Faydren and Cullen had just walked through the door. Together.
They were both wearing casual clothing, and their sweaty faces told him there was some sort of physical exertion involved in whatever they'd been doing. Varric knew better than to assume it was that, so he decided on combat training instead.
Faydren spotted him across the room and waved, tapping Cullen's shoulder and pointing. The Commander nodded a hello at Varric then said something to the mage and gestured to the bar. She responded before splitting off and coming over to the dwarf's table, plopping down in an empty chair.
"Fancy seeing you here, Stormcloud," Varric grinned. "Been busy I see?"
"Practicing with my spirit blade," she explained. If she caught his underlying meaning, it didn't show. Damn.
Cullen made his way over with two mugs of ale and set one in front of Faydren before sitting down. The dwarf thought about pulling out a similar comment for the bashful Templar, but it would be too easy. This was definitely getting filed away for later use however.
The three of them chatted and drank for the better part of an hour. It was rare to see Faydren so content, and Varric had no doubt that it was directly related to the smiling sandy-haired gentleman beside her. Cullen seemed a lot better around her as well. Now if the two of them would just see that…
"What might be going on over here?" A chipper voice cut in as Dorian approached the table, smiling hugely.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say the Commander is enjoying himself," Iron Bull strode over as well.
"Good thing you know better then," Cullen said drily.
The Qunari laughed and clapped Cullen on the back hard enough that he nearly spilled his drink. Faydren motioned for the new arrivals to stay, and Dorian produced a deck of cards from his robes as he took a seat. The conversation was light and fun as they played a casual game. The hour was late indeed before the Commander got reluctantly to his feet.
"If I hope to get anything done tomorrow, I'd best retire for the evening," he sighed.
"I should go as well," Faydren stood. "Josephine may kill me if I fall asleep in one of her meetings again…"
"You didn't!" Dorian chuckled. She nodded sheepishly.
"Thank you for your assistance this evening, Commander." Varric wondered if she realized how bright her smile was when she spoke to him. The rest of them only got glimmers most of the time.
"Of course," Cullen replied warmly. "I'm willing to help any time you like, Inquisitor."
Varric made note of the fact that Curly didn't take his eyes off her all the way to the door. He smiled and shook his head. Those two might even be worse at this than Aveline and Donnic. Then again, they hadn't even realized the truth themselves yet.
Dorian dealt a new hand of cards and barely waited a full turn before speaking what had clearly been on his mind for a while. He cleared his throat.
"So, is it just me or are those two-?"
"Yep," Bull and Varric answered in unison, not bothering to look up from their cards.
"And neither of them has-?"
"Nope," they chorused.
"How curious..." Dorian stroked his mustache.
"Not as strange as you'd think, Sparkler," Varric finally glanced up, taking a swig from his mug. "You've got two romantic novices, both with enough painful baggage to fill Isabela's cargo hold, and an intense fear of being hurt again."
"Well when you put it that way..."
"Have you noticed that they only address each other by title?" Bull played a card, chuckling.
"I was hoping that was just a matter of timing on my part," Dorian groaned. "You've never heard them use first names?"
"Not once," Varric found the Tevinter's distress highly amusing.
"Venhedis, this is painful…" He slumped across the table, triggering hearty laughter at his dramatics. "I hate you both."
The words were said without heat as Dorian began to laugh right along with them. Varric marveled at the fact that he'd somehow found himself with a group of great people yet again. Things weren't perfect in Kirkwall, but he still missed those times with his friends. Things were even less perfect now, yet they could still find humor and good company.
Aside from some eerily similar physical traits, Hawke and Stormcloud weren't much alike – but they did both have a way of drawing people to them. Uncommon people too. Who would have thought he'd be drinking and laughing with a Tevinter mage and a Qunari spy? Especially after being close friends with an escaped Tevinter slave and a pirate who stole from the Qunari. The irony was not lost on him.
This draw was just a small part of what made both women special though. He smiled. Other traits were just harder to put into words. Speaking of Hawke… Varric wondered if she'd gotten his letter yet.