A/N: This is something that came to me last night and I just couldn't stop. I'm rather surprised I got this much written in less than twenty-four hours. I'm the only one to proof-read this so if there are any grammatical mistakes, I'm sorry.
I loved the romance in Dragon Age: Inquisition with Cullen, but I have also enjoyed reading many of the fanfiction writers that have written stories with a Cullen/Circle mage romance. I was so excited to see many familiar faces from Origins but sad that the only thing about the Warden was a letter. So I kept thinking, what if Cullen was in love with Surana? What if they encountered each other in Kirkwall during the events of Dragon Age II? What if Surana becomes caught up in the events in Dragon Age: Inquisition? So this is my AU take on how this would occur.
If you have any constructive criticism, or comments, please leave me a review. I love to hear from my readers! Enjoy!
I do not own anything Dragon Age. They belong to Bioware.
1/22/16 Edit: Adding character perspective headings. Proof-read.
4/15/18 Edit: Rewriting of portions to coincide with future chapters.
11/3/19 Edit: Rewriting portions to coincide with future chapters
Cullen Rutherford, The Commander
"O Maker, hear my cry:
Guide me through the blackest nights
Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked
Make me to rest in the warmest places."
Cullen paced in the small office space, clutching tightly to the worn lyrium-infused silver ring he always carried with him. It was a simple silver band, a gift to mages when they completed their Harrowing successfully. He thumbed the small engraving inside, the words now fading after years of constant wear. He did not need to see the words to know what they said. "My hearth is yours, my bread is yours, my life is yours," a passage from the chant that was not often spoken.
The sun had set the reds and blues creating a unique view from the snow-peaked mountains. The room he had claimed as his office nearly a month ago was dimly lit with candles from his desk and the candelabras surrounding the stone room, giving little warmth to the drafty roof. He repeated a small portion of the Chant of Light again for the fifth time, pleading for clarity and peace. He had been praying since he had read the mysterious letter now discarded on the mahogany desk, wax dripping onto the parchment where the candle rested next to it. It had arrived this morning unmarked, only a coin with Andraste's face, a small vial with dark red, almost black liquid hung on a silver chain was in the missive. The chain was broken as if it was torn from the owner's neck.
After opening the letter, he had demanded answers from every mail carrier within Skyhold, his irritation marked in his stance and voice. Where had the letter come from? Who sent it? What did it mean?
"O Creator, see me kneel:
For I walk only where You would bid me
Stand only in places You have blessed
Sing only the words You place in my throat."
The coin had been a gift from his brother, Branson the night before he joined the Templars as a teenager. He had carried it within him during his templar training, his time in Kinloch Hold as well as in Kirkwall, a total of eleven years. It was five years ago that he had given his lucky coin to another, a friend he had thought he had lost in the Fifth Blight. The vial belonged to her, a reminder of an oath she had made.
"She has to be okay. She's always okay. She always returns," he muttered under his breath, grabbing the paper that had held the prized coin. Perhaps he would see something, anything that would give him a clue as to his friend's whereabouts.
His friend was a mage of great skill. He had first met her in Kinloch Tower, a lithe elf with dark hair and amber eyes that reminded him of the gemstones the elder mages used to study different magic. She was an apprentice who had a knack in primal arts and arcane spells. Enchanter Irving had taken her in as a young child, honing her skills to hopefully take his place one day within the circle. Fate, however, had a different plan. She would be conscripted into the Grey Wardens the day after she had passed her Harrowing and become Ferelden's Hero, defeating the Fifth Blight in only a year.
He remembered that day clearly, the day she had first left him.
"My Maker, know my heart
Take from me a life of sorrow
Lift me from a world of pain
Judge me worthy of Your endless pride."
Her face in complete shock, shackled and held in place by two templars. She had been charged with aiding and abetting a blood mage, the punishment of death or Tranquility. Before the decision could be made, the Grey Warden Commander had conscripted the young mage.
Cullen had been ordered to escort her through the tower to collect the few items that belonged to the mage. She pulled the small box from under a bed she had never slept in, opening it with a twist of her wrist. Her prized possessions were a ring given to her after her Harrowing, a small leathered journal, and a carved piece of wood resembling the Dalish elves prived animal, the halla.
"Ashiva," he whispered, unsure what else to say other than her name. The mage had been one of his charges but also welcomed the company on the long night watches in the library where they would play chess together. The tower wouldn't be the same without her quiet warmth.
Ashiva looked up, a mixture of emotions in her amber eyes. Guilt, confusion, pain, and relief painted her face. Knowing that this was his last chance to say something to her, it felt as if a knife had been plunged into his heart. Eerily, the feeling reminded him of only the night before where he was prepared to pierce her heart if she had failed her Harrowing.
She sat on the stone floor, staring at her surroundings. "What is life outside the Circle like?"
Cullen blinked, startled by the question. "What?"
"I was brought here as a child, the last memory I had was of the smoke and flames surrounding me when I woke up," she explained. "All I know is the tower. How am I going to survive out there, alone?"
It wasn't his place to comfort her. He was a templar and she a mage that had committed a crime. This hadn't been her choice, but rather fate made her stumble upon the dark and tainted path. He stepped forward, his gloved hand patting her shoulder awkwardly. "The Maker will watch over you, Ashiva Surana."
She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears and uncertainty. They said nothing else. His hand fell from her shoulder and he followed out of the small room down the hallway where the Grey Warden stood waiting. She followed him out of the tower and never turned back.
"My Creator, judge me whole:
Find me well within Your grace
Touch me with fire that I be cleansed
Tell me I have sung to Your approval."
Then she had appeared again at his darkest hour, a nightmare he preferred to forget, but often haunted by nonetheless. Cullen had heard the tragic news about Ostagar. If there was a remote chance she had lived, it had been replaced with the rumors.
No survivors. King Cailan dead. The Wardens failed.
There was no time for the rumors to spread before Uldred and his blood mages attacked Kinloch Tower. Cullen had fought through the tower before being imprisoned at the top with several of his brothers in arms. There he watched as one by one, they all fell to the demons lies and deception or killed by the abominations. He pressed his armored gloves to his ears in vain, whispering the chant until his voice was hoarse. He would not be corrupted.
"You broke the others but I will stay strong for my sake...for theirs… Sifting through my thoughts...tempting me with the one thing I always wanted but could never have...Using my shame against me...my ill-advised infatuation with her...a mage of all things."
The mage was more than the apprentice he had once played chess within the comforting candlelight. She was a Grey Warden now. She held a dagger in her right hand, her staff in the other. Blood was splattered on her light armor, but it was still her. Cullen would recognize this elf from anywhere. She had rushed into the room where he was imprisoned with three other companions. A dog, a red-headed woman and a tall armored man wielding a sword and shield that reminded him faintly of the deceased King Calenhad. Cullen had thought she was of the fade, another temptress to seduce him from his vows. He had treated her poorly, remembering those bright amber eyes glazed over with unshed tears. He had nearly broken her, just as he had been. She defeated Uldred, freeing the tower.
"I am beyond caring what you think! The Maker knows my sin and I pray he will forgive me. When you knew me, I was an innocent. I wanted to be a knight, but I never really thought about why we are needed. Now, my eyes have been opened. The naivete I once had is gone forever. But I welcome the change as long as it helps me better serve the Chantry. You are a mage, and I a templar. It is my duty to oppose you and all that you are."
It was apparent on her face that she no longer felt welcomed in this place that was once her home. Her shoulders slumped, she turned away and didn't come back.
"O Maker, hear my cry:
Seat me by Your side in death
Make me one within Your glory
And let the world once more see Your favor."
He didn't believe he would see her again. He heard of her travels. The Mage Warden appointed a new king to Orzammar. She had saved Redcliffe from the undead, recovered the Sacred Ashes of Andraste and healed Arl Eamon. She had broken the curse on werewolves in the Bracellian forest. She built armies from the ashes and defeated the Archdemon on top of Fort Drakon. The stories seemed intangible. Cullen remembered hearing again of Ashiva by the new Templar recruits, mumbling curses.
"The queen appointed the knife ear mage as Chancellor! How can that be possible?"
"The queen gave Vigil's Keep to the Wardens. She appointed the mage as Arlessa of Amaranthine What is the world coming to?"
He soon transferred to Kirkwall and began a new life. It wasn't until the Qunari rebelled that she stumbled back into his life. He was ordering the templars near the docks to protect the merchants and civilians around the area when he saw the tail of silver and blue armor. She wielded a sword that glowed like starlight, lightning striking her opponent. Raven hair clung to her forehead, her face scrunched like it always had when she was concentrating on the magic within her. Her opponent fell unconscious before her gaze fell on him, an uncertain smile on her scarlet-colored lips. That night, he didn't let her leave without a word.
"Cullen?"
She lowered her sword, sheathing it in the holster attached to her hip. Ashiva walked cautiously towards him, waved her hand, a gesture for the wardens at her side to step away. Her black hair was braided, blowing on the sea breeze. Despite being tied back, he noticed her hair was longer than he recalled, falling below her shoulder blades. She cradled her injured left hand, amber eyes watching him with interest. Even covered in sweat and a blood smear on her cheek, she was still radiant.
The last time he saw the Warden mage she had purged the tower of demons and blood mages that had taken the tower hostage. Too long ago, but not long enough. He had so many questions for her. Did she remember him fondly or with remorse? What was she doing wielding a blade and not a staff? Why were Ferelden Wardens doing here in the Free Marches?
"Ashiva? What...what are you doing here?" He grimaced. Out of all the things he could say or do, that was the first thing he could think of?
She smiled mischievously, looking around her surroundings near the docks. "Oh you know, investigating Grey Warden secrets," she answered with mirth. "It seems no matter where I go, trouble tends to find me. Of course the night we arrive, the Qunari decided to eradicate the city."
Cullen failed to hide the smirk forming on his lips. "No rest for the wicked. Even after all these years, you still find yourself in the middle of chaos."
"So it seems," her face darkened. She looked at the wardens around her, before turning back to him. "I used to know a Qunari. He fought with me in the blight. It seems foolish that they would attack the city now. They will only cause war in the Free Marches."
He agreed with her. They had lived relatively in peace for years with the Qunari. Why would they attack now? Perhaps he would learn soon enough. "I could use your help to push towards the center of Hightown."
"Commander, we can't involve ourselves in this," a warden spoke up, notching an arrow in his quiver.
Sighing, Ashiva tilted her gaze back to the templar remorseful. "Nathaniel's right. We were separated from the other wardens and need to find them and return to our own mission. It was nice to see you, Cullen. Stay safe."
Ashiva walked briskly away, calling out orders to her soldiers. Cullen watched, the dark cloak around her shoulders moving with each step. He remembered the moment she had walked away from him in the circle; how he regretted everything he had said and done. He wouldn't let her leave until he had his say. Talking three long strides, he caught her wrist, disrupting her shouts.
"Ashiva," he started, a loss for words. "I-I...thank you."
He didn't realize how cold her eyes had been until that moment. She looked down, her injured hand absently brushing the loose tendrils from her face. "Thanks are not necessary. It's my duty to help those in need."
He let her go. "May the Maker watch over you, Ashiva," he whispered the prayer only her ears could hear.
She placed her hand on his shoulder, magic flowing within him. He recognized the spell, a shield to protect him from incoming attacks. Their eyes meet for a moment, before they parted their separate ways.
"And you, Cullen."
It wasn't enough, but he finally was able to thank her. Thank her for protecting the city of Kirkwall, and for saving his life years ago in the circle. He was able to thank her for saving the templars she could, and protecting the mages that were innocent, even if he had believed they were all evil.
"For You are the fire at the heart of the world
And comfort is only Yours to give."
He gripped the ring tighter in his grasp. Work within the Inquisition had kept his mind busy from wandering into these memories that centered around her. The Inquisition had given him purpose away from the Templars. He commanded troops and advised Inquisitor Trevelyan in tactics. He enjoyed it mostly, assisting young men and women to wield the blade of a righteous cause. Cullen would often write to Warden-Commander Ashiva Surana, thinking soon she would reply once she received them. He knew she was busy and once she was finished with her mission, she would return.
He prayed for her safe journey back every night and the loneliness that fastened to him in the coldest nights would vanish. Her smile would warm his darkest thoughts. Her touch would heal the desperate need for his lyrium addictions. Now though, peering at the coin his heart dropped and the hope extinguished like a fire suffocating without oxygen.
He had gifted her the coin when he had sailed from Kirkwall to visit his mother and siblings. He had stayed several nights in Amaranthine at the Warden's request before trekking farther south to Redcliffe.
"I'll keep it safe," she had promised in the firelight, clasping it close to her heart. "It shall always be with me, close to my heart."
Seeing the coin and vial now on his desk, made an unspoken fear become a reality. How long ago had she been apart from this cherished necklace? Was she still alive or had she passed from this world to another?
Grabbing the parchment and necklace, Cullen shoved the door to the ramparts open, marching with purpose. Soldiers, spies, and mages alike left a wide berth around him, fearing the Commander's wrath. The night air was crips, a familiar feel from being raised in Ferelden. He took the steps two at a time onto the frozen ground, striding through the practice dummies to the building that had been designated the local Tavern. Stepping into the large building, he could smell the wood-burning fire, ale and smoked hog. Laughter and the sound of lute being played by a bard filled the air. From his vantage point, he saw the Iron Bull and his company, Varric, and the infamous Champion of Kirkwall sitting around a table, telling the wild exploits of Gavin Hawke. Lady Trevelyan sat at the bar with Sera, her cheeks red from the alcohol .
On the second floor, he found the man he sought, sitting alone, feet propped on the table in front of him. Warden Alistair Therin was a lover of cheese and ale. He was an expert swordsman that had trained first as a templar before joining the Grey Wardens. With his help, Ashiva wouldn't have been able to defeat the archdemon. Although his quirks annoyed the Commander, Cullen hoped the Warden could shed light on the mage's whereabouts.
The stairs creaked under his leather boots, alerting the marabi sitting at the warden's feet. Fenrir was Ashiva's loyal Marabi that had followed her since Ostagard had fallen. Despite his years, the hound was observant and extremely intelligent. Fenrir's tiny tail wagged happily at his arrival, expecting a treat. Cullen scratch the dog's ears lightly, verbally promising the war hound a turkey leg once the waitress came by.
"I wasn't expecting to see you around so soon. I hear you're rather important in these parts, Commander," the Warden mused, raising the mug of Antivan brandy in greeting before draining the drink. "Leading a damn army across Ferelden and Orlais, I think you earned yourself a drink."
Cullen glowered at the swordsman, sitting across from him. "Enough small talk," he barked. "Might I remind you that you gave me your word that you would keep her safe. Where is she?"
Alistair placed the mug down, the Commander's irritation not phasing his lazy mannerisms . "She's with Nathaniel, far from all of this Corypheus shit. Ash is the lucky one, sailing the seas and probably trying some new exotic cheese."
The Commander grimaced at the familiarity the Warden said her name. Even in Kirkwall he had heard the ballads and stories of the blossoming romance of the remaining two Ferelden Wardens. He had asked the mage one about the stories and songs and she had sighed, glancing out towards the Amaranthine sea.
"I loved him once," she admitted solemnly. "A small part of me still does, but as with many relationships, decisions and duty broke us apart. I trust him with my life, but not with my heart."
Cullen placed the necklace on the table, watching the ex-templar's eyes widen, his hand touching the small vial in reverence. Alistair swore under his breath, the mug sliding off the table when he abruptly stood up. "Where did you get this?"
"I found it on my desk this morning in an unmarked missive. No letter, just the necklace," he answered. "What does it mean?"
"Nothing good," Alistair replied. "Ash wouldn't take this off willingly. She takes her oaths very seriously."
"Is there any way to reach out to her? To Nathaniel or anyone else that could know her whereabouts?"
The marabi tilted his head, whimpering aloud. Cullen reached over, scratching the war hound by the ears to comfort him. He had been Ashiva's companion since the blight. She refused to take him with her on this journey, fearing for Fenriri's safety.
Alistair, scratched the scruff on his chin. "Vigil's Keep is empty, the Ferelden Wardens dust in the wind after the Orlesian Wardens attacked the keep. If there is a chance I could reach out to Nathaniel, it would be through the old beacon on Soldier's Keep," he thought aloud. "I tried before I arrived at Crestwood with no response. I assumed they were out of reach."
Silence fell between the duo. Alistair order another drink, Cullen ordered a turkey leg and a whiskey. Fenrir groomed his paws under the table, whimpering softly. When the drinks arrived, the former Knight-Captain twirled the wooden mug.
"Do you still have her phylactery," Alistair asked suddenly.
The Commander stiffened. "How did you-"
The Warden interrupted him waving his hand. "Lelianna told me you entered the service of the Inquisition in exchange for Ashy's privacy and phylactery. How very noble of you."
It was true. She had come in the night in the pouring rain, frightened the seekers had sought her. Despite being at odds with one another, she only trusted him, seeking his aid. He did what he could, but in the end bargained with the Spymaster for the warden mage's freedom from politics. Days later Seeker Pentagast stormed the Gallows, furious that a phylactery could be misplaced. Cullen found the missing item within his personal items when he packed his belongings to leave for Ferelden.
"So the phylactery, it still glows red right," Alistair asked.
Cullen took a sip, nodding. "It was the first thing I checked after receiving the missive. She still lives, Maker willing." He pulled the magical tool from his pocket, the red liquid seeming to glow in the soft lighting in the room. "I assume that you remember your training on how to use it."
Rolling his eyes, the warden took the phylactery in his hands, closing his eyes to concentrate on the training they both shared. While Cullen had completed his training as a templar, Alistair had not taken all the vows necessary. Regardless, the warden had the necessary skills to use and track a mage using the phylactery.
"I feel a tug towards the west and heat radiating off my armor," he thought out loud.
"I felt the same when I touched the glass," Cullen confirmed. "I believe you need to search the Western Approach first. If I could, I would do this myself but my role here within the Inquisition does not allow me this luxury. I'm trusting you to find her and return her back in one piece. Find her at all cost."
The swordsman's hands trembled, placing the glass vial within a hidden pocket in the blue warden armor. Alistair's eyes glazed over, his eyes distant. A bitter smile curved on his lips. "She always loved you. Even when we...she always loved you."
And I her. "I will send my best men with you to assist in whatever you need."
Sighing, Alistair scratched the stubble on his chin in thought. "Hawke and I will leave tomorrow to scout ahead. I'll see what I can find out," he stood up, twisting his neck until there was a loud pop. "So, just to let you know, I'm doing this for her."
"I'm well aware of where your devotions lie," Cullen replied.
King Maric's bastard son grinned, finally looking like the young warden he had met long ago. "If you'll excuse me, I really want to get a chance to have a restful night sleep dreaming of darkspawn and ancient darkspawn magisters bringing back the Blight. Come Fen, our beauty rest awaits."
Cullen watched the warden and Marabi leave, before leaving the way he came. He loathed the Grey Warden's dreams. There had been many nights when Ashiva woke in the night, screaming and gasping for breath. Sometimes she would talk, confessing the gruesome nightmares of death and carnage. Many times she remained silent, leaving the room for fresh air and to gaze up at the starry sky.
"Ash, darling, where are you," he silently whispered, leaning against the stone ramparts, looking past the Frostback Mountains.
Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to imagine her smile, her laughter for a moment longer, imagining the smell of cinnamon and pine that seem to linger on her. Exhaling, he opened his eyes, his mind clearing from the anguish and desperation to find her. There would be a time to dwell on it later.
The back of his head pulsed and hands shaky. He'd been irritable with his soldiers on the training guards, his tongue lashing out on their lackadaisical use for a blade. He read through the letters from dignitaries and reports from his officers in the field. He wrote notes within the margins, things he would need to discuss with the Inquisitor within the war room.
"Commander, do you have a moment," the noble voice rang sweetly. Cullen raised his head from the mountain of paperwork.
Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan was young, spirited, and a gifted archer. Her noble family had strong ties to the Ostwick chantry, where she was encouraged to begin her training as a templar. Like a cat, she nimbly moved into his space, perching on the windowsill that had a view of outside the keep, her blue eyes staring intently at the window behind him. Her ash blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun small pieces cascading around her honey-colored skin, her smile light and distant . Since their first encounter in Haven, Evelyn had endeared herself to him, befriending him, with the slightest hint of flirting. She was someone Cullen could trust to lead the Inquisition and his troops into battle. Although she was a fine warrior and an attractive woman, the former templar couldn't help wishing he saw amber eyes, ivory skin a teasing smile and ebony hair.
"What can I do for you, Inquisitor?"
"I saw you at the tavern last night, speaking with the Warden," Evelyn stated. "I wasn't aware you two were acquainted."
Cullen shrugged his heavy armored shoulders, pushing a pile of reports to the side. "He fought alongside the Hero of Ferelden when Kinloch tower was attacked by blood mages. Since then we have encountered each other several times."
The Inquisitor pursed her lips, eyebrows knitting together in thought. Cullen had already told her about his past as a templar in the Circle of Magi. Having been trained to join the templars before the chantry exploded, Evelyn found some comradery with him. She leaped off the stone window perch, moving to prop her hip against his desk in front of him. "I have overheard soldiers and messengers mention you've been in a fouler mood than usual since yesterday. You also seemed tense during the meeting. If the warden is bother you, or has ill intentions, please tell me and I will send him away.," she declared, face serious.
"Forgive me, Lady Inquisitor, I have a lot on my mind. You needn't worry about the warden's intentions. He is a good man despite his annoying demeanor," Cullen answered. "We were only discussing the whereabouts of a mutual friend. I thought perhaps he might know or be able to assist in reaching our friend."
Evelyn nodded in thought. "I see," she whispered. "I was not aware that you were searching for someone, Commander."
Tensing, Cullen looked up. Blue eyes stared back at him, but not with the speculation he feared. Evelyn was concerned, eyes wide searching his. It was quiet moments like this that reminded him that Lady Trevelyan was indeed human and not some mystical being. Yes, she had titles that would make a nobleman tremble, but she felt and bleed like the rest of them. The Hero of Ferelden too was a heavy title Ashiva carried with grace many didn't possess, especially an eleven mage. The Commander wondered how these two strong women were able to keep themselves together with such weighty titles.
"Inquisitor, it is a new development that I am still looking into. I, well, umm...cannot tell you everything right now," he stuttered. "I mean, I want to, but not until I have more information on this matter."
Her eyes crinkled, a mischievous smirk revealing itself in the curve of her lips. "Always a stickler for the details, I see. I was really hoping to hear the drama between you two. I thought maybe it had to do with a love triangle or something that only Varric could possibly write."
She didn't see how his face flushed and his hands tightened on the desk. She sighed. "I guess it will have to wait for another day. Anything else to report, Commander?"
"I'm glad you decided to join me before you left," Cullen replied, filling Ashiva's glass before sitting himself.
"You didn't leave me much choice Knight-Captain. You tracked me throughout Kirkwall to this shit hole of an inn," she said sarcastically.
The elven mage smiled nervously, swishing the Orlesian wine. Her blue and silver armor was clean, polished after weeks of battle in the deep roads. Her face was solemn and dark. Being this close to her, he saw new wrinkles on her forehead and cheeks. Were they laugh marks or had the years been so dreadful, she no longer smiled and laughed as she had done as an apprentice mage?
"Regardless, it's nice to be able to sit and enjoy some pleasantries in life, even if it is only for a short time," she added, sipping the wine slowly. "And this tastes better than the swine Oghren insists we drink while we play Diamondback."
Cullen snickered. "I will take that as a compliment of my taste in drinks."
She rolled her eyes. "Anything is better than what that dwarf drinks," she retorted with a snort.
The Hanged Man was quieter than usual. He recognized some familiar faces, the dwarf Hawke befriended, the pirate who shamelessly flirted with him, and the Dalish elf that he had suspicions about. He wasn't surprised the apostate warden hadn't shown up. It was like the mage had a sixth sense when it came to Templars. He wondered if Ashiva knew Anders was a Grey Warden and that he was here in Kirkwall. That topic probably wasn't a good way to start a conversation. Taking a large drink, he felt the ale burn as it went down, praying for discernment and at least something to talk about.
Fortunately for him, Ashiva ended the silence. "I was summoned to the Circle a year after the Blight to assists with the research of the darkspawn and the taint. I worked alongside several mages and a dwarf to find a way to cleanse the blighted lands near the Kokori Wilds and several other locations in Ferelden that were affected greatly from the Blight. Gregoir informed me you were no longer there but had transferred to Kirkwall."
The Templar sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "There were too many ghosts there. Too many memories I wished to forget."
"I see. I'm sorry, I wish I had been there sooner. Maybe if I had…"
"If you had, you could have been killed with the other mages," Cullen interrupted harshly, looking at her directly. He hated seeing her look so broken. "Ashiva, I hate to rehash the past, but what happened can't be undone. And what I said to you in there can't be forgiven. I hated mages then, and although I can say I do not hate all mages, I still struggle to trust them. But I never hated you, no matter what I might had said back then. You saved me from the demons that haunted me and saved my life and the lives of many others. I could never thank you enough for that...and I hope one day you could forgive me in my weakest moments. What I said to you then…"
A warm hand moved to cover his armored glove, quieting him. "Cullen, what happened to you was appalling. I couldn't have expected you to think clearly after the weeks of torture you endured, much less take judgment on your vile words. I was upset, yes, for many months, but I learned to see from another perspective, and I slowly forgave you."
Her smile was gentle, her eyes glittered like the stars in the sky. He could feel his stomach fluttered, old feelings seeming to return. Feeling bold, he twisted his wrist, claiming her hand in his. "I...that's good to hear."
They stared at each other for some time. He couldn't help but wonder about the events in their lives. What if he had not joined with the Templar Order? Would he have met her? Would he be able to act on his feelings? What if she were not a mage? Would she be with the Grey Wardens now? Or would she have fallen to the Blight? He looked at their hands, his lightly holding her smaller hand. Her skin was darker now, sun kissed from the many days she traveled in the outdoors. Cullen felt the calluses on her lithe fingers from wielding the sword and probably many other weapons, fighting bandits and darkspawn. He saw a faint scar across the back of her hand, probably from a dagger from the many battles she had witnessed.
"What did you learn from your research at the tower," he asked.
Her smile was lighter, reminding him of the young mage he fell in love with playing chess in the dark, drafty library in their Ferelden Circle. "Dagna insisted that I had to collect vials of dirt from three different locations the Korcari Wilds, Lothering and Ostagard in the middle of monsoon season. I couldn't take anyone but wardens, because of the risk of the taint. I ended up taking a rouge Cora, dwarf smuggler by the name of Dwydon and one of my first recruits Velanna. Worst trip I ever took, I'd rather trek the deep roads in my small clothes than listen to Velanna complain about human settlements and Dwydon moan about rain and mud."
The story continued on, how they had stumbled upon a Chansid Wilder trip. The shamen had claimed Ashiva was beloved by their Gods. This angered the son of the chief, demanding the mage duel him. The Warden-Commander dueled the chansid in a mud pit, with nothing but a dull knife.
She shuddered. "I couldn't get the damn smell of rotting fish out of my nose for weeks My uniform reeked for three months."
Cullen laughed out loud, his cheeks warm from the second drink. "Well it seems you have somehow impressed even the most barbaric."
"I wouldn't necessarily say that, I'm still trying to charm Bann Ceorlic years after keeping Anora on the throne and defeating the archdemon," she gripped.
He asked her about her role as Warden Commander of Ferelden, and the journeys she had taken. She obliged, telling her about several of the precarious Wardens she had recruited over the years and her travels throughout Ferelden and the Deep Roads. Cullen was aware she hesitated in her tales about the deep roads, the crinkles in her forehead more visible, but he didn't mind. He enjoyed her sweet voice serenade him with stories and tales that were humorous and nearly unbelievable.
It was very late when Cullen saw her stifle a yawn. Several patrons had already left, stumbling and singing their drunkard songs. The candle on the wood table had shrunk to a stub. Ashiva looked like she was ready to collapse in her chair and sleep for several days. He still had reports to finish back in the Gallows, and she had a ship to catch back to Amaranthine tomorrow. They had separate lives from each other, duties that had to be fulfilled.
"I should be going," he said, the words sour in his mouth.
Ashiva nodded her agreement, reclaiming her hand again. She stood, stifling a yawn. "Yes. Alistair will be worried if I stay out any longer. He'll feel he is missing out on something."
"Ashiva…"
"Cullen, call me Ash."
"Ash," the name slipped past his lips, a crooked smile on his lips. He couldn't just let her go, especially now that she had returned. "May I write to you in Amaranthine?"
The elven woman paused staring at him in disbelief. "What about the order? I know Grey Wardens are not affiliated with the Circles, but I am still a mage. Wouldn't it be frowned upon by your order?"
"You're not just a warden but the one who saved Ferelden from the Fifth Blight," Cullen argued, grinning. "All they will know is a friend of mine named Ash joined the Ferelden Grey Wardens."
Ashiva chewed on her lip nervously, before she nodded. "Okay, sure you may write to me in Amaranthine on the condition that I may write to you as well."
"Of course," he grinned, feeling the weariness in his face from the little use.
They moved from the worn wooden table to the sea breeze outside. Ashiva's hair, no longer in a braid, tousled lightly in the wind. She looked south to the docks and him to the north where the Gallows were. The friendly banter, unfortunately, was coming to an end. The mage grabbed the templar's arm, pulling him into a firm handshake.
"May the Maker watch over you, Cullen," she whispered, her amber eyes looking into his earnestly.
"And you, Ash."