Work Text:
If there was one thing Cullen was good at, it was burying himself in work. Especially when it was for a cause he really cared about. Which made losing himself in Inquisition business all too simple. Sequestered in his tower it was easy to let himself be consumed by things that made sense to him. Command over its troops was more than a full-time job, giving him ample opportunity to avoid things. Or avoid dealing with things.
Which is why Cullen is deep in his work when the knock comes at the door.
"Come in" He calls not bothering to look up. He’s up to his elbows in troop movements and supplies requests to the point where he hopes the scout will simply drop off the message and leave.
"Is this a bad time?"
Cullen freezes, papers sliding from his hands coming to rest on the various other piles. Looking up he blinks making sure that this isn’t the result of lyrium withdrawal. Although he knows already that it’s real. That she’s real and standing on the threshold of his office.
"Of course not," he takes a breath, straightening his back and rolling his shoulders. He’s commander of the Inquisition, counsellor to the Herald of Andraste. He can do this. "Come in Warden Surana."
Clio smiles stepping into the room gently closing the door behind her. On instinct, he looks her over as if she was a new recruit. Even in the limited light he can't help but notice how much she's changed since he last saw her. She still stands tall with familiar elven grace but there's weight behind it now, one that speaks of years of experience as a Grey Warden rather than the raw potential she showed at the Circle. Her dark hair is still pulled back, braided and coiled loosely at the base of her neck. Yet he catches sight of a few grey hairs that shine in the beamed light. She’s matured that is obvious, her cheeks sharper and there's a scar across her chin that cuts through her vallaslin. Maker knows how she got that from what he’s heard about her adventures. Yet, her eyes are the same. The same deep brown he would catch himself staring at while she studied, how taken he was when they would light when an idea would come over her. How his heart stuttered when she held his gaze.
Like she was now.
She was staring at him.
Oh no, she had caught him staring.
"Warden"
"Commander"
They both speak at once and retreat simultaneously. Clio drops her gaze and Cullen swore he caught the slightest hint of a blush. Wordlessly he motions for her to go first. Clio steps further into his office and he catches her fidgeting. Was she nervous?
"I wanted to apologize, for what happened earlier." She says after taking a moment to find her words.
Ah. That. Of course, that is why she sought him out. Cullen clears his throat and his mind. This was a professional call.
"It was nothing."
"It was unprofessional and rude." Clio retorts taking another step forward as if proximity would aid her argument. Admittedly, it had stung. She was the last person he expected to find in the War Room when he had arrived to discuss the information Alistair had brought back from Weisshaupt. It was impossible to miss the fear that flashed across her face when their eyes met, and her hasty exit from the room felt more like salt than a balm in old wounds. He knew she had every right to hate him, but fear...
"Alistair had forgotten to mention that you were part of the Inquisition," there’s a hint of annoyance in her voice and Cullen can only guess that she’s already discussed this with her fellow Warden, "as had Leliana. I confess I have been swept up with my own affairs and it was a bit of a surprise. Still, I shouldn't have run away." He watches her for a moment in shock of his own. It almost felt ridiculous. Here she was, after everything, and was apologizing for slighting him. For a brief moment, words escaped him. He moves out from behind his desk trying to formulate what he never imagined he would get the chance to say.
"Warden Surana-"
"Please, you've known me well enough to call me Clio." She interrupts with a small smile, one he can't help but replicate.
"Clio," he corrects, "if there is anyone who should apologize it's me. What happened back at the Circle, what I said to you... I am ashamed to even remember." Cullen drops his gaze as the guilt sets in. He turns to step away but out of the corner of his eye, Clio steps forward reaching out. She's not close enough to touch, but he stills nonetheless, bracing for what comes next.
"You had been tortured, by me ."
"By demons," he corrects, a small flare of indignation flavouring his conviction.
"Who wore my face." Her voice comes out smaller than he expects, but they still hang in the small space between them. Lifting his eyes he meets her gaze. It's not the pity he expected, it's empathy and sadness. The Blight had changed them both, past the point of return. He had heard about what she had done to save Fereldan from the Blight, not to mention Vigils Keep and its aftermath. He was tired of past pains, and from the looks of it, so was she.
"I was a fool, one who was hopelessly infatuated." He jokes although they both know it's the truth. Still, it’s enough to break the tension. Her shoulders drop and he watches the wing-like vallaslin across her cheek curl as she smiles. It’s a familiar smile, one that reminds him of simpler times.
"And I did nothing to discourage you, you were so easy to fluster." She adds with a laugh.
"I was not." Cullen tries to ignore the blush he can already feel creep up his neck. Clio continued to be merciless. That too was familiar, he never doubted that she always saw right through him. Including now.
"You ran away when I suggested we discuss my Harrowing in private." She sounds exasperated but her eyes are shinning.
"I had a patrol." He exclaims but his ears are already burning. Clio cocks a brow at him and he knows he's lost. He drops his gaze in defeat but he can tell she's still looking at him but this time he doesn’t squirm. The silence that falls between them now isn’t solid like before, it’s soft, letting the nostalgia settle around them.
"You look good Cullen," her voice is small, earnest, "you look happy."
"So do you," he replies, gesturing to her Warden armour. It’s different from what Alistair wears, lighter, better suited for the precise movements needed for casting. "Blue suits you." ‘ It always has, ’ he adds silently.
“They more comfortable than those stuffy Circle robes that's for sure.” Her hand absentmindedly traces the lines of her griffon armour, her face falling ever so slightly and Cullen remembers what Alistair had told him about why they had come personally rather than send a raven.
"I hope Dorian has been of some help." He asks before she has the chance to sink further. Clio perks up immediately, once again the determined mage he knew.
"He has, we're so close to the cure." She says it with such conviction it takes him off guard. It’s no wonder that so many gathered behind her during the Blight.
"I can imagine how helpful curing the Calling will be, especially after Corypheus." She nods but it's a second too late. A second later things fall into place and he wonders how he missed it. He thinks back to how Alistair had followed Clio out of the War Room only to return with her excuses despite the worry plastered all over his face. More than that Cullen remembers the look on the Warden’s face when Nimue handed him Clio’s letter. How he held it like it was the most precious thing in the world. Clio had already been looking for a cure long before Corypheus used it against the Grey Wardens.
Of course.
Cullen waited for the sharp pain of rejection that never came. Instead, there was a momentary pang in his chest, gone before he could truly register it.
They were no longer 19 and fools.
Thank the Maker for small mercies.
"I wish you luck with your research.” He says and means it wholeheartedly. “Alistair is a good man, the Wardens would be less without him."
"I- thank you," she responds blushing deeply and he knows this time he’s caught her off guard. Cullen leans against his desk finally relaxing when there's a knock at the door and they both jolt.
"Come in," Cullen responds. As if they had summoned him, Alistair swings the door open, his chest heaving as if he ran all the way over. He goes straight for Clio resting a hand on her shoulder.
"Clio, Iron Bull has offered to pay for drinks if you tell him how you took down the Archdemon." He’s acting collected but Cullen catches the excitement radiating off Alistair. It’s odd to see a man who before was so focused become almost giddy at the prospect of free ale.
"Alistair we have plenty of coin," she says rolling her eyes towards Cullen but smiling all the same.
"Yes but my dear, these would be free ." Alistair wiggles his eyebrows at her and over her laughter Clio spares Cullen one last look.
"Care to join us?" She asks. Alistair turns as if he just remembered Cullen’s presence, his smile widening at the lack of tension between the two. There’s another pang in his chest, he does his best to ignore it.
"Later, I have some work to attend to." He gestures to the pile of papers still on his desk. Clio nods but still reaches out a hand to him, he takes it without a second thought.
"It was good talking to you again, Cullen." She says giving his hand a squeeze.
"You as well, Clio." He smiles and squeezes back. After a beat, she releases his hand and allows Alistair to all but sweep her out of the room. The door shuts behind them leaving Cullen alone once again.
He stares at the closed door for a moment before sitting back down at his desk, his mind and heart lighter than before.