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It’s hard to believe that you were once following your father’s footsteps. You were a talented mage, your father had much faith in you becoming the next chief of your tribe. But when the fifth Blight struck, your tribe was the target of frantic Templars and their belief that all mages posed a threat.
So, to say the war table in Haven was in chaos would be an overstatement, however there are no other applicable terms to describe the tense exchange between the ex-Templar and ex-tribal chieftess. You and Cullen had been on a row ever since the discussions of recruiting the rebel mages had arisen. The commander cranes his neck, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword by his side, brows furrowed. It wasn’t an uncommon sight but you didn’t fail to notice the increasingly annoyed tone. Josephine had long given up to mediate the argument and the Herald of Andraste, Cassandra and Leliana stood with crossed arms listening to both of you bicker.
“The rebel mages’ power is too risky; we risk losing them and ourselves.” He argued.
“And how about the Templars, hm?” You huffed, “They’re going around, slaughtering innocents they deemed mage loyalists in Hinterlands. Forgive me but I’m sure you were at the table when this report was made.”
“Not all Templars, I know their fear; I’ve seen it. I know what these mages are capable of.”
“Do you, Commander?” I challenged him, “Do rebel mages wipe out a colony because of their ‘fear’?”
“Maker’s breath.” He cussed, irritated.
“Is that ‘fear’ you so know justified?” I continued, “Is that how Templars see their faith through?
“If my father’s here he would-”
“Well he isn’t!” Cullen bellowed, “Your father is dead, Chief. He is DEAD!”
“Enough!” Cassandra commanded, ironically. “The two of you argue like Mabaris on lyrium, may I remind the both of you we are at war?”
The both of you remained silent, Cullen decided to face the war table, leaning on the edge as he shook his head. Your mind was clouded in thick, red anger. You scoffed before heading to the exit of the room. Josephine called out your name, to which you twist your head so fast over your shoulder she could’ve mistaken it as a broken neck.
“Don’t.” You replied sternly before exiting.
As the heavy door closed, the room fell into another awkward silence. Cassandra let out a deep sigh before returning to the war table, Leliana leaned against the cobbled walls, in thought and Josephine remained looking defeated (and poor woman, she wasn’t involved in the argument at all).
The Herald cleared her throat, a hopeless attempt to dissolve the tension. “This…could’ve gone better.”
“Well, Commander. I trust you’ll bring her back safely.” The seeker announced.
“I’m not-”
“You’re in no place to argue; You made the bed, sleep in it.” She turned towards the exit too, followed by the rest of the council except Cullen.
“Andraste preserves me.” He let out a frustrated sigh, before pushing himself off the war table.
You had decided to wander through the small woods outside of Haven. Despite the land being covered in snow and the lack of spring sparrows singing, it still reminded you of your tribe and more specifically, your father. You felt the small crackle of electricity on your finger tips accumulating; the more you thought about the rebel mages, the argument, Commander Cullen Rutherford.
With a strangled cry, you whip out your staff and unleash a blizzard. The harsh winds swirling past the trees harshly and defeating a few branches; the tree in front of you snapped in half. You let out a few raw pants as the whirling wind came to a stop, your robes decorated in white speckles of snow and you’re sure your hair was covered in powdered white.
The crunch of snow alerted you and you quickly whip around, a tight grip on your weapon. The familiar golden blonde locks came into vision, you lowered your staff but the sneer on your face remained.
“Came to lecture me again, Commander?” You scoffed before travelling further down past the trees, Cullen quickened his pace behind you.
“Don’t be like this.” He said dully, but you could sense a hint of desperation within his voice.
You shook your head in disbelief, if he was here to argue he had chosen a terrible time. Another wrong word from him and you might slam your staff down and let two ice shards chase after him and his pretty face.
Dear Maker, here you go again. One day you fawn over the Commander of the Inquisition and the next you want to wrap two hands around his neck. As you continued to debate between whether you were doing it because you’re truly mad or because your curiosity has piqued from the blonde warrior being able to find you this quickly.
The sun was slowly setting beyond the horizon, another sign that you should turn back to Haven, but your stubbornness persists. Soon enough you find yourself in the heart of the woods, you can tell by the contrary of open ground; the sun’s halo streaming down and pure white snow left untouched. As you came to a stop, so did Cullen.
“Why so persistent?” You asked, which surprised the Commander a little by your boldness.
“I couldn’t- I mean we couldn’t leave you to the woods yourself.” He cleared his throat.
You felt heart quickened by his slip up, but your raw emotions prevented you to be in awe by that sentiment.
“Afraid I’ll open a rift myself?” I let out a sarcastic laugh, “That I’m a risk to both myself and you; a ticking bomb?”
“That’s not what I implied, it’s different. if I’ve given any reason for you to think…” he paused in his own rant, he let out a defeated sigh, “…Of course I have.”
“Chief,” You heard him take a step forward from a crunch in the snow.
You crossed your arms almost in a stubborn attempt to not listen. He saw it, and you knew he saw what you were trying to do.
“Look at me.” He spoke firmly, and when your name slipped out at the end of that sentence it felt like a gentle plead.
Yet, you couldn’t refuse him. The way his voice sounded so vulnerable; he was not a Commander then. You tilted your head over your shoulder, a signal that despite your defiance, you were listening.
Cullen fell silent, pondering before taking in a deep breath. “I…I’m sorry.” He apologised, “I let my own…biases cloud my judgement for the Inquisition.”
“Leliana has a point; the rebel mages’ power are risky but to have that sort of power on the opposing side would be…unfavourable.” He continued, “But, I think I personally owe you an apology.”
“I know how it feels to see your own people die before you, and I also know how it feels to be the only one that survives.”
You felt your barriers for a little, you haven’t noticed but Cullen was rather close to you, and you can feel his gloved hand hesitantly hovering over your shoulder.
“But I don’t know how it feels to have your own people be brought to…extinction.” He spoke carefully, “You’re father is a great man, and…”
He awkwardly grabbed your upper arm to pull you around, when your eyes land of his light hazel ones you could see the tinge of pink decorating his cheeks. “…You’re an admirable woman.”
Your heart quickens in pace as he delivered his last line, you must’ve look far too much surprised as Cullen quickly dropped his hand from his arm and brought it to his neck.
“I meant it like, well, you being a leader of your own people…or well you were supposed to. But that doesn’t mean you’re not as great as your father was, I mean your better but-“ he groans lightly at his fumble, “Maker have mercy.”
You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle which caused Cullen’s face to grow redder, this time you knew it wasn’t because of the cold weather.
“I know what you mean, Commander.” You reassured him, your hands naturally uncrossing themselves, “I owe you an apology too.”
“No, it’s my fa-“
“My biases clouded my judgement on the Templars as a whole, it was wrong.” I continued, “You’re not ruthless; you don’t shed innocent blood, you wouldn’t.”
“I’ve suffered a lot, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t either. I don’t blame that you would view mages, view me as…”
“Maker, no.” He shook his head, “you’re far more than that.”
“I’m glad we feel the same.” I offered a soft smile.
However, your gesture seemed to churn something for the Commander. Cullen’s eyes widened, he quickly looked away and stammered over a few sentences. “W-wait, h-how did you…I mean-”
Concern etched upon your face, you didn’t think you said anything wrong. Had you interpreted it the wrong way?
“Commander, is everything alrigh-?”
“Did Leliana tell you?” Cullen almost squeaked, which was a side you never thought you’d see.
“Tell me what?”
“About my infatuations with…” Now it was your turn to look surprise.
“Oh, um, no. I didn’t know you, uh…” You pulled your eyes off his flushed face and attempted to control your own.
The awkwardness began to brew between the both of you once again. Cullen was struggling to regain his stoicism and you were spiralling at the mere fact you had caused to Cullen accidentally confess.
“I had a better plan than…well, confessing after practically defaming your father.” He gulped, “I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood.”
“No!” You exclaimed, which startled the poor, embarrassed strickened Commander, you muttered a gentle apology, “No, you have it right.”
A hand trailed to his side, you could feel the trail of electricity shooting up his body. You could feel his eyes laying on yours, you didn’t dare to see whether the twitch of his mouth was his breath hitching or a subtle smirk. Either way, it didn’t matter. His hand that rested on his sword hilt moved to wrap his hand around your back, he pulled you in and pressed his chest against yours. You were far too close, but you didn’t mind it. It was an opportunity to take in his small details like the scar across his lip and how his nose was slightly crooked.
You couldn’t study him any further as he leaned down to press his cold lips against your own. They were surprisingly not as chaffed as you imagined them to be. For a Commander of the Inquisition and an ex-Knight-Commander, he was rather gentle. He took his time, drinking in your taste, your scent, the subtle warmth when he pressed the kiss deeper. His hand on your back moved to rest on your waist and his other hand cupped the side of your face, a thumb caressing your cheek softly.
Sooner or later, the both of you had to pull away. Your light pants were evident through the fog escaping your mouth. Cullen gave a bashful smile.
“Sorry, but I really liked that.” He said almost timidly, and you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.
“No more sorries, we’ve said enough of them tonight.” You shook your head before tiptoeing.
Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling yourself up and pressing your lips against his once more. You were afraid you were a rough kisser, but when his arms wrapped around your lower back to pull you in tighter, you felt your anxieties wash away into Haven’s winter night.