30 Cloudreach – 2 Bloomingtide 9:41
The next morning, Ariana woke to sunlight streaming through her window. For once, the fatigue in her bones wasn’t from restless nightmares. She hadn’t slept much, but what little sleep she’d gotten had been peaceful—restorative in a way she hadn’t felt in years.
Her thoughts drifted back to the previous evening. Cullen’s teasing warmth, the way he’d met her banter stride for stride—it had felt like coming home in a way she couldn’t quite put into words. The ache of their shared distance had eased just a little, replaced by something she didn’t yet dare name but couldn’t help savoring.
After dressing and grabbing a mug of coffee, she made her way toward the war room. She’d heard murmurs about Leliana and Josephine needing her input on Hinterlands logistics, though her instincts told her it was likely less urgent than they made it sound. Still, it was better to check in and head off whatever trouble they were brewing.
As she approached the war room, the sound of their voices carried through the partially open door. But instead of the usual calm tones of strategy and diplomacy, their conversation was hushed, conspiratorial—and decidedly playful.
“You know, I always wondered…” Leliana’s voice trailed off, her tone taking on a mischievous lilt. “How strong is he under all that armor?”
“Oh, immensely strong, I’m sure,” Josephine replied, her words laced with exaggerated certainty. “You can tell just by how he moves—graceful but powerful, like a great beast stalking its prey.”
Ariana froze mid-step, raising an eyebrow. They can’t possibly be talking about Cullen.
“Graceful?” Leliana echoed, her voice full of mock doubt. “We’re still talking about the Commander, yes?”
“Yes!” Josephine replied, her tone a mix of scandal and indignation. “You can’t tell me you’ve never noticed the way he carries himself. Those shoulders. That jawline.”
Ariana bit her lip to stifle her laugh, leaning casually against the wall just outside the door. Her coffee mug was warm against her palms, but not nearly as warm as the flush creeping up her cheeks. This is too good to interrupt.
“And the way he gives orders,” Leliana added with a dreamy sigh. “So commanding. He could… command me anytime.”
Ariana nearly choked on her coffee, coughing as she hurried to cover her mouth. The sound gave her away immediately.
Inside, the room went silent. “Was that—?” Leliana began.
Josephine turned toward the door, her eyes widening as Ariana stepped into view, still fighting to catch her breath. “Herald!” Josephine exclaimed, her voice high-pitched with surprise.
“Oh, please, don’t stop on my account,” Ariana said, waving her free hand as she set her coffee down on the table. Her smirk was wide and merciless. “I’m dying to hear the rest.” Their playful curiosity about Cullen should have been ridiculous—but instead, it triggered an unexpected rush of memories.
Leliana and Josephine exchanged looks—half mortified, half defiant. “We were merely discussing the Commander,” Leliana said smoothly, though her cheeks betrayed a faint blush.
“Discussing?” Ariana echoed, her amusement clear as she leaned casually against the table. “It sounded more like appreciating from where I was standing.”
“Well, can you blame us?” Josephine said, recovering quickly. “He is quite… striking.”
Ariana shook her head, unable to contain her laughter. “You two are shameless. Was this entire meeting just a chance to fawn over Cullen, or am I actually needed for something?”
Josephine opened her mouth to respond, but Leliana cut her off. “Since you’re here, why not settle something for us?” She leaned forward slightly, her tone turning conspiratorial. “You’ve known him longer than any of us. What’s he like?”
Ariana arched an eyebrow. “You mean, beyond the grumpiness and stubbornness?”
“That doesn’t count,” Josephine said, waving her hand dismissively. “We mean… physically. Have you seen him without his armor?”
She’d seen him without his armor more times than she cared to admit. In Kirkwall, after long days when they’d stolen moments together, she’d trace the lines of his muscles, marveling at the way years of training had shaped him. She remembered the faint scars on his skin, each one a mark of his dedication, his willingness to throw himself into danger for others. And then there was his smile—rare, but unguarded in those stolen moments—something only she had been lucky enough to see.
Ariana’s smirk widened. “Once or twice,” she said casually, enjoying the way both women leaned in, their curiosity palpable.
“And?” Leliana prompted, her eyes gleaming.
“And,” Ariana began, drawing the word out as long as possible, “let’s just say your imaginations probably don’t do him justice.”
The thought sent a flicker of warmth and something sharper—possessiveness—coursing through her. He wasn’t just the Commander to her. He was the man who had kissed her as if the world was ending, who had held her as though she was the only thing keeping him grounded.
Both women gasped, and Josephine practically clutched her pearls. “Details!” she demanded. “Does he train shirtless?”
“Occasionally,” Ariana replied, her tone deceptively casual. “But you’d have to ask the recruits how much they manage to focus during those sessions.”
If they wanted to speculate, she would let them. They didn’t need to know the way his hands could undo her, or how his presence alone had a way of making her feel both unsteady and safe at the same time.
Josephine and Leliana exchanged delighted looks, and Ariana could see they were gearing up for another round of questions when the unmistakable sound of heavy boots echoed down the hall.
“He’s coming,” Ariana whispered, her smirk turning wicked.
Both women froze, scrambling to look busy. Josephine pretended to review a stack of papers while Leliana suddenly found something fascinating about the maps on the wall.
The door creaked open, and Cullen stepped inside, his brow furrowed slightly at the abrupt silence. “Good morning,” he said, his gaze sweeping over the room before landing on Ariana, his expression wary.
Ariana couldn’t resist. “Good morning, Commander,” she said sweetly, her tone full of feigned innocence. Her lips curled into a teasing smile as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, suspicion flickering across his face.
You’ll figure it out eventually, she thought, biting back a laugh.
~~~
After reviewing the day’s reports, aid requests, and planning their next moves, Josephine and Leliana exited the war room with unusual haste. Cullen barely noticed their departure, his attention caught by the laughter Ariana had been suppressing through most of the meeting. Her shoulders shook slightly, her amusement breaking free the moment the heavy door closed behind them.
He turned toward her, his curiosity piqued. “Do you want to tell me what exactly happened this morning?”
“Nothing you need to worry about today, Commander,” she said with a teasing lilt, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Cullen quirked an eyebrow. “That’s hardly reassuring. Should I prepare myself?”
Ariana only shrugged, the smirk lingering on her lips. He found himself watching her longer than necessary, the ease in her demeanor tugging at something deep within him. She looked different here—lighter, as if Haven had softened the edges Kirkwall had so sharply defined. Or maybe it wasn’t Haven at all. Maybe it was this version of her, the White Wolf free to be in the open, here in the Inquisition, without the walls she’d once built around herself.
Her tone shifted suddenly, a spark of excitement lighting her features. “Did you know that one of the cells in the dungeons below is full of bookshelves?”
“I do,” Cullen replied, chuckling. “The Chantry sisters locked them there to keep the books from being stolen.”
Her gaze darted away, and Cullen immediately recognized the feigned innocence in her expression. His arms crossed, his tone light but amused. “Let me guess… it’s not locked anymore.”
She raised a hand, pretending to inspect her nails, and said nothing.
Cullen tilted his head, a knowing smile forming. “How did you even find the key?”
“There’s a key?” she asked, her voice the picture of mock surprise.
He shook his head, his smile widening. “So, you’re telling me you’re also adept at picking locks?”
“Maybe,” she replied airily, her tone perfectly ambiguous. “And with that, I should leave you to your work, Commander. If you happen to find yourself with time around dinner tonight… come find me.”
Her casual offer hung in the air as she turned toward the door. Cullen watched her go, her confidence radiating in every step. He had half a mind to let her leave, to accept the space she was offering him—but the other half refused to let the moment slip by.
“Actually,” he called, his voice taking on a deliberately formal tone. “There’s something I could use your help with.”
She stopped, turning to face him, her curiosity evident. “What is it?”
He straightened slightly, clearing his throat. “With Riley in the Hinterlands, I could use your help coordinating the Rangers. We’ve received a few reports that warrant investigation, and I could use your expertise.”
The truth wasn’t far from his words, but Cullen knew she’d see through him. The Rangers had been functioning seamlessly under Riley’s leadership during her absence, and they could manage just as well for a few more days. But he wanted her insight—and if he were honest with himself, he wanted her company.
Her lips curved into a soft smile, a flicker of understanding passing through her gaze. She didn’t press him, though, and instead nodded. “Of course, Commander. Tell me what you need.”
The hours that followed unfolded with a rhythm so natural it surprised him. Together, they worked through reports of strange sightings, lost patrols, and potential threats. Scouts came and went, messengers were dispatched, and combined forces of Rangers and soldiers were strategically assigned to address the issues. With each task, they communicated effortlessly, their strengths complementing each other in a way that made every decision feel seamless.
It wasn’t all business, though. Between dispatches and strategies, their conversation drifted to lighter topics. Ariana recounted stories of her earlier years with the Rangers and recent adventures, her animated descriptions drawing laughter from Cullen despite himself. When she described a particular escapade involving Varric and a group of unruly Avvar, he found himself completely engrossed, unable to hold back his grin.
“Did you win the bet?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.
“Of course,” Ariana replied, her tone mockingly offended. “Though I may have had to carry Varric halfway back to camp after. He still insists it wasn’t the ale that got him, but the ‘spirit of the hunt.’” Her grin widened. “I’m fairly certain the only spirit involved came in a bottle.”
Cullen shook his head, laughing softly. “I can’t imagine anyone else getting into half the trouble you seem to find.”
“It’s not trouble,” she countered, her tone playful. “It’s adventure. There’s a difference.”
“And what about the part where you had to carry him back?” Cullen teased, his voice warm. “Adventure or trouble?”
“Both,” she admitted, waving a hand dismissively, her laugh light and infectious.
As the hours passed, Cullen found himself watching her more closely than he meant to. The way she leaned over the table, the subtle flicker of her smile when she read something intriguing, the quiet hum she made as she pieced through reports—it all captivated him. She was a puzzle he could never fully solve, but he didn’t mind. Every new piece, every unguarded moment she shared, only deepened the admiration he’d held for her for years.
It struck him, then, how easily she had stepped into this role beside him. They worked in harmony, as if the years between them and the pain they’d endured had simply melted away. This was how it should have been all along—back in Kirkwall, had things been different, had they both been free of the chains that had bound them.
He caught himself wondering if she felt it too—the pull, the ease, the understanding that ran deeper than words. When she caught his gaze and smiled, he felt more certain than ever that she felt the same way.
~~~
By the time they stepped outside, the sun had slipped behind the jagged peaks surrounding Haven, the sky painted in deep hues of gold and lavender. The chill of the evening air was sharp, but Cullen barely felt it as he followed Ariana. She led him away from the bustle of the camp, her steps unhurried but purposeful. They moved toward a quieter section where the defenses were still unfinished, the path offering an unobstructed view of the frozen lake below. The stillness of the scene contrasted sharply with the chaos they faced daily, and Cullen felt a rare sense of calm settle over him.
Ariana carried a bottle of wine and two glasses, the faint clink of glass punctuating the silence. Cullen had noticed the small gesture immediately, and while she hadn’t said it outright, he knew this moment had been planned—something just for them. The thought sent a flicker of warmth through him, even as his unease simmered beneath the surface.
They reached the ledge, where the view stretched out endlessly. Cullen watched as Ariana rubbed her eyes, exhaustion etched into her features. Her month-long journey and the long hours since her return had clearly taken their toll, yet there she stood, resolute as ever.
“Did you sleep last night?” he asked softly, his concern slipping through despite himself.
She turned to him with a small smile, her eyes warm. “I did. Well… when I finally got to bed, anyway.” Her smile turned playful. “You?”
Cullen chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “I managed a few hours.”
“Maybe I’ll try to get more tonight,” she said, stretching her neck. “I don’t see any reason to leave at first light.”
“Leave?” he echoed, the single word laced with surprise and trepidation.
Ariana’s brow furrowed slightly. “Redcliffe,” she said simply, as though the answer should have been obvious.
Cullen’s heart sank, the word pulling him back to the doubts that had plagued him for weeks. His gaze dropped to the frozen ground as the weight of their conversation pressed down on him. “I’m still not certain this is the right decision,” he admitted after a moment, his voice quiet but heavy with worry. “The mages are desperate, Ari…”
She froze for the briefest of moments, and he caught the flicker of something in her expression—concern, sadness, perhaps both. “I know they’re desperate, Cullen. But that doesn’t make them wrong.”
He shook his head, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I still think the templars could help us,” he said, his voice pleading. “They have discipline, training—”
“We don’t even know where they are,” she interrupted gently. “And if we do find them, there’s no guarantee they’ll even speak to us.” She hesitated, her voice softening. “And if I’m right about the corruption of the Lord Seeker…”
Her words trailed off, but Cullen didn’t need her to finish. The implications were clear—and damning. His jaw tightened, the doubts and fears he had worked so hard to suppress rising to the surface. “Do you even know what will happen if you pour more power into your mark?” he asked quietly, though his voice carried an edge of frustration. “How do you know it won’t kill you?”
“I don’t,” she admitted, her tone steady despite the gravity of her words. “But I also know I can’t close the breach on my own. And while I do believe you may be right about the templars, we don’t know for certain that they could weaken it enough for me to seal it.”
Her calm resolve only fueled his unease. “And we don’t know the mages can provide enough power either,” he countered, his voice rising slightly, his worry slipping into anger. “How can you say this so calmly? You’re just… alright with the possibility that this might kill you?”
Without hesitation, Ariana reached out, her hand cupping his cheek. The touch was gentle, grounding, and it broke through the storm of emotions threatening to overtake him. “It’s not about how I feel, Cullen,” she said softly. “It’s about what has to be done. There isn’t a choice for me. I have to accept whatever happens because no one else can do this.”
Cullen closed his eyes briefly, his hand coming up to cover hers. The warmth of her touch steadied him, but it didn’t erase the fear gnawing at his chest. His thumb brushed lightly over her fingers, as if holding onto her could somehow protect her from the dangers she faced.
Her voice pulled him back, firm but filled with quiet determination. “If there’s a way to survive this, we will find it. But I need you to trust me. I need you to stand with me, Cullen.” She hesitated, her voice softening as she added, “This time, I’m asking you to stand with me against everything.”
Her words struck him like a blow, the weight of their meaning sinking deep. They echoed the question he had failed to answer in Kirkwall. The memory of that failure haunted him still, but this time, there was no hesitation.
“I will follow you into the Black City itself if that’s where this leads,” he said, his voice steady and resolute. “Wherever you go, whatever you choose, I will stand by your side.”
Their eyes met, the weight of his promise heavy in the air. In that moment, the doubts, the fears, and the past seemed to fall away, leaving only the unspoken understanding that had always existed between them.
As the sun disappeared below the horizon, Cullen let himself believe, just for a moment, that together, they could face whatever lay ahead.
~~~
Josephine had not intended to spend her evening indulging in idle curiosity, but when Ariana swept into the tavern earlier, grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses, and left without a word, her interest had been piqued. The ever-observant Leliana, ever the schemer, had raised a knowing brow, her lips curving into a sly smile as she nudged Josephine toward the door.
“Shall we?” Leliana had asked, her tone light but conspiratorial.
Josephine hesitated only a moment before following. It wasn’t often the Herald made such deliberate plans, and the diplomat couldn’t resist the intrigue. The two of them trailed at a careful distance, their steps quiet and their whispers hushed as they shadowed Ariana and Cullen through Haven’s winding paths.
“A romantic rendezvous, you think?” Josephine whispered, barely containing her excitement.
“Almost certainly,” Leliana replied, her tone dry but amused. “They’ve been circling each other like hawks since she returned. It’s about time, don’t you think?”
Josephine hummed in agreement, though she couldn’t help the flush that rose to her cheeks. Spying on their Commander and the Herald wasn’t exactly proper, but… it was undeniably thrilling.
They found a discreet spot behind a stack of barrels near the edge of the camp, just close enough to catch snippets of the conversation. Ariana and Cullen stood near the overlook, the golden light of the setting sun casting them in a warm glow. They were both clearly at ease, their postures relaxed, their voices low and intimate.
“They do make a striking pair,” Josephine murmured, tilting her head to get a better view.
“Indeed,” Leliana said, her gaze lingering on Cullen. “A formidable combination. Strength and grace.”
Josephine shot her a curious glance. “You seem… unusually interested in their… well, their domestic bliss.”
Leliana’s smile tightened. “Old habits die hard, Josephine. I’ve always been a keen observer of human relationships, even amongst the shadows.” She paused, a hint of melancholy in her voice. “Besides, it’s good to see him happy. He’s been through… a great deal.”
Josephine nodded, understanding. Cullen had been through his fair share of trials, both personal and professional. “He deserves this happiness.”
Ariana handed Cullen a glass of wine, and they shared a laugh, their smiles soft and unguarded. Josephine couldn’t hear the words, but the way they looked at each other spoke volumes. She leaned closer to Leliana, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Have you ever seen Cullen like this?”
Leliana smirked, her gaze never leaving the pair. “No, I only met him briefly during the Blight in the aftermath of Kinloch Hold. Darkness is all I’ve ever seen in him.”
Josephine’s eyes widened, a hundred questions bubbling to the surface, but Leliana’s expression warned her against asking. Instead, they both turned their attention back to the couple.
At one point, Ariana placed her hand on Cullen’s cheek, her expression tender and resolute. Cullen covered her hand with his own, his thumb brushing over her fingers in a gesture so intimate it made Josephine’s heart flutter.
“This is like something out of a bard’s tale,” she whispered, unable to contain her excitement.
“Indeed,” Leliana replied, her voice dry but her smile betraying her amusement.
They both fell silent as Cullen’s voice carried over the wind. “I will follow you into the Black City itself if that’s where this leads,” he said, his tone steady and filled with conviction.
Josephine gasped softly, her hands clasping over her chest. “Oh, that’s… that’s unbearably romantic, even for a hardened Templar.”
Leliana chuckled quietly. “It is rather poetic for a man who claims not to care for dramatics.”
Josephine nodded, her expression dreamy as she continued to watch. “Do you think she knows how lucky she is?”
“I think she knows exactly what she has,” Leliana replied, her voice tinged with something Josephine couldn’t quite place. “And I suspect she’s seen a great deal more of him than shirtless sparring.”
Josephine’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and she stifled a laugh. “Leliana!”
“What?” Leliana said, her tone feigning innocence. “I’m merely stating the obvious. Their connection runs deeper than most would guess.” She paused, her smile turning wistful. “It’s good to see them happy. It’s… good to see him happy.”
Josephine hummed in agreement, though her thoughts lingered on Leliana’s earlier words. There was more to this story than she knew, but for now, she was content to simply observe. After all, moments like this were rare, and in the midst of war, a glimpse of genuine love felt like a gift.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and the couple remained lost in their conversation, Josephine turned to Leliana with a soft smile. “Shall we leave them to it?”
Leliana nodded, her gaze lingering on Ariana and Cullen one last time before turning away. “Let’s,” she said, her tone lighter than it had been in weeks.
Together, they retreated back toward the heart of Haven, their spirits buoyed by the knowledge that even in the darkest times, hope—and love—could still flourish.
~~~
Haven’s crisp morning air carried a hum of energy as rumors about the Commander and the Herald buzzed through the camp. With Ariana gone to Redcliffe, the gossip had grown unchecked, and every corner of Haven seemed alive with speculation.
Near the stables, two young villagers whispered so fervently they barely noticed Harritt walking by with an armful of tools.
“I swear it’s true!” one said, her voice low but insistent. “My cousin saw them sparring the other day. Said they were practically dancing, all locked together—”
“And then he picked her up?” the other interrupted, her eyes wide with delight.
“Yes! Like she weighed nothing,” the first replied, punctuating the claim with a dramatic flourish.
Harritt rolled his eyes as he passed. “It’s like living in one of Varric’s serials…” he muttered under his breath.
At the tavern, Flissa was eagerly recounting her observations to a merchant.
“I’m telling you, I saw it with my own eyes,” she said, her voice brimming with excitement. “She took two glasses of wine—one for her, one for him—and they walked out together, smiling like they didn’t have a care in the world!”
The merchant gasped, leaning in closer. “Did he say anything?”
“Not a word,” Flissa confirmed, nodding sagely. “Just followed her like it was the most natural thing in the world.”
Even the scouts weren’t immune to the gossip.
“So, uh…” a scout began, sidling up to Harding with an exaggeratedly casual air. “You think the Commander’s finally gonna make his move?”
Harding looked up from her map, raising an eyebrow. “What are you talking about now?”
“The Commander and the Herald!” the scout said, gesturing wildly. “Everyone’s saying—”
“Everyone needs to focus on their jobs,” Harding interrupted, her tone sharp but tinged with amusement. “Unless you’d like to be the one scouting every frozen corner of the Frostbacks?”
The scout grimaced, slinking away as Harding shook her head, muttering, “Maker, save me from the idle minds of this camp.”
By the time Cullen reached the training grounds, the whispers had followed him like a persistent shadow. Hushed voices trailed behind him, and he could feel the weight of every sideways glance.
It wasn’t until a soldier approached Valentina near the Chantry that Cullen realized just how far the rumors had spread.
“Excuse me, Lieutenant,” the soldier said, lowering his voice. “You’ve know the White Wolf a long time, haven’t you?”
Valentina turned, her sharp gaze settling on the soldier with mild amusement. “I have. Why?”
The soldier hesitated, clearly weighing his words. “It’s just… people are saying things. About her and the Commander. You know, if there’s… history.”
Valentina arched a brow, her lips curving into the faintest smirk. “History? You mean the Knight-Captain of the Gallows and a rogue noblewoman?” She let the words hang for a moment, enjoying the way the soldier’s eyes widened. “Let me put it this way,” she continued, her tone smooth. “These rumors are tame compared to what Kirkwall came up with. There were whispers about moonlit trysts and clandestine meetings in Hightown gardens. So whatever you’re imagining? It’s probably not far from the truth.”
The soldier blinked, his curiosity clearly piqued, but Valentina simply nodded once before walking off, leaving him to wonder just how much of the rumors were fact.
By the time Cullen reached the training grounds, he was aware of the whispers that followed him like a shadow. The hushed tones, the knowing glances—he could practically feel the weight of their assumptions pressing on him.
But it wasn’t until a soldier approached him directly that he realized just how out of hand things had gotten.
“Commander,” the soldier said with a grin, “we were wondering—what’s the Herald’s favorite flower?”
Cullen stopped mid-step, his brow furrowing. “Her favorite flower?”
“Yeah,” the soldier said, his grin widening. “You know, for… morale purposes.”
Cullen crossed his arms, his expression stern. “If this is another attempt to waste my time—”
“Oh, no, sir! Strictly strategic,” the soldier said, trying to keep a straight face. “You never know when a flower might come in handy, right?”
Cullen stared at him for a long moment before sighing. “Dismissed.”
Finally alone, Cullen grabbed a wooden training sword and began running drills, the rhythmic thwack of the blade against the dummy offering some semblance of reprieve. But no matter how hard he tried to focus, his thoughts wandered.
Her teasing voice lingered in his mind: “Whatever your heart desires.” It had been a challenge, as so many of her words were, but it had also been more. The way her ring caught the light of the hearth as she’d said it… That ring. Maker, that ring. She still wore it, openly. She didn’t even try to hide it. He had tried not to hope, but how could he not? And then, later that night, she had smiled at him, her eyes filled with warmth, and warned him about rumors in a place like Haven. “Let them talk,” he had said.
He hadn’t fully meant it then—not the way the entire camp seemed to take him at his word. Now, with every knowing glance and whispered word, he wasn’t sure if he regretted it or reveled in it.
The sound of heavy boots crunching against the snow pulled Cullen’s attention away from the training dummy. He turned just as Iron Bull approached, his broad grin as unapologetic as ever.
“Morning, Commander,” Bull said, his voice booming with cheer. “Lovely day for a moonlit stroll with the Herald, eh?”
Cullen groaned, already feeling the heat creeping up his neck. “Not you too…”
“Oh, absolutely me too,” Bull replied, his grin widening. “I mean, come on. You two couldn’t be more obvious if you tried.”
Cullen frowned, crossing his arms. “We’ve done nothing to invite these rumors.”
Bull raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, sure. Because the whole camp just imagines things like her smiling at you like you hung the moon. Or you watching her like she’s the only person in this town.”
Cullen felt his face burn, but before he could retort, Bull’s grin took on a different edge—less teasing, more thoughtful.
“You know,” Bull began, scratching the back of his neck, “I think I get it now.”
“Get what?” Cullen asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
“Why I never stood a chance,” Bull said, shaking his head in mock defeat. At Cullen’s confused look, he elaborated, his tone taking on a touch of disbelief. “I flirted with her. A lot. Thought maybe we’d share some drinks, maybe more. She turned me down so fast it was like she’d been waiting for the opportunity.”
Cullen blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. “She… did?”
“Oh, yeah,” Bull replied, crossing his arms and leaning back slightly. “Didn’t even hesitate. She was polite about it, sure. Something about ‘another time,’ but it was crystal clear I wasn’t getting anywhere. And trust me, Commander—I don’t strike out often. Never that fast.”
Cullen’s chest tightened as the implications settled in. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. “Well… perhaps she simply wasn’t interested.”
Bull snorted, his grin returning full force. “Oh, she’s interested, alright. Just not in me. Didn’t take long to figure out where her heart’s at. And, judging by the way you’re looking at me right now, I’d say it’s mutual.”
Cullen opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. Bull clapped him on the back, his laughter booming across the yard.
“Relax, Commander,” Bull said, his tone warm but teasing. “You’re a lucky man. Don’t mess it up.”
With that, Bull strode off, leaving Cullen standing in the snow, his thoughts spinning. He couldn’t decide whether to be irritated, amused, or… hopeful.
Cullen sighed, swinging the wooden sword harder against the dummy. But no matter how much effort he put into the motions, his mind drifted back to her. The way she had looked at him, the warmth in her smile, the unspoken promise in her words.
Despite himself, the faintest smile tugged at his lips. Perhaps, just perhaps, the rumors weren’t entirely unfounded after all.
With one final swing, he muttered under his breath, “Maker’s breath, what have I done…” and headed back toward the Chantry. But the smile remained.