[ It is only a few short days after the fall of Adamant's fortress that Neria receives word of Clarel's mistake, Erimond's betrayal, the destruction of the Warden forces in Orlais. The report isn't as detailed as she'd like, her few contacts and spies within the organization - and elsewhere - limited in scope and depth. What is clear is Corypheus' involvement, a Darkspawn, and that the Wardens nearly crumbled apart because of his machinations...and now the Inquisition has folded the remaining Wardens left into their numbers to combat the threat. She should be grateful. Perhaps, in a sense, she is.
But it doesn't stop her from feeling guilty.
Had she been there, could she have stopped all of this from happening? Had she remained at her post, could she have been able to persuade Clarel to stop, or even prevented some of the Ferelden Wardens from following her? It wracks her like a poison in her chest, feeding on self-deprecation and continued frustration. This could have be prevented. She could have done something. And here she is, researching, practicing unsightly magics to save her family when she should have been at their sides.
It takes a tremendous amount of personal persuasion not to fall back into the crippling doubt that comes with that guilt, to remain in hiding for continued months or even years in the wake of her failure. But sure enough, the force of her determination outweighs her blame, and within days, she is riding to Ferelden. From there, it is another week's journey to the mountains, following all of the other soldiers and pilgrims intent on seeing the Herald of Andraste, a trickling flow of individuals who lead her straight to Skyhold's doorstep. No one questions her, not when she refuses to wear her colors or her armor. They liken her to a mercenary, if nothing else, and it is almost embarrassingly simple for her to wander in the gates and into the great hall, where Inquisitor Trevelyan herself conducts business with sneering nobles and the guilty alike, judging and doling out commands where it suits her.
Frankly, she's impressed. A noble Marcher takes charge like one born to it, neither lenient nor shirking in what she feels is her duty. Whatever she might have felt before, whether she doubted the Inquisitor's capability or felt anger that the Wardens felt forced to take knee to her, it didn't matter. This was a leader she could respect. But she was also handling people who weren't her responsibility.
And let it never be said she didn't at least attempt to be subtle about her entrance. She waits until the other nobles and soldiers have finished conducting business with the Inquisitor to approach the throne. She pulls down the hood of her cloak as she does so and at least maintains a respectful distance. ]
Inquisitor Trevelyan, if you have a moment.
[ She gives her a wry smile, the insanity of the situation not lost on her. The Warden-Commander who disappeared - or died, who knows? - has suddenly turned up on their doorstep. ]
I heard that the Wardens had no one to lead them and thought you could use some help.
[ Being held under tight scrutiny is an existence Kaia has found herself rather used to, even fond of at a point. Though her decisions may have been found unorthodox or even dangerous, each and every one of them has led to the success that the Inquisition has ultimately found pride in. Freeing the mages and working beside them, distributing harsh yet fair punishment rather than imprisonment or death... While many may disagree with Kaia's intentions, they have seen through to where the Inquisition lies now. Insisting that the wardens who still live work beside them is just another step forward, regardless of what they have done. ]
[ And her advisors certainly showed just as much discontent. But they were here, settled, and there was nothing more any of them could do. Each step forward has brought some gift, and when Kaia is advised that she has a visitor awaiting her before the throne, there is promise more than surprise. ]
[ That is, until this Warden-Commander lowers her hood and reveals herself. There is enough gasps in the room to cause echo, shock among each and every person within a good enough viewpoint. While the Inquisitor remains calm, serene with a matching expression, the advisors around her show otherwise. ]
[ Especially Cullen. ]
[ The Commander stands in shock, clear on his face when the whispers "It's the Hero of Ferelden..." "She died at the hands of the Archdemon!", quiet calls to the Maker and Andraste where he is dumbfounded and shocked all the same. ]
[ She had died. It was ten years ago when Cullen had heard the news of his former charge having passed in her bravery. So many years where he had assumed moving on to be the only choice, where he had moved on despite his personal doubts and desires to change what he had done before her. His hands rested upon the hilt of his sword, but drop at the sight of her. ]
[ Kaia is prepared to speak to her, but Cullen raises a hand, stepping forward. ]
Neria? By the Maker, is that--
[ He looks to Kaia, still raising his hand as request. ]
Forgive me for overstepping, Inquisitor, but I...
[ But Kaia hardly takes it as an insult, not when she is fully aware of Cullen's past. Not when she very much knows what he is likely feeling. Cullen is speechless, realizing he's interrupted rudely and he forces himself to take a step back. Kaia wears a sympathetic gaze, though it doesn't last long, and she looks to Neria. ]
It's not often we see a ghost walk through our doors. And by the way the color in my Commander's face has completely washed off and those around you, I'm to assume you have made quite the disappearing act.
[ And that is...not a face she expected to see again. For a moment, all the bravado she's conjured for her front slips away and Neria stares, her expression similar to Cullen's. But the whispers around them force her to push aside her personal feelings or the guilt that threatens to choke her; in fact, her gaze falters, briefly looking to the side before it returns to Kaia and not to him, even if she feels she is betraying herself further. How many lies has she spun to keep people safe? How many stories has she told to distance herself from what has happened? How many people has she abandoned?
If she thinks on it, she'll lose her nerve. There will be time for that later, and all the explanations that come with it. ]
I don't believe ghosts feel hunger, Inquisitor, because I'm certainly famished from the trek up this frozen mountain.
[ Neria steels herself, stands a little straighter, an act that makes her seem more imposing to those behind her than to the small group she stands in front of. She is a commander, not a frightened little mage in a tower. ]
If you have any Ferelden Wardens with you, they will be able to confirm my identity. My name is Neria Surana, Hero of the Fifth Blight, Warden-Commander of the Ferelden sect of the Grey Wardens.
[ She breathes out, glancing only briefly at Cullen before she continues. ]
The Grey Wardens have done the world a great disservice and I am here to rectify that mistake. I am offering someone to lead them under your banner and to keep them from falling to corruption and misguidance again. You are fighting a monster that we are obliged to wage war against, no matter the cost.
[ But Neria hears the Calling too, no matter how much of an illusion that may be, and she cannot completely say she trusts herself. She'll be damned, however, if she lets something like Corypheus kill them all. ]
The world is falling into ruin, Inquisitor. I need to be here now.
[ It would be impossible not to recognize her from Cullen's perspective. That face has been burned into his memory for a decade, regardless of the guilt and doubts he's had about the man he was back then. No, not a man... A boy. Cullen was a young man, misguided and misled to believe that The Order he had so loyally followed was nothing but a tainted crowd of people with ill-will for others. So much has changed, and Neria is a symbol of what he had left. His eyes never leave her, and he doesn't hear the words being said around him, nor does he answer to the whispered call from Josephine. ]
[ He is forced to stand still, to take back the posture that is expected of him. Cullen is the Commander, a force to be reckoned with and a visual of leadership underneath that of the Inquisitor. In the presence of the throne, he can't let himself slip up like that. He mentally berates himself for it, but his gaze doesn't leave her, even if the look of shock is forced away. But he is a giant bundle of nerves and tension, stiffly standing where he awaits his Inquisitor's decision. ]
I know who you are. You're the famed Hero of Ferelden, the very same person who supposedly died at the hands of the Archdemon.
[ Despite such a remark, Kaia smirks. ]
You're obviously here and in good health, which means you've succeeded in hiding away for ten years. We share common ground in the weight that's been dropped on our shoulders.
[ There is no argument to Neria's point. And Kaia could use all types of allies. She looks to Cullen again, brow perked as she leans forward. He looks a right mess, despite his desperate attempts to appear otherwise. Once more, she looks back to her guest, realizing it best to shorten this matter for the sake of a reunion. Cullen is her friend, and Kaia is not beyond allowing those she cares for to take time for themselves. ]
The Inquisition does not turn their nose at valuable help. I'm sure we have many questions to ask you, particularly having to do with why you saw fit to hide away for so many years. Especially when legend speaks rather highly of you.
We'll just consider that modesty for the time being. You must be exhausted.
[ Kaia sits back in her throne, and raises her gaze at Cullen. ]
Commander.
[ At the call, Cullen straightens again, looking to Kaia and still fighting to maintain that serious poise. ]
Inquisitor. [ He replies, adjusting his stands and pushing his feet together in proper posture. ]
See to it that our new agent is properly attended to. It only makes sense you be held responsible for bringing her to speed.
[ Cullen's heart drops, his stomach flutters, and he's sure his pulse has hiked up to a speed it likely shouldn't. But as always, he does as he is commanded to. He salutes her, and there is a moment that his eyes meet with Kaia's in gratitude for what she's obviously intended. ]
[ He clears his throat as the salute drops. ]
As you command.
[ A better sign than ever for the room to clear and for everyone to get back to work. But Cullen isn't sure what he should feel, and it shows on his face when he takes to the steps before the throne and meets with Neria. For the sake of appearances, and to maintain composure he so desperately wants to keep, he merely waves for her to follow. ]
We, ah... We'll start by briefing you. To my office.
[ Something akin to relief passes through her when the Inquisitor agrees to allow her to stay. She hadn't considered until that moment that she might be sent away or simply interrogated for her sudden appearance, regardless of what she has done in the past. No good deed goes unpunished, they say, and she feels foolish enough that she never thought to wonder what might happen to her, going before the fabled Herald of Andraste.
She says nothing in response to the Inquisitor beyond a simple, militaristic bow and a murmur of thanks as she straightens. The irony that Cullen has been assigned to look after her acclimation is not lost on her, though she neither protests nor seems perturbed by it...at least outwardly. Within, her emotions are at war with one another and she feels dizzy at the idea.
Selfish and foolish is what she is, and now she's going to pay the price for leaping before looking.
Neria follows Cullen out to the parapet, tugging at the neck of the cloak hood in an effort to hide her uncertainty. The chill in the air distracts her only momentarily as they make the walk from the throne room to his office, which stands in its own tower atop the battlements. Her legs shake, unbidden, with each step and she feels as if she might truly lose her nerve at this point. Her hands draw into fists at her sides, hidden by the folds of fabric.
Not this far. I can't give up now.
With a steely, quiet breath, she follows him into his office and awaits what he might say. She has so many questions, less than he must, but her throat feels try and her stomach is in knots, no matter how she might seem untouched by the flurry of development. To her, she is not the ghost standing here. Her past is standing in front of her, older, larger than she remembers. It is difficult not to feel as if she's traveled back in time to a quiet conversation in the corner of Kinloch Hold, or to the dark underbelly of a staircase where he pleaded with her to kill the remaining mages.
Who is this man in front of her, and can she still say she recognizes him after so much time has passed?
As the door closes behind them, she steps aside, and looks up at him. Quietly, she says one thing only: ]
[ He should be thankful for his Inquisitor having relieved him-- And he is, really. Truly, Kaia is a good friend and certainly willing to give him the space he needs. There was an exchange in the throne room that no one else likely understood between them where Kaia recalled the conversation they had about the Hero of Ferelden. About how he wishes he could have said things differently to her. Between the two of them, it appears the Maker has given him the chance. ]
[ But taking it seems far harder than he once believed it may have been. It's easy to romanticize the past and think of what might have been, were things done and said differently. However, that is merely imagination and fantasy. For ten years, Cullen easily romanticized how he might have changed things. And it is in those ten years he would remind himself that she is dead and gone, and that opportunity is merely made in prayer that he can only hope would reach Neria in the heavens. ]
[ The door closes, and she is still there. Still before him and breathing, though the fact that she is solid and not mere vision still is up for debate. A weak debate, really, but Cullen's doubt is a loud presence in his mind. ]
[ A greeting is all she offers. What else could she offer? Cullen couldn't rightly blame her for such a short greeting that may only come as two words, yet speak so much more. How should he feel? Betrayed? Hopeful? Of course, he's happy to see that she is (presumably) alive, but why hide for so long? Lashing out would only show that he hasn't changed, and there is a lengthy silence that follows her greeting where he tries to find the right words. ]
[ His mouth opens, then closes, where he reaches up to cover it for a moment. There is hesitation in his response, and the way Cullen sways where he stands suggests that there is an absolutely difficult internal struggle here. ]
Surely you have more to say than just a simple hello?
[ He makes it a point to bear no anger, even if the temptation is there. You were dead, he wants to say. But this is a delicate situation. ]
You're... Alive. It's been a decade's pass since everything.
[ No, she doesn't know what to say. A greeting is all she has and even that is...lackluster and in poor taste. How does she reconcile the lies she has told with someone she hasn't seen in years? Leliana had known - had always known - of her departure and her reasons. Alistair, too, even if they had their differences. They knew why she made up the story she did, even if they didn't not fully understand or condone it. Neria is grateful, so grateful, for their loyalty, even if it means she must bear the complete burden of breaking the silence and telling the truth now, ten years later.
She looks away, guilty, and wills herself not to crumble too soon. None of them deserve an explanation. None of them would even begin to understand what she has done...
But it isn't right to continue lying if they are willing to give her a chance to help fix the world once more.
Neria opens her mouth, closes it, and sighs. She wishes things could be easier. ]
'Alive' is up for debate, really, but those are semantics we needn't debate. I lived through the final battle, yes; the Archdemon didn't kill me. I have my reasons for it, ones I can't ask for you or anyone else to understand.
[ And telling him would mean exposing Morrigan and the Wardens both. That can come later, when she is ready to divulge the ugliness she carries within her. Instead, she lifts her gaze to look at him, unflinching. ]
I'm sorry. I'm sorry for lying to everyone. It had to be done.
[ To spare Morrigan the literal witch hunt that would follow, to ensure Alistair's claim to the throne and for a family of his own would be uncontested. To keep the Wardens off of her tail until she could rightfully see how the pieces fell into place. She promised herself that she would take care of Morrigan if she needed to...and thus far, there's been no need. Surely she can speak up now, can't she?
But no matter how she tries to form it all into words, she can't. So she opts for what's easiest: focusing the blame upon herself. ]
I've been in Ferelden, helping the Wardens, leading them up until...a few short years ago, just before the Chantry's destruction in Kirkwall. Before the Chantry and the Seekers started looking for the Champion and the Warden-Commander of Ferelden.
[ Because then the secret would have been discovered, and all of the people who worked to keep her safe would be at risk. ]
[ The answer she offers is... Unsubstantial. At least in the sense that he is certain there is so much more to it than a few sentences and a claim of no one else truly being able to understand. But Cullen is willing. Surely, whatever mistakes she has made that has caused her to go into hiding can be made up for? But this is merely Cullen remembering Neria for the women she was, for the person he had admired despite the fact that she bore the abilities of a mage. With so many years distancing them, nothing she says puts his heart or mind at ease. ]
[ But why else would one hide? Cullen is hardly a fool, and it's clear that there is much more to this than just one conversation can fill. But there is enough hurt in his expression to know that he fears the truth. But the truth is necessary. ]
To hide for so long... You've been a celebrated name since the turn of the Fifth Blight. It's one thing to not feel it right to bask in glory, but to disappear?
[ Cullen takes a step forward, but it's a hesitant step. To come closer would be to diminish distance he isn't sure is appropriate to cut. But he wants so very much to know for certain that she is here, that she is real. Though, is that appropriate? Has a decade made them strangers? Cullen is an entirely different man now, far from the Chantry and no longer a templar. It is very clear that his situation mirrors Neria's own, minus the exile. ]
[ Who is she protecting by exiling herself? Should he even ask? There are so many questions that float through Cullen's head... Questions he's afraid to find the answers to, but all he can seem to focus on is the fact that she is here. That she is alive and well, and even if the feelings he had held for her were boyish and ill-advised? They were still feelings, and strong ones that had left an impact which effects him now. ]
I...
[ He doesn't deserve an apology. Not after what he asked of her. ]
You owe me no such thing, Neria. The man I was back then...
[ Cullen looks away from her. This is such a mess and he has no idea where to even start. ]
[ But the answer is fraught with self-doubt and a wavering voice, which she struggles to control. The past ten years have been painful and she has abandoned everything about her former life. Even becoming the Warden-Commander has forced her to leave behind her name and who she was, even for people like Oghren. It's been a struggle to pretend to be someone else. To come clean now, to leave her heart on the table for people to see, is almost too much.
He steps towards her and she holds her ground, waiting for...something. If it was anyone else - the Inquisitor, one of the other Wardens, Irving, anyone else - she might have braced herself for something, for anger and yelling, for even violence. But not from Cullen. There is pain in his expression and that, too, is her fault. Her expression truly crumbles now, sympathy answering distress, and she waits for him to berate her for what she's done. She would deserve it.
And he doesn't.
Neria looks up at him and, in the uncertain silence that follows, she steps towards him. She reaches for his arm, damn propriety, to touch his wrist and vambrace. ]
You were a child, Cullen. So was I.
[ It doesn't excuse either of them. But she understands. What he said to her that day hasn't left her. If Irving hadn't survived, if she hadn't been absolutely certain that he was still in his right mind... Who can say what might have happened? What had been done to Cullen was inexcusable. ]
They...We hurt you. It's all right. It never should have happened. [ And softly, for both of them, she says again: ] I'm sorry.
[ To place blame and foster a cruel suspicion to Neria would make him a hypocrite. The things that Cullen has done, the things he has said... He is hardly a man in position to hold her under the same kind of scrutiny he believes he deserves. They both made greatly heavy decisions based on the guilt they carry, and that much he understands. Perhaps asking questions, making her tell the complete truth right now is not appropriate. So he won't pry. At least not for now, and perhaps in a better situation where the tension in the room is not so tangible. ]
[ Neria standing before him is a reminder not just of what he'd done, but of the torture that was inflicted upon him. He hasn't forgotten what happened in that tower, nor will he ever. What those abominations had done to him reflect on his character now, shape him as the man that she reaches out and touches. And even if the reminder paints an even more painful expression on his face, he can't help but find focus elsewhere in the simple touch she gives to his wrist. ]
No.
[ Nevermind what has caused her to go into hiding. What matters is the here and now. When Cullen finds even a shred of comfort in the warmth of her hand, he immediately seeks out more. He steps forward again, taking that hand which grabs him if only to pull her in for a quite possibly inappropriate embrace. It doesn't matter. What happened doesn't matter. ]
[ What matters is that she is alive, healthy, and certainly real. Cullen can feel her solid form fit perfectly in his arms, where he desperately embraces her and holds her tight and finds his face buried in her long, thick hair. ]
I beg of you, stop apologizing. If there is anyone who owes such an apology, it is myself. For years, I regretted what I had done and said, and only the Maker remained to judge me.
I hold no ill-will for you, Neria. What reasons you have matter not. All that matters is that you are here.
[ He closes his eyes tightly, taking in her warmth for what it is. Real and alive. ]
[ No, she wants to say. He has every reason to mistrust her and to know of her crimes. She is a coward, running away instead of facing the truth and letting the world know what she has done, the path she has taken. He shouldn't respect her, shouldn't even begin to apologize. And she starts to tell him this...but then he pulls her closer by the arm and envelopes her in a hug, and whatever she wishes to say dies in her throat.
It has been too long since she's had real contact with anyone, much less someone who is giving her the chance and the ability to continue to remain silent. And most of all, he is glad that she is alive, and that is what cracks her defenses so thoroughly.
Neria's breathing is shaky in his hold and for several moments, she remains still, too stunned to move. But then she wraps her arms around him in a tight and warm embrace, and refuses to let go. Her eyes sting from a well the threatens to burst and she begs herself, rages against a true dissolution of her mask, and buries her face in his shoulder.
Maker, she is so weak. ]
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
[ He told her not to apologize but she can't stop, not now that she is being offered such kindness. It compounds her guilt, even if she wishes it wouldn't. ]
I'm... Please, I should have been here sooner. I should have done something sooner than this.
[ For all they know, the world could be ending, and here she is in the eleventh hour to aid what might be a losing cause. It will be worth it, she knows, but she hopes it will be enough. ]
[ It's very clear that this situation runs much further deep than what appears first-hand. But Cullen can't rightly find himself the energy to focus on that, especially when he's so engrossed in the reality of her still existing. It's a sign from the Maker that he promise to cherish and not take lightly this time, and he refuses to believe otherwise. ]
[ It's hard to truly feel her with his armor in the way, but the weight of her is there, and he can feel her under his gloved hands where the warmth radiates. He can smell her hair, touched with the mountain air that has surrounded her in her long journey. And she is warm, solid yet soft even through the garments that have protected her in her travels. With his eyes closed, it brings the fact of her existence home when her voice is so familiar, even if age has slightly altered it through the years. ]
[ Cullen doesn't let go, and his grip only tightens when she returns the gesture. It's something they have never done to one-another, even when she had been his charge. Such a thing was inappropriate, and even the suggestion had him running away like a coward. But he is different now, and he will maintain such a fact even here. ]
Stop. [ He shakes his head. There she goes again, apologizing. ]
Whether you were to arrive at the start or as we stand a mere inch before Corypheus, you're here. That's all that matters.
[ Cullen exhales heavily, his body swaying a touch as he continues to embrace her. ]
You've no idea how happy I am to see you alive and well, my lady.
Please tell me it is actually you. That my mind has truly ceased the torture and I will not awaken from this.
[ It isn't the truth. It isn't even a reconciliation. But it is something, a chance to do something with the time she has left and with the resources she has. No more running, no more hiding. She exhales against his shoulder and holds him even tighter, even as some of the tension in her bleeds out. It's a start. She will have to accept it for the time being. Cullen cannot give her the forgiveness she wants, even if she wishes he could.
It doesn't occur to her that they are being inappropriate. Ten years have passed and they are no longer children; she ceased to be his charge the day Duncan took her from Kinloch Hold, and whatever there could have been has been left to rot over the years. But she needs this, needs his hold, and she soaks it up like a dying woman starved for water.
At last, she makes a sound that is almost like a sob, a wavering lilt of a laugh, and she pulls away to look at him. He's still so much taller than she is, and from this distance, she can get a better look at his face. Time has changed him, and yet he seems almost healthier now, a man full grown into himself. Commander is what he is called now, not unlike herself, and it brings a very small but sad smile to her face.
With some reluctance, she lets go of him and removes her gloves, casting them to the floor at their feet. As much as she wants to continue holding him - and still will, if he permits - she lifts both hands to his face. She cradles his face and looks at him for a long time, and then, she nods. ]
[ Cullen can only do so much when it comes to her forgiving herself. He's certain his own forgiveness does nothing to ease her mind, but if it can help her find comfort in her stay here, he will give whatever he can. The will have ample time to discuss the many years that have passed them and changed them. For now, he is content in basking in her presence. ]
[ He doesn't shy away from her touch, and actually finds himself comforted by it. Neria removes her gloves, leaving nothing but flesh upon flesh when her palms take to his scruffy cheeks and he's able to manage a genuine smile for her, weak and sad as it may be. He finds her presence a gift, even with the past that curses them. He reaches up, cupping both hands that hold him and he shuts his eyes a moment to take it all in. ]
Praise the Maker and Andraste for making that so.
[ When his eyes open, he is silent a moment, just looking at her. It is true that she is no longer is charge, though the need for professionalism is still there at the reminder that they are now comrades in arms. They will both command troops, she to the Grey Wardens and he with the Inquisition's army. Still, he reaches for her, one hand letting go to drift down her arm and at her shoulder, holding firmly. ]
You look no different. Time has treated you well and fate has left you healthy. I'm glad.
[ It's strange to see him so relieved to find her well. Ten years is a long time and she had assumed - wrongfully, she now realizes - that people would forget and move on. She realizes, belatedly, that the people she has interacted with the most have never known her to be missing, never had to mourn her loss. They simply knew and carried on the facade. She will need to apologize to him. Not now, perhaps, when he is adamant about refusing them...but another time, when she can be honest, when she can possibly speak of what has happened.
For now, she lets herself be selfish. To have contact with someone, with someone she knew once upon a time, is more of a gift than she should have, and yet she won't refuse it. It is good, she realizes, to see him healthy and alive, to see him helping the world.
Her smile finds a little more life in it and she almost manages a laugh, weak as it might be. ]
Not as well as you, I think. You look--
[ Finally, the potential for inappropriateness seems to hit her, because she doesn't quite know how to frame it in a way that won't be seen as potentially lewd. She means nothing by it, but Cullen has filled out his armor, in a sense; he is no longer so scruffy or young, and gone are the dark circles under his eyes and the pale skin. He looks different. ]
You look far better than the last time I saw you. [ As painful as it is for her to say it. She doesn't want to bring up such a dark time for either of them. ] I'm glad. And I'm...very glad to see a familiar face. It has been a long, long time since I've seen much of anyone.
[ She doesn't want this to end, this small port in the storm, her elation and relief. But, in reality, it has to. They needn't resort to talking about the past or painful things, but they have to move on. ]
How did you get here? Are you still-- How did they let you leave your post?
[ Though Cullen's memories of the past are far from pleasant, Neria is a shining beacon among the many regrets and disasters he had seen. While her reply seems far too flattering to him and enough for him to vehemently deny, he takes it with a smile and a light chuckle. He can find nostalgia in this, remembering conversations they had had in the past that he isn't necessarily proud of but can look back upon with some fondness. ]
You flatter me.
[ He still says it, and there may be a slight tint of pink over his nose at the prospect of acknowledging her compliments. Cullen doesn't let go of her, but he allows his hands to take hers which touch his face, holding them loosely at least while the moment is still strong with feeling. ]
While there are friends here I have known for some time, I'm afraid none have impacted me the way you did. There is much comfort in seeing such a fond and familiar face amidst all of this chaos. To see you healthy and in one piece is more than a gift.
[ At the mention of his "post", however, he makes a face. It bears only a brief sense of disappointment. ]
While I am inclined indulge you on the details, I am certain you are far too tired for the entire story.
I've left The Order, thus dropping my place as a Templar. Cassandra sought my assistance as Commander to the Inquisition's troops. What little we had at the time, at least.
After what I saw in Kinloch and in Kirkwall... It became very clear that my views on the Chantry were misguided and wrong.
[ He doesn't quite look at her when he tells her. Especially when she's well aware of what happened to him in the Circle Tower. There is no need. ]
[ She shakes her head, giving him a small smile that, perhaps, betrays a bit of humor. ]
It isn't flattery if it's true.
[ And is the most polite thing she can say without going into details neither of them are in any position to discuss it further. Instead, she turns to grip his hands tightly, dropping them from his face so they can hang between them. She says nothing for some time, allowing him to talk. In the end, she only squeezes his hands tightly in an effort to comfort him, to show him he isn't alone. But even she has to sigh. ]
You aren't the only one who's felt...led astray.
[ Not simply the Chantry but the Wardens. She held her fellow soldiers in high esteem, but the things Clarel had done, even misguided, had been wrong. The things she has seen in reports and in letters from the First Warden have been far from acceptable. But those things, too, are for another time. ]
But you're here now. You're leading the largest army Thedas has known in recent history against a monster. You're saving the world.
[ And she hopes he realizes the full extent of what that means for him and for everyone around them. ]
[ Cullen tilts his head at the furthering of her compliment, if only as his small attempt at argument. But nevertheless, he takes it for what it is. Despite being rather horrible at taking them. He could say a few things about how she's grown, but he doesn't want to appear, well... Deviant. Or lewd. Or anything that could possibly allude to the attraction he held for her once upon a time. He's still rather embarrassed about that. ]
[ Yet here they are, holding hands and sharing an affection Cullen has likely never provided to anyone else. He's married to his work, a busy man and hardly in a position to seek a relationship. Even if he wants one. But that doesn't stop him from accepting her gestures and finding comfort in them. It's a reminder of her existence and how real it is. Cullen almost clings to the relief he feels when he can feel her pulse each time her hands squeeze his. ]
[ He smiles a bit brighter at her mention of him saving the world, how he leads the largest army in Thedas. That is certainly why he is here and why he became a Templar in the first place. ]
And so are you.
[ Cullen can't help but remind her, even with her only being here a short time. He tugs lightly on her hands at that remark. ]
What we were holds no strength against what we are now. Neria, I would be honored to fight beside you again. You were brave to come here.
We have the Herald of Andraste with the Hero of Ferelden at her side. Corypheus stands no chance against us. You've no idea how much your joining means not just to me, but to the rest of Thedas.
[ And so are you. She almost wants to sigh at how optimistic and hopeful he sounds. He doesn't understand. ]
Yes, the very dead Hero of Ferelden. Thedas isn't going to rejoice at my sudden appearance. If anything, there's going to be a great deal for me - and the Inquisition, by extension - to answer for.
[ I did this to you all, she reminds herself, for better or worse. She will be able to lead the Warden armies and be a competent ally to the Inquisition, that much is true. She has information that can aid them. But that by no means will allow them to slip under the ripples her appearance is going to cause. ]
You must understand that Ferelden will be asking questions. King Alistair will probably contact the Inquisitor. Weisshaupt will have their own troubles, if they even bother to make contact after the disaster they've allowed.
[ And, frankly, she has half of a mind to call on them first. ]
And that's not including anyone else who's believed me dead. Those nobles will spin some story about how this was a fabricated ruse to give your Inquisitor an even more glowing reputation.
I wasn't brave to come here, Cullen. I was guilty and desperate. I didn't ride in with a miracle strapped to the back of my horse.
[ Cullen frowns at how the conversation turns, though he isn't surprised. Neria is very right in her saying she has quite a bit to answer for. The Inquisition will have just as much to answer for after having accepted her help without question. Even Cullen is rather surprised that Kaia allowed her to stay without so much as a set of questions beyond "Are you who you say you are". Perhaps it was in the way Cullen had addressed her that Kaia found trust in the woman, though such a path taken is not without the potential of unstable ground. ]
[ It is clear that things will not be easy, that they have much to discuss and cater to along with the rest of the mess they have before them. While Cullen is thankful merely for Neria's presence, she has a point. The frown falters, left behind for his normal, serious expression that has gotten him so much teasing among his peers. But it is necessary. ]
Whatever consequences follow your alliance and loyalty to the Inquisition, ten years passed or not, we will accept them. The Inquisitor has a good sense of judgment, and we all trust she has a plan worth awaiting results for.
[ With a sigh, he looks down, shaking his head. ]
I've no patience for the dealings of nobles and the rumors they spin. If that is what they will see fit to spread among the lands, Josephine is properly equipped to deal with such matters.
I understand your concerns, but try and consider your joining the Inquisition as your second chance. As I have.
[ There's a moment that he lingers, thumbs brushing over her knuckles before he finally lets go of her hands. Cullen makes way to his desk, shuffling through papers that scatter the surface of it. ]
I will see to it that you are provided your own room. You should allow yourself some time to clean up, visit our healers to ensure the journey has not given you sickness or injury. I'm sure you are hungry.
[ Even amidst all of his worry and shock, there is still much to do. Cullen pauses a moment when he looks back at her. An expression of sympathy back to take over what had once been serious. ]
This... Is also my quarters. Should you require anything from me, you know where to find me. We will begin our duties in the morning and delegate as needed.
[ Her second chance. She opens her mouth to argue and then opts to be silent, looking away. Neria lets out a heavy and defeated sigh, letting the conversation drop. They will spin in circles all afternoon and evening, she thinks, and...he is right. She is tired and it would be nice to attempt to rest. She wishes to see Leliana and to update her, make sure her friend's cover isn't blown as well. It was a convincing little dance she put on, pretending not to know Neria would be coming or that she still lived. She only hopes no one has begun to suspect.
Neria finds she misses the warmth of his hands already as he pulls away, but they have work to do and very little time with which to do it. She closes her hands in on themselves and lets them drop to her sides, and she gives Cullen a nod of acknowledgement and appreciation. ]
Whatever can be spared. I'm used to more dire and solitary living accommodations.
[ And she lifts a hand before he can ask, shaking her head. ]
Which I'll speak of another time. For now, let's-- Let's just do what we need to. I suspect the Inquisitor will want her answers soon enough.
[ There's no need to rush the disappointment that will follow her interrogation, whether it's by Kaia herself, the ambassador, or even Leliana. She has to prepare herself for the resulting fallout she expects even now.
Neria lifts her head to examine the room, only now spotting the ladder leading upwards. She mouths silently, this is your room? because it's such a ridiculous thing to ask, but she slowly, reluctantly, nods once more. There will be time enough for questions. For now, she lets it rest.
The next few hours she spends relatively alone in her room, eating dinner, preparing herself, and unpacking some of her belongings. Leliana comes to see her only in the dead of night and with no one the wiser to greet her and give her what updates she can, as well as quietly chiding her for making such a scene without informing her first. They are much alike and always have been, always looking for ways to control the situation. It can't be helped, and even if she is glad to see Leliana and cannot contain much of her relief and delight, it is a bittersweet reunion, not unlike the one she had earlier with Cullen. Her presence hasn't made things easier for the moment...but it will get better, Leliana promises. No more lies, no more games.
She wishes she could believe that.
But the evening passes as any other would, and she finds no sleep in her new quarters. Nightmares continue to haunt her and she can no longer tell if they are the ministrations of Corypheus or the Taint itself, and in truth, she has stopped trying to discern anything from them. For some time, she lays in bed, frustrated and fatigued, unable to sleep. And she begins to debate dangerous thoughts from time to time, whether she should explore or go to speak to the other Wardens, or if she should take Cullen up on his offer.
Hours pass before she makes a decision. Eventually, she does find her way to Cullen's office, knocking softly on the door. She's made her peace with it and reasons that if he doesn't answer, then he is sleeping, and she can go back to her room with no harm done. ]
[ The entirety of the day seems to drag slower than usual, where Cullen finds himself almost having too much time rather than the usual too little. But even in the abundance of time he has found himself, little has been done. He manages as much as he had promised: a room with clean clothing and linens, a meal prepared and a healer to visit her once she is settled. Anything else beyond that is barely touched, and when he tries he finds himself distracted by thoughts of her. Of the young charge he had ten years ago. ]
[ Cullen hasn't necessarily met his past with peace. There are still many regrets that haunt him in the night, the nightmares of battles he had been in that still plague him and may never cease. But in the passing time, he had found at least a way to deal with them. Now? It seems harder. With the pure symbol of the worst of his deeds standing before him, remembering him better than anyone else here... Will it help? Or will it make things worse. He couldn't say. But what he is certain of is that he is grateful she is alive and well, and just as grateful to work beside her again. ]
[ Even with his inability to get any work done, he still tries, still sits at his desk staring at the dozens of papers scattered before him. The words make little sense at this hour, and the words blur together where he is rendered illiterate and it gives him a headache. Sometimes they fizzle into a language that makes no sense, or appear as puddles of ink on the paper. Other times they all form into her name or shape themselves into a drawing of the Harrowing Chamber door he was imprisoned before. Cullen is left with his face in his hand, elbow at the table keeping him from faceplanting into it. ]
[ It's then that he hears a soft knocking at his door, and Cullen straightens himself. For a moment, he stares at it, not quite registering that someone is there but then finding stress in who it might be when he does. ]
[ There's a long enough pause that she doesn't think he is awake any longer, and Neria debates whether she should go. But then she hears him calling again and she pauses, hesitating again. She's been full of these moments today and she lets out a shaky exhale before she opens the door to step inside.
This is...ridiculous. She should leave him be. But he offered and, in truth, she feels she owes him for all he's done to comfort her now. As the seconds tick by, she feels even more uncertain, and she wants to be clear with him, if only him. At least Cullen has attempted to understand in some small measure.
Neria stands at the door, barely inside of his office, and she exhales. She gives Cullen a very small smile. ]
[ Of course it's her. Who else would it be? Even his recruits don't come to see him this late at night because they are either in the tavern or sleeping. Cullen usually expects to get the bulk of his work done at this hour, and he should be, but there is too much on his mind keeping him from it. The woman standing at the entrance to his room, in particular. ]
[ Still, he's happy to see her. To know that she is still truly here, and Cullen stands to greet her. Maybe too quickly, and his hip bumps the desk when he rises. He regrets not being in armor at that point, because he certainly strikes a nerve in the impact. While he doesn't completely show it, it's obvious he's hurt something. ]
[ But he tries to distract himself, clearing his throat. ]
I--
This is usually the hour I make the most progress in my work. Far less distractions, and I...
[ Can never seem to get any sleep. He wants to say it, but he refrains. ]
I usually have no visitors at this time.
[ With one hand at the hip he struck and the other lifted, he gestures with it for her to come inside. ]
Please, come in. Are you finding difficulty getting comfortable?
[ Neria winces sympathetically when he strikes himself, giving him a wan smile even as she shakes her head. She lifts her hand on instinct-- And then stops, letting it drop. She can't use magic here, not on him, not for any reason. Somewhat awkwardly, she steps further into the room, making certain that the door shuts behind her. ]
You mean you stay up and do work. Work that's...probably not necessary to do at this hour.
[ Pot, kettle. She can't criticize. Neria rubs lightly at the inside of her arm. ]
It's not about being comfortable-- The accommodations are very nice. I've simply...never been much of a sleeper. Not for a long time.
[ And besides being in a new place, potentially dangerous in every way, isn't of much help. But the bed is comfortable, the room warm, and she's eaten. It isn't as if she hasn't been provided for in any way. ]
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But it doesn't stop her from feeling guilty.
Had she been there, could she have stopped all of this from happening? Had she remained at her post, could she have been able to persuade Clarel to stop, or even prevented some of the Ferelden Wardens from following her? It wracks her like a poison in her chest, feeding on self-deprecation and continued frustration. This could have be prevented. She could have done something. And here she is, researching, practicing unsightly magics to save her family when she should have been at their sides.
It takes a tremendous amount of personal persuasion not to fall back into the crippling doubt that comes with that guilt, to remain in hiding for continued months or even years in the wake of her failure. But sure enough, the force of her determination outweighs her blame, and within days, she is riding to Ferelden. From there, it is another week's journey to the mountains, following all of the other soldiers and pilgrims intent on seeing the Herald of Andraste, a trickling flow of individuals who lead her straight to Skyhold's doorstep. No one questions her, not when she refuses to wear her colors or her armor. They liken her to a mercenary, if nothing else, and it is almost embarrassingly simple for her to wander in the gates and into the great hall, where Inquisitor Trevelyan herself conducts business with sneering nobles and the guilty alike, judging and doling out commands where it suits her.
Frankly, she's impressed. A noble Marcher takes charge like one born to it, neither lenient nor shirking in what she feels is her duty. Whatever she might have felt before, whether she doubted the Inquisitor's capability or felt anger that the Wardens felt forced to take knee to her, it didn't matter. This was a leader she could respect. But she was also handling people who weren't her responsibility.
And let it never be said she didn't at least attempt to be subtle about her entrance. She waits until the other nobles and soldiers have finished conducting business with the Inquisitor to approach the throne. She pulls down the hood of her cloak as she does so and at least maintains a respectful distance. ]
Inquisitor Trevelyan, if you have a moment.
[ She gives her a wry smile, the insanity of the situation not lost on her. The Warden-Commander who disappeared - or died, who knows? - has suddenly turned up on their doorstep. ]
I heard that the Wardens had no one to lead them and thought you could use some help.
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[ And her advisors certainly showed just as much discontent. But they were here, settled, and there was nothing more any of them could do. Each step forward has brought some gift, and when Kaia is advised that she has a visitor awaiting her before the throne, there is promise more than surprise. ]
[ That is, until this Warden-Commander lowers her hood and reveals herself. There is enough gasps in the room to cause echo, shock among each and every person within a good enough viewpoint. While the Inquisitor remains calm, serene with a matching expression, the advisors around her show otherwise. ]
[ Especially Cullen. ]
[ The Commander stands in shock, clear on his face when the whispers "It's the Hero of Ferelden..." "She died at the hands of the Archdemon!", quiet calls to the Maker and Andraste where he is dumbfounded and shocked all the same. ]
[ She had died. It was ten years ago when Cullen had heard the news of his former charge having passed in her bravery. So many years where he had assumed moving on to be the only choice, where he had moved on despite his personal doubts and desires to change what he had done before her. His hands rested upon the hilt of his sword, but drop at the sight of her. ]
[ Kaia is prepared to speak to her, but Cullen raises a hand, stepping forward. ]
Neria? By the Maker, is that--
[ He looks to Kaia, still raising his hand as request. ]
Forgive me for overstepping, Inquisitor, but I...
[ But Kaia hardly takes it as an insult, not when she is fully aware of Cullen's past. Not when she very much knows what he is likely feeling. Cullen is speechless, realizing he's interrupted rudely and he forces himself to take a step back. Kaia wears a sympathetic gaze, though it doesn't last long, and she looks to Neria. ]
It's not often we see a ghost walk through our doors. And by the way the color in my Commander's face has completely washed off and those around you, I'm to assume you have made quite the disappearing act.
Are you who they say you are?
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If she thinks on it, she'll lose her nerve. There will be time for that later, and all the explanations that come with it. ]
I don't believe ghosts feel hunger, Inquisitor, because I'm certainly famished from the trek up this frozen mountain.
[ Neria steels herself, stands a little straighter, an act that makes her seem more imposing to those behind her than to the small group she stands in front of. She is a commander, not a frightened little mage in a tower. ]
If you have any Ferelden Wardens with you, they will be able to confirm my identity. My name is Neria Surana, Hero of the Fifth Blight, Warden-Commander of the Ferelden sect of the Grey Wardens.
[ She breathes out, glancing only briefly at Cullen before she continues. ]
The Grey Wardens have done the world a great disservice and I am here to rectify that mistake. I am offering someone to lead them under your banner and to keep them from falling to corruption and misguidance again. You are fighting a monster that we are obliged to wage war against, no matter the cost.
[ But Neria hears the Calling too, no matter how much of an illusion that may be, and she cannot completely say she trusts herself. She'll be damned, however, if she lets something like Corypheus kill them all. ]
The world is falling into ruin, Inquisitor. I need to be here now.
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[ He is forced to stand still, to take back the posture that is expected of him. Cullen is the Commander, a force to be reckoned with and a visual of leadership underneath that of the Inquisitor. In the presence of the throne, he can't let himself slip up like that. He mentally berates himself for it, but his gaze doesn't leave her, even if the look of shock is forced away. But he is a giant bundle of nerves and tension, stiffly standing where he awaits his Inquisitor's decision. ]
I know who you are. You're the famed Hero of Ferelden, the very same person who supposedly died at the hands of the Archdemon.
[ Despite such a remark, Kaia smirks. ]
You're obviously here and in good health, which means you've succeeded in hiding away for ten years. We share common ground in the weight that's been dropped on our shoulders.
[ There is no argument to Neria's point. And Kaia could use all types of allies. She looks to Cullen again, brow perked as she leans forward. He looks a right mess, despite his desperate attempts to appear otherwise. Once more, she looks back to her guest, realizing it best to shorten this matter for the sake of a reunion. Cullen is her friend, and Kaia is not beyond allowing those she cares for to take time for themselves. ]
The Inquisition does not turn their nose at valuable help. I'm sure we have many questions to ask you, particularly having to do with why you saw fit to hide away for so many years. Especially when legend speaks rather highly of you.
We'll just consider that modesty for the time being. You must be exhausted.
[ Kaia sits back in her throne, and raises her gaze at Cullen. ]
Commander.
[ At the call, Cullen straightens again, looking to Kaia and still fighting to maintain that serious poise. ]
Inquisitor. [ He replies, adjusting his stands and pushing his feet together in proper posture. ]
See to it that our new agent is properly attended to. It only makes sense you be held responsible for bringing her to speed.
[ Cullen's heart drops, his stomach flutters, and he's sure his pulse has hiked up to a speed it likely shouldn't. But as always, he does as he is commanded to. He salutes her, and there is a moment that his eyes meet with Kaia's in gratitude for what she's obviously intended. ]
[ He clears his throat as the salute drops. ]
As you command.
[ A better sign than ever for the room to clear and for everyone to get back to work. But Cullen isn't sure what he should feel, and it shows on his face when he takes to the steps before the throne and meets with Neria. For the sake of appearances, and to maintain composure he so desperately wants to keep, he merely waves for her to follow. ]
We, ah... We'll start by briefing you. To my office.
[ Maker, why do his feet feel so heavy? ]
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She says nothing in response to the Inquisitor beyond a simple, militaristic bow and a murmur of thanks as she straightens. The irony that Cullen has been assigned to look after her acclimation is not lost on her, though she neither protests nor seems perturbed by it...at least outwardly. Within, her emotions are at war with one another and she feels dizzy at the idea.
Selfish and foolish is what she is, and now she's going to pay the price for leaping before looking.
Neria follows Cullen out to the parapet, tugging at the neck of the cloak hood in an effort to hide her uncertainty. The chill in the air distracts her only momentarily as they make the walk from the throne room to his office, which stands in its own tower atop the battlements. Her legs shake, unbidden, with each step and she feels as if she might truly lose her nerve at this point. Her hands draw into fists at her sides, hidden by the folds of fabric.
Not this far. I can't give up now.
With a steely, quiet breath, she follows him into his office and awaits what he might say. She has so many questions, less than he must, but her throat feels try and her stomach is in knots, no matter how she might seem untouched by the flurry of development. To her, she is not the ghost standing here. Her past is standing in front of her, older, larger than she remembers. It is difficult not to feel as if she's traveled back in time to a quiet conversation in the corner of Kinloch Hold, or to the dark underbelly of a staircase where he pleaded with her to kill the remaining mages.
Who is this man in front of her, and can she still say she recognizes him after so much time has passed?
As the door closes behind them, she steps aside, and looks up at him. Quietly, she says one thing only: ]
Hello, Cullen.
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[ But taking it seems far harder than he once believed it may have been. It's easy to romanticize the past and think of what might have been, were things done and said differently. However, that is merely imagination and fantasy. For ten years, Cullen easily romanticized how he might have changed things. And it is in those ten years he would remind himself that she is dead and gone, and that opportunity is merely made in prayer that he can only hope would reach Neria in the heavens. ]
[ The door closes, and she is still there. Still before him and breathing, though the fact that she is solid and not mere vision still is up for debate. A weak debate, really, but Cullen's doubt is a loud presence in his mind. ]
[ A greeting is all she offers. What else could she offer? Cullen couldn't rightly blame her for such a short greeting that may only come as two words, yet speak so much more. How should he feel? Betrayed? Hopeful? Of course, he's happy to see that she is (presumably) alive, but why hide for so long? Lashing out would only show that he hasn't changed, and there is a lengthy silence that follows her greeting where he tries to find the right words. ]
[ His mouth opens, then closes, where he reaches up to cover it for a moment. There is hesitation in his response, and the way Cullen sways where he stands suggests that there is an absolutely difficult internal struggle here. ]
Surely you have more to say than just a simple hello?
[ He makes it a point to bear no anger, even if the temptation is there. You were dead, he wants to say. But this is a delicate situation. ]
You're... Alive. It's been a decade's pass since everything.
[ Why?? ]
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She looks away, guilty, and wills herself not to crumble too soon. None of them deserve an explanation. None of them would even begin to understand what she has done...
But it isn't right to continue lying if they are willing to give her a chance to help fix the world once more.
Neria opens her mouth, closes it, and sighs. She wishes things could be easier. ]
'Alive' is up for debate, really, but those are semantics we needn't debate. I lived through the final battle, yes; the Archdemon didn't kill me. I have my reasons for it, ones I can't ask for you or anyone else to understand.
[ And telling him would mean exposing Morrigan and the Wardens both. That can come later, when she is ready to divulge the ugliness she carries within her. Instead, she lifts her gaze to look at him, unflinching. ]
I'm sorry. I'm sorry for lying to everyone. It had to be done.
[ To spare Morrigan the literal witch hunt that would follow, to ensure Alistair's claim to the throne and for a family of his own would be uncontested. To keep the Wardens off of her tail until she could rightfully see how the pieces fell into place. She promised herself that she would take care of Morrigan if she needed to...and thus far, there's been no need. Surely she can speak up now, can't she?
But no matter how she tries to form it all into words, she can't. So she opts for what's easiest: focusing the blame upon herself. ]
I've been in Ferelden, helping the Wardens, leading them up until...a few short years ago, just before the Chantry's destruction in Kirkwall. Before the Chantry and the Seekers started looking for the Champion and the Warden-Commander of Ferelden.
[ Because then the secret would have been discovered, and all of the people who worked to keep her safe would be at risk. ]
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[ But why else would one hide? Cullen is hardly a fool, and it's clear that there is much more to this than just one conversation can fill. But there is enough hurt in his expression to know that he fears the truth. But the truth is necessary. ]
To hide for so long... You've been a celebrated name since the turn of the Fifth Blight. It's one thing to not feel it right to bask in glory, but to disappear?
[ Cullen takes a step forward, but it's a hesitant step. To come closer would be to diminish distance he isn't sure is appropriate to cut. But he wants so very much to know for certain that she is here, that she is real. Though, is that appropriate? Has a decade made them strangers? Cullen is an entirely different man now, far from the Chantry and no longer a templar. It is very clear that his situation mirrors Neria's own, minus the exile. ]
[ Who is she protecting by exiling herself? Should he even ask? There are so many questions that float through Cullen's head... Questions he's afraid to find the answers to, but all he can seem to focus on is the fact that she is here. That she is alive and well, and even if the feelings he had held for her were boyish and ill-advised? They were still feelings, and strong ones that had left an impact which effects him now. ]
I...
[ He doesn't deserve an apology. Not after what he asked of her. ]
You owe me no such thing, Neria. The man I was back then...
[ Cullen looks away from her. This is such a mess and he has no idea where to even start. ]
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[ But the answer is fraught with self-doubt and a wavering voice, which she struggles to control. The past ten years have been painful and she has abandoned everything about her former life. Even becoming the Warden-Commander has forced her to leave behind her name and who she was, even for people like Oghren. It's been a struggle to pretend to be someone else. To come clean now, to leave her heart on the table for people to see, is almost too much.
He steps towards her and she holds her ground, waiting for...something. If it was anyone else - the Inquisitor, one of the other Wardens, Irving, anyone else - she might have braced herself for something, for anger and yelling, for even violence. But not from Cullen. There is pain in his expression and that, too, is her fault. Her expression truly crumbles now, sympathy answering distress, and she waits for him to berate her for what she's done. She would deserve it.
And he doesn't.
Neria looks up at him and, in the uncertain silence that follows, she steps towards him. She reaches for his arm, damn propriety, to touch his wrist and vambrace. ]
You were a child, Cullen. So was I.
[ It doesn't excuse either of them. But she understands. What he said to her that day hasn't left her. If Irving hadn't survived, if she hadn't been absolutely certain that he was still in his right mind... Who can say what might have happened? What had been done to Cullen was inexcusable. ]
They...We hurt you. It's all right. It never should have happened. [ And softly, for both of them, she says again: ] I'm sorry.
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[ Neria standing before him is a reminder not just of what he'd done, but of the torture that was inflicted upon him. He hasn't forgotten what happened in that tower, nor will he ever. What those abominations had done to him reflect on his character now, shape him as the man that she reaches out and touches. And even if the reminder paints an even more painful expression on his face, he can't help but find focus elsewhere in the simple touch she gives to his wrist. ]
No.
[ Nevermind what has caused her to go into hiding. What matters is the here and now. When Cullen finds even a shred of comfort in the warmth of her hand, he immediately seeks out more. He steps forward again, taking that hand which grabs him if only to pull her in for a quite possibly inappropriate embrace. It doesn't matter. What happened doesn't matter. ]
[ What matters is that she is alive, healthy, and certainly real. Cullen can feel her solid form fit perfectly in his arms, where he desperately embraces her and holds her tight and finds his face buried in her long, thick hair. ]
I beg of you, stop apologizing. If there is anyone who owes such an apology, it is myself. For years, I regretted what I had done and said, and only the Maker remained to judge me.
I hold no ill-will for you, Neria. What reasons you have matter not. All that matters is that you are here.
[ He closes his eyes tightly, taking in her warmth for what it is. Real and alive. ]
And thank the Maker for that.
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It has been too long since she's had real contact with anyone, much less someone who is giving her the chance and the ability to continue to remain silent. And most of all, he is glad that she is alive, and that is what cracks her defenses so thoroughly.
Neria's breathing is shaky in his hold and for several moments, she remains still, too stunned to move. But then she wraps her arms around him in a tight and warm embrace, and refuses to let go. Her eyes sting from a well the threatens to burst and she begs herself, rages against a true dissolution of her mask, and buries her face in his shoulder.
Maker, she is so weak. ]
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
[ He told her not to apologize but she can't stop, not now that she is being offered such kindness. It compounds her guilt, even if she wishes it wouldn't. ]
I'm... Please, I should have been here sooner. I should have done something sooner than this.
[ For all they know, the world could be ending, and here she is in the eleventh hour to aid what might be a losing cause. It will be worth it, she knows, but she hopes it will be enough. ]
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[ It's hard to truly feel her with his armor in the way, but the weight of her is there, and he can feel her under his gloved hands where the warmth radiates. He can smell her hair, touched with the mountain air that has surrounded her in her long journey. And she is warm, solid yet soft even through the garments that have protected her in her travels. With his eyes closed, it brings the fact of her existence home when her voice is so familiar, even if age has slightly altered it through the years. ]
[ Cullen doesn't let go, and his grip only tightens when she returns the gesture. It's something they have never done to one-another, even when she had been his charge. Such a thing was inappropriate, and even the suggestion had him running away like a coward. But he is different now, and he will maintain such a fact even here. ]
Stop. [ He shakes his head. There she goes again, apologizing. ]
Whether you were to arrive at the start or as we stand a mere inch before Corypheus, you're here. That's all that matters.
[ Cullen exhales heavily, his body swaying a touch as he continues to embrace her. ]
You've no idea how happy I am to see you alive and well, my lady.
Please tell me it is actually you. That my mind has truly ceased the torture and I will not awaken from this.
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It doesn't occur to her that they are being inappropriate. Ten years have passed and they are no longer children; she ceased to be his charge the day Duncan took her from Kinloch Hold, and whatever there could have been has been left to rot over the years. But she needs this, needs his hold, and she soaks it up like a dying woman starved for water.
At last, she makes a sound that is almost like a sob, a wavering lilt of a laugh, and she pulls away to look at him. He's still so much taller than she is, and from this distance, she can get a better look at his face. Time has changed him, and yet he seems almost healthier now, a man full grown into himself. Commander is what he is called now, not unlike herself, and it brings a very small but sad smile to her face.
With some reluctance, she lets go of him and removes her gloves, casting them to the floor at their feet. As much as she wants to continue holding him - and still will, if he permits - she lifts both hands to his face. She cradles his face and looks at him for a long time, and then, she nods. ]
It is me, Cullen. I'm here.
[ Alive and breathing, she is there with him. ]
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[ He doesn't shy away from her touch, and actually finds himself comforted by it. Neria removes her gloves, leaving nothing but flesh upon flesh when her palms take to his scruffy cheeks and he's able to manage a genuine smile for her, weak and sad as it may be. He finds her presence a gift, even with the past that curses them. He reaches up, cupping both hands that hold him and he shuts his eyes a moment to take it all in. ]
Praise the Maker and Andraste for making that so.
[ When his eyes open, he is silent a moment, just looking at her. It is true that she is no longer is charge, though the need for professionalism is still there at the reminder that they are now comrades in arms. They will both command troops, she to the Grey Wardens and he with the Inquisition's army. Still, he reaches for her, one hand letting go to drift down her arm and at her shoulder, holding firmly. ]
You look no different. Time has treated you well and fate has left you healthy. I'm glad.
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For now, she lets herself be selfish. To have contact with someone, with someone she knew once upon a time, is more of a gift than she should have, and yet she won't refuse it. It is good, she realizes, to see him healthy and alive, to see him helping the world.
Her smile finds a little more life in it and she almost manages a laugh, weak as it might be. ]
Not as well as you, I think. You look--
[ Finally, the potential for inappropriateness seems to hit her, because she doesn't quite know how to frame it in a way that won't be seen as potentially lewd. She means nothing by it, but Cullen has filled out his armor, in a sense; he is no longer so scruffy or young, and gone are the dark circles under his eyes and the pale skin. He looks different. ]
You look far better than the last time I saw you. [ As painful as it is for her to say it. She doesn't want to bring up such a dark time for either of them. ] I'm glad. And I'm...very glad to see a familiar face. It has been a long, long time since I've seen much of anyone.
[ She doesn't want this to end, this small port in the storm, her elation and relief. But, in reality, it has to. They needn't resort to talking about the past or painful things, but they have to move on. ]
How did you get here? Are you still-- How did they let you leave your post?
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You flatter me.
[ He still says it, and there may be a slight tint of pink over his nose at the prospect of acknowledging her compliments. Cullen doesn't let go of her, but he allows his hands to take hers which touch his face, holding them loosely at least while the moment is still strong with feeling. ]
While there are friends here I have known for some time, I'm afraid none have impacted me the way you did. There is much comfort in seeing such a fond and familiar face amidst all of this chaos. To see you healthy and in one piece is more than a gift.
[ At the mention of his "post", however, he makes a face. It bears only a brief sense of disappointment. ]
While I am inclined indulge you on the details, I am certain you are far too tired for the entire story.
I've left The Order, thus dropping my place as a Templar. Cassandra sought my assistance as Commander to the Inquisition's troops. What little we had at the time, at least.
After what I saw in Kinloch and in Kirkwall... It became very clear that my views on the Chantry were misguided and wrong.
[ He doesn't quite look at her when he tells her. Especially when she's well aware of what happened to him in the Circle Tower. There is no need. ]
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It isn't flattery if it's true.
[ And is the most polite thing she can say without going into details neither of them are in any position to discuss it further. Instead, she turns to grip his hands tightly, dropping them from his face so they can hang between them. She says nothing for some time, allowing him to talk. In the end, she only squeezes his hands tightly in an effort to comfort him, to show him he isn't alone. But even she has to sigh. ]
You aren't the only one who's felt...led astray.
[ Not simply the Chantry but the Wardens. She held her fellow soldiers in high esteem, but the things Clarel had done, even misguided, had been wrong. The things she has seen in reports and in letters from the First Warden have been far from acceptable. But those things, too, are for another time. ]
But you're here now. You're leading the largest army Thedas has known in recent history against a monster. You're saving the world.
[ And she hopes he realizes the full extent of what that means for him and for everyone around them. ]
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[ Yet here they are, holding hands and sharing an affection Cullen has likely never provided to anyone else. He's married to his work, a busy man and hardly in a position to seek a relationship. Even if he wants one. But that doesn't stop him from accepting her gestures and finding comfort in them. It's a reminder of her existence and how real it is. Cullen almost clings to the relief he feels when he can feel her pulse each time her hands squeeze his. ]
[ He smiles a bit brighter at her mention of him saving the world, how he leads the largest army in Thedas. That is certainly why he is here and why he became a Templar in the first place. ]
And so are you.
[ Cullen can't help but remind her, even with her only being here a short time. He tugs lightly on her hands at that remark. ]
What we were holds no strength against what we are now. Neria, I would be honored to fight beside you again. You were brave to come here.
We have the Herald of Andraste with the Hero of Ferelden at her side. Corypheus stands no chance against us. You've no idea how much your joining means not just to me, but to the rest of Thedas.
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Yes, the very dead Hero of Ferelden. Thedas isn't going to rejoice at my sudden appearance. If anything, there's going to be a great deal for me - and the Inquisition, by extension - to answer for.
[ I did this to you all, she reminds herself, for better or worse. She will be able to lead the Warden armies and be a competent ally to the Inquisition, that much is true. She has information that can aid them. But that by no means will allow them to slip under the ripples her appearance is going to cause. ]
You must understand that Ferelden will be asking questions. King Alistair will probably contact the Inquisitor. Weisshaupt will have their own troubles, if they even bother to make contact after the disaster they've allowed.
[ And, frankly, she has half of a mind to call on them first. ]
And that's not including anyone else who's believed me dead. Those nobles will spin some story about how this was a fabricated ruse to give your Inquisitor an even more glowing reputation.
I wasn't brave to come here, Cullen. I was guilty and desperate. I didn't ride in with a miracle strapped to the back of my horse.
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[ It is clear that things will not be easy, that they have much to discuss and cater to along with the rest of the mess they have before them. While Cullen is thankful merely for Neria's presence, she has a point. The frown falters, left behind for his normal, serious expression that has gotten him so much teasing among his peers. But it is necessary. ]
Whatever consequences follow your alliance and loyalty to the Inquisition, ten years passed or not, we will accept them. The Inquisitor has a good sense of judgment, and we all trust she has a plan worth awaiting results for.
[ With a sigh, he looks down, shaking his head. ]
I've no patience for the dealings of nobles and the rumors they spin. If that is what they will see fit to spread among the lands, Josephine is properly equipped to deal with such matters.
I understand your concerns, but try and consider your joining the Inquisition as your second chance. As I have.
[ There's a moment that he lingers, thumbs brushing over her knuckles before he finally lets go of her hands. Cullen makes way to his desk, shuffling through papers that scatter the surface of it. ]
I will see to it that you are provided your own room. You should allow yourself some time to clean up, visit our healers to ensure the journey has not given you sickness or injury. I'm sure you are hungry.
[ Even amidst all of his worry and shock, there is still much to do. Cullen pauses a moment when he looks back at her. An expression of sympathy back to take over what had once been serious. ]
This... Is also my quarters. Should you require anything from me, you know where to find me. We will begin our duties in the morning and delegate as needed.
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Neria finds she misses the warmth of his hands already as he pulls away, but they have work to do and very little time with which to do it. She closes her hands in on themselves and lets them drop to her sides, and she gives Cullen a nod of acknowledgement and appreciation. ]
Whatever can be spared. I'm used to more dire and solitary living accommodations.
[ And she lifts a hand before he can ask, shaking her head. ]
Which I'll speak of another time. For now, let's-- Let's just do what we need to. I suspect the Inquisitor will want her answers soon enough.
[ There's no need to rush the disappointment that will follow her interrogation, whether it's by Kaia herself, the ambassador, or even Leliana. She has to prepare herself for the resulting fallout she expects even now.
Neria lifts her head to examine the room, only now spotting the ladder leading upwards. She mouths silently, this is your room? because it's such a ridiculous thing to ask, but she slowly, reluctantly, nods once more. There will be time enough for questions. For now, she lets it rest.
The next few hours she spends relatively alone in her room, eating dinner, preparing herself, and unpacking some of her belongings. Leliana comes to see her only in the dead of night and with no one the wiser to greet her and give her what updates she can, as well as quietly chiding her for making such a scene without informing her first. They are much alike and always have been, always looking for ways to control the situation. It can't be helped, and even if she is glad to see Leliana and cannot contain much of her relief and delight, it is a bittersweet reunion, not unlike the one she had earlier with Cullen. Her presence hasn't made things easier for the moment...but it will get better, Leliana promises. No more lies, no more games.
She wishes she could believe that.
But the evening passes as any other would, and she finds no sleep in her new quarters. Nightmares continue to haunt her and she can no longer tell if they are the ministrations of Corypheus or the Taint itself, and in truth, she has stopped trying to discern anything from them. For some time, she lays in bed, frustrated and fatigued, unable to sleep. And she begins to debate dangerous thoughts from time to time, whether she should explore or go to speak to the other Wardens, or if she should take Cullen up on his offer.
Hours pass before she makes a decision. Eventually, she does find her way to Cullen's office, knocking softly on the door. She's made her peace with it and reasons that if he doesn't answer, then he is sleeping, and she can go back to her room with no harm done. ]
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[ Cullen hasn't necessarily met his past with peace. There are still many regrets that haunt him in the night, the nightmares of battles he had been in that still plague him and may never cease. But in the passing time, he had found at least a way to deal with them. Now? It seems harder. With the pure symbol of the worst of his deeds standing before him, remembering him better than anyone else here... Will it help? Or will it make things worse. He couldn't say. But what he is certain of is that he is grateful she is alive and well, and just as grateful to work beside her again. ]
[ Even with his inability to get any work done, he still tries, still sits at his desk staring at the dozens of papers scattered before him. The words make little sense at this hour, and the words blur together where he is rendered illiterate and it gives him a headache. Sometimes they fizzle into a language that makes no sense, or appear as puddles of ink on the paper. Other times they all form into her name or shape themselves into a drawing of the Harrowing Chamber door he was imprisoned before. Cullen is left with his face in his hand, elbow at the table keeping him from faceplanting into it. ]
[ It's then that he hears a soft knocking at his door, and Cullen straightens himself. For a moment, he stares at it, not quite registering that someone is there but then finding stress in who it might be when he does. ]
Yes?
[ He eventually speaks for his guest to enter. ]
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This is...ridiculous. She should leave him be. But he offered and, in truth, she feels she owes him for all he's done to comfort her now. As the seconds tick by, she feels even more uncertain, and she wants to be clear with him, if only him. At least Cullen has attempted to understand in some small measure.
Neria stands at the door, barely inside of his office, and she exhales. She gives Cullen a very small smile. ]
You're still awake?
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[ Still, he's happy to see her. To know that she is still truly here, and Cullen stands to greet her. Maybe too quickly, and his hip bumps the desk when he rises. He regrets not being in armor at that point, because he certainly strikes a nerve in the impact. While he doesn't completely show it, it's obvious he's hurt something. ]
[ But he tries to distract himself, clearing his throat. ]
I--
This is usually the hour I make the most progress in my work. Far less distractions, and I...
[ Can never seem to get any sleep. He wants to say it, but he refrains. ]
I usually have no visitors at this time.
[ With one hand at the hip he struck and the other lifted, he gestures with it for her to come inside. ]
Please, come in. Are you finding difficulty getting comfortable?
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You mean you stay up and do work. Work that's...probably not necessary to do at this hour.
[ Pot, kettle. She can't criticize. Neria rubs lightly at the inside of her arm. ]
It's not about being comfortable-- The accommodations are very nice. I've simply...never been much of a sleeper. Not for a long time.
[ And besides being in a new place, potentially dangerous in every way, isn't of much help. But the bed is comfortable, the room warm, and she's eaten. It isn't as if she hasn't been provided for in any way. ]
I didn't think you'd still be awake. It's late.
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WRONG JOURNAL, WOOPS
LMAO I WAS SO CONFUSED
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