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Dear Commander - Chapter 20 : Contemplation

Cullen x Trevelyan

AO3 MASTERLIST

During their journey to Skyhold, Cullen & The Herald try to make sense of their feelings for one another in the wake of Haven's downfall.

Full chapter below:

There was a comforting hum of activity at the camp during those last few hours of darkness. Murmurs of villagers and the crackle of fire filled the air. The atmosphere had changed dramatically after The Herald's safe return. She had become a beacon of hope during Haven’s darkest hour.

Juliette lay quietly, wrapped in blankets and furs, her body weary from the avalanche’s brutal force. Despite the warmth of the fire nearby, she still felt the cold deep in her bones, as though the snow would never leave her. Mother Gisele, ever the caretaker, fussed over her, her voice a soft but persistent murmur.

“You need to rest, Herald,” she reminded more than once, but resting felt impossible for Juliette. She had seen too much to allow herself the indulgence of sleep. Could Corypheus find them? Could her presence be the downfall of those who had survived the attack? What if he’d simply given us a head start? Could this be a game? Some cruel , sick hunt?

The people seemed to think otherwise. While she lay there at her weakest, they viewed her with reverence. She’d catch an odd glance or two as she pulled herself from the lull of sleep. Villagers, healers, wounded soldiers - watching her as though she were some mystery, some supernatural thing, a miracle.

The singing still rang in her ears, the entire camp before her united in hymn. It was an experience so surreal that she didn’t think she’d ever forget it, as much as she wanted to.

Juliette had simply lost her faith. As the pendant fell from her neckline so too did her belief that she was anything more than a mere accident - Corypheus had said so himself. Yet Mother Giselle’s words had stayed with her, ‘Faith is made stronger by facing doubt.’

She rolled over in the cot, wincing at the sharp pain that lingered in her ribs. Her eyes fixed on the distant campfire, but the flames blurred before her, their flickering light doing little to ease the ache deep in her bones. Herald of Andraste or not, she wouldn’t give up. These people needed something to believe in, and if that something had to be her, so be it.

Juliette closed her eyes, the horrors of the night flooding her thoughts—faces, screams, the crushing weight of snow. She opened them again, the images still lingering in the dark. Sleep was a distant hope now, slipping away every time she tried to grasp it.

She shuffled , pulling the blankets higher up to her neck. The cold still clung to her, no matter how tightly she wrapped herself. She looked up at the sky—dawn was nearing, the first hints of light spilling across the horizon.

Would you look at that, she thought wryly. The dawn did come after all. A small, exhausted laugh bubbled in her chest, but it died as quickly as it began, caught by a sharp pain in her ribs. She scrunched her face in discomfort, thankful she hadn’t voiced the thought aloud.

Her gaze wandered to the campfire, where the orange warmth flickered against the growing light of the dawn. There, silhouetted by the flames, was Cullen. He sat, his face half-illuminated in the glow, warming his hands against the fire. His posture was relaxed, a rarity for him.

Of course he’s awake, Juliette thought. She had expected him to be up, but the sight of him so still and comfortable was strange. Cullen almost never stopped working, always a man of duty. Does he even sleep?

She watched him closely, taking notice of the way he stared into the flames, how his his fingers wriggled , a little crease between his brows as he concentrated. He seemed deep in thought, and for a brief moment, she wondered what was on his mind.

Then, suddenly, he pulled his hands away from the fire and leaned back, his gaze shifting across the camp. He looked her way, their eyes catching unexpectantly.

Juliette felt a sudden warmth bloom in her chest, the kind that made her heart skip a beat. He smiled, a small smirk, subtle but it was there. She could feel the pull on her cheeks, she was smiling too, unaware. Was I smiling first? Oh.

She pulled the blankets higher, practically obscuring her face, and rolled onto her other side. A wave of sudden embarrassment washed over her, making her cheeks burn. She realized, with a jolt, just how exposed she was here in this camp—not just to Cullen, but to everyone.

A rush of insecurities crashed over her like a tide. What if I make weird faces when I sleep? What if I look... ugly? Do I snore? Maker, please, tell me I don’t snore!

It felt so silly to be thinking about such meaningless things. Vanity was irrelevant at a time like this—she was lucky to be alive. It’s silly to…I was unconscious! What did I look like when I was unconscious? She groaned, annoyed at herself for thinking this way.

As she lay there, blanket still over her head, she reflected on the moment that she woke in the snow. She was so relieved to see Cullen. She heard his voice before her vision came in, it was nice. No, it was more than nice. There was no one she’d rather had seen in that moment. And the way he looked at her. She wondered if it was all in her head. She thought about the way he held her, it was so protective, she felt so safe with him. It was almost…intimate? No, protective - heroic. That’s just Cullen. He’d have done the same for any of us.

Her smile widened into a grin at her own preposterous thought - Cullen carried her back to camp, would he do that for the others? Dorian? The thought made her giggle. Even stranger would be Cassandra. Oh, she’d hate that.

Juliette sighed, contemplating it. Maybe that was just for me. She rolled her eyes. Oh, but I’m The Herald of Andraste. His inner chantry boy would never let any harm come… she interrupted her thoughts with the memory of him singing. Chantry boy. She pressed her face into the pillow. The pain from the muted giggles was worth it. Ugh, I’m an idiot.

But he said my name. He never uses my actual name…

She rubbed her eyes, frustrated with herself. I should try to sleep, I’m losing my mind…but what was that at the tavern? It was definitely a moment. Was he going to? No, this is absurd.

People had died that night. There were injured still, that might not pull through. Juliette felt like she was being selfish and guilt settled in once more. Oh, Adan, she thought, remembering the pain in his eyes as he looked up at her during his last moments. Tears began to well in the corners of her eyes.

It was my fault.

Led by Solas, the Inquisition—battered and bruised—trudged through the treacherous terrain of the Frostback Mountains, their journey north stretching on for days. The path was long and grueling, the snow unforgiving, but they had little choice. The promise of a keep that could offer shelter and safety pushed them forward, their spirit unbroken, despite the harsh conditions.

For Juliette, the journey took a brutal toll on her already fragile body. She pushed on, ignoring the searing burn in her lungs, convincing herself it was just the thin mountain air, not the lingering effects of hypothermia. The ache in her chest was constant, but she refused to acknowledge it—if she stopped, if she admitted weakness, the others might see it too.

So many eyes were on her—not just those of the surviving pilgrims, but the healers and soldiers who felt responsible for her care. She hated it, the way they watched her every move, their concern a constant reminder of her weakness. She felt guilty for slowing them down, for calling for breaks, wasting precious daylight. She pushed herself, ignoring the signs of exhaustion, until the third day, when her body finally betrayed her. She collapsed without warning, fainting in the snow. It was then, with her vision fading, that she realized how badly she had underestimated her need for rest.

Squeezing the back of his neck in frustration, Cullen’s gaze drifted over the maps for what felt like the thousandth time. No matter how many times he looked, the maps didn’t offer any answers. The uncertainty was gnawing at him, threatening to unravel his thoughts. Not knowing where they were or where they were going—this sense of aimlessness was slowly driving him mad. He needed guidance, a clear path forward.

Solas seemed to know where he was leading them, though his vagueness provided little comfort. Worse, they still didn’t know where Corypheus was, or when he could strike next. In their current state—a fractured group trailing the mountain with many injured in tow—he couldn’t shake the fear that their vulnerability wouldn’t withstand another attack.

Cullen pressed his fingertips into his forehead. By this point, the headaches were routine, an expected burden, one of many for him to contend with as he attempted to concentrate. The coldness of his fingers added a small amount of relief while he continued his work, though his mind was no less jumbled. He had to focus, had to think clearly. He couldn’t afford to lose himself. Not now.

Cullen’s focus had splintered and try as he might, he couldn’t shake the thought of Juliette. He had no right to let his mind wander like this. Not when so many depended on him. Their fight for survival wasn’t over yet. The weight of that responsibility sat heavy on his shoulders, a constant pressure. Yet, the thought of her lingered, refusing to be ignored.

As sunlight broke through the clouds, a soft, golden light washed over the camp, and the murmur of voices seemed to fade. Cullen turned over his shoulder, momentarily distracted by the warmth. He squinted into the brightness, and in that moment, he saw her.

Juliette stood by the cliff, alone for the first time in days. The sight of her, so still and framed by the soft light, almost took his breath away. He froze, the maps still clenched in his hands. The weight of responsibility felt distant now, as though it could wait a moment longer. His heart thundered in his chest, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away. She was so… untouchable in this moment, so quietly herself, and yet it pulled at him with an intensity he couldn’t explain.

It had been a while since he’d seen her like this—without a crowd around her, without someone to fuss over her wellbeing. There was something about her solitude, about the way she stood so still, that struck him deeper than it should have.

He wondered if she was all right, truly all right. He’d managed to ask her in passing conversation during breaks throughout the journey. She would smile, gracious and calm, and tell him she was fine, but it was never enough. The way she said it was so polished, so controlled. It left a knot in his chest. There was no space for a genuine answer, not with healers, Cassandra and Mother Giselle always hovering. He knew all too well what she was doing, he does the very same thing.

It would be hard for her to admit her struggles with so many people coddling her. Cullen put the maps down, exhaling a slow, heavy breath as he tried to push the thoughts aside. His gaze lingered on the distant horizon. I can’t imagine what she’s going through after that…

His fingers raked through his hair, the tension in his neck a dull throb that only seemed to grow worse. He blinked, trying to force away the guilt that lingered like a shadow at the edges of his mind. The image of her facing that monster—of her putting herself on the line for their safety. It haunted him.

He almost lost her.

Cullen couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Juliette, and yet, every instinct told him to look away, to pull himself together. She was luring him in, unwillingly, effortlessly - but he was The Commander. His duty demanded every part of him. He couldn’t lose himself in… this.

He began to walk towards her, every step he took feeling like a betrayal of his duty. Yet still, he couldn’t stop himself. The quiet chance to talk was too tempting. He couldn’t let it slip away, not now.

Juliette turned her head, as if feeling his gaze. The wind tugged at her hair, sending a few loose strands whipping across her face. She squinted against the breeze, gently brushing aside her hair. Her gaze moved slowly across the campfire, and for just a heartbeat, their eyes met.

For a moment, everything else—the weight of the journey, the uncertainty of their path, the looming threat of Corypheus—faded. It was just the two of them.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Juliette’s lips, shy yet unmistakably warm. She dipped her head slightly, tucking her hair behind her ear, and then turned back towards the cliffside. The moment had slipped away as quickly as it had arrived, and although she had turned, he continued to move towards her, unsure but determined to say something.

With each step closer, the view before him unfolded into a sweeping panorama of crisp white stretching far into the distance. Over the cliffside, the sight of mountains stretched on, their peaks disappearing into a haze of mist and snow.

The morning sunlight cast a silver hue across the landscape, bouncing off the snow and making it glow with life. The sky above was a pale washed-out blue, still carrying the coolness of the early morning hour, but the rising sun tinted the edges of the clouds with a gentle gold that softened the chill in the air.

It was quiet up there on the cliffside. The only sounds were the faint gusts of wind, whispering to the snow and the soft crunch of his boots against the ground. Cullen cleared his throat, trying to step a little heavier to avoid sneaking up on her too quietly.

He stood beside Juliette, staring into the horizon. The words collided in his mind, there was so much that he wanted to say to her, so many feelings he feared putting into words. She looked up at him and a soft, subdued smile formed on her lips. Cullen glanced at her briefly before turning his gaze back to the valley below. His throat tightened, and the words that formed in his head didn’t sound right: beautiful, spectacular, pretty…

“It’s a nice view,” he said, trying to make the words sound casual, but even as he said them, he could hear the way his voice wavered. Just a little too soft, just a little too uncertain. It felt weak. He immediately regretted it.

Juliette glanced up at him, her smile widening. She tilted her head, lips curling into a slight smirk. “It’s a majestic view,” she corrected with a hint of playfulness to her voice.

Cullen chuckled softly, dropping his gaze to the ground, a slight blush creeping up his neck. He hadn’t expected her to challenge him with a smile that bright. His pulse quickened, and he swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. “So it is,” he agreed, the words slipping out with more ease now.

A long silence stretched between them, tension thickening with every passing second. A gentle breeze lifted the scent of pine and smoke from the campfire as it danced in the air. Cullen drew in a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs, calming his nerves just slightly. Words continued to jumble in his mind, he could almost hear them. Are you okay? You’ve been through so much, and I—

He closed his eyes briefly, trying to push the thought away. The question felt too loaded. Too personal. He didn’t want to seem eager or risk his body language betraying the way that he felt. He'd asked before and she’d answered. To ask again would be excessive, he thought. He tried to focus on the landscape, to avoid the way his heart beat faster every time he glanced at her.

He wanted to tell her that he was glad to see her alive, to thank her for what she’d done, but the fear of saying the wrong thing kept him silent. It’s been days. To say something now would be strange. I’ve lost my chance. Each breath seemed too loud in the stillness, too intrusive.

He caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye. Juliette was standing with her back slightly turned, her fingers lightly pinching a section of her hair. She twisted it between her fingers, looping and tugging at the ends, coiling it tighter and tighter with every twist. He’d seen her do this before, usually during tense moments at the war table, when a plan had gone awry. He wondered if it was a mannerism that she subconsciously fell to when feeling stressed.

Cullen’s gaze lingered on her a little longer than he intended, his thoughts trailing off as he watched her movements. She bit her lip in concentration, her brow furrowing slightly, her expression set in a deep focus. There was something about the way she stood there, in quiet contemplation, that made her seem vulnerable. He wished that there was something he could do to support her.

Before he could stop himself, he realized his gaze had lingered longer than it should. Just as he was about to look away, Juliette turned her head, meeting his eyes with an expression that caught him off guard. Her gaze held for a moment, an awkward tension between them that had been building ever since the battle at Haven. He quickly averted his gaze to the ground, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Are you okay, Cullen?”

Her voice was soft, genuine, and it caught him off guard. He had expected to be the one asking that question. The vulnerability in her tone, the quiet concern in her eyes - it took him by surprise.

“Yes,” he said quickly, perhaps too quickly, his voice tight and urgent. It was a defensive response. He wanted to believe it, wanted to convince himself that he was fine, that he could still stand firm under the weight of everything that had happened. But it didn’t feel true, not in that moment.

Juliette shook her head slightly, a soft frustration flickering in her eyes. She stepped closer to him, her movements deliberate, as if trying to close the gap between them. “No, what I meant was…” She sighed, releasing the tight coil of hair and letting her hands fall to her sides. “Are you okay? How are you feeling after everything that happened at Haven?” she asked, her words quieter now, but no less insistent.

He held her gaze longer than he intended, the intensity surprising him. His nerves had been gnawing at him since the moment she spoke, but still, he felt compelled to study her face more closely. He saw the way her eyes watched him, the gentle flutter of her lashes as she waited, expectant yet patient. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, her skin flushed with the wind’s bite, but it only seemed to emphasize the quiet beauty that radiated from her despite everything. She looked exhausted, disheveled yet there was a strength in her posture, in the way she held herself.

Cullen wasn’t sure how to answer her question. To stop and think about it, it seemed like a luxury he could not afford. The truth was that nobody was doing okay after what had happened. They had little choice but to continue moving forward, propelled by the need for survival and their faith in The Maker. But for her to ask him - no one had before now. Cassandra had checked on him, of course, asking about his withdrawal symptoms - but that was routine, practical. It wasn’t this.

“I’m fine,” he said, but his voice wavered ever so slightly, the words feeling heavier than they should.

Juliette’s gaze lingered a while before she tore away her eyes, shaking her head. She turned around and once more, focused on the view before her. Cullen felt like a fool. That was hardly convincing.

He hesitated, the words caught in his throat for a moment, but he couldn’t let the silence stretch on any longer. With a quiet exhale, he seized the opportunity, his voice softer than before. “And what of you… Juliette?”

Her gaze flickered to him, her expression unreadable for just a moment. Then, something softened in her features. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips, but it was quick. Cullen might have missed it if he hadn’t been looking at her just at that moment. She didn’t say anything at first, her lips pressed together as if she were holding something back.

Her gaze returned to the horizon, but not before Cullen caught the faintest trace of that smile fading. Her hand moved to the hem of her sleeve, fingers curling tightly around the fabric.

“I too am fine,” she said, her voice soft, equally as unconvincing as his.

A strong gust of wind picked up, tearing past them, whipping snow and stray twigs into the air. Juliette turned towards him again, her hair lifted by the breeze as she blinked against the cold. The wind howled in the silence between them, filling the space with its sharp, biting presence.

“I want to stay here,” she confessed suddenly, her wide eyes carrying an unexpected sadness. Cullen’s expression dropped at her words, his eyes softening with concern.

“Not here, exactly,” she clarified, her voice trailing off. “Just... in this moment. Not the past. Not the future.” She sighed, dropping her gaze to the ground. “I’m not making sense,” she murmured in frustration.

She looked back up at him, her eyes searching his, as though silently pleading for understanding. “Do you ever feel like life is just one horrible experience after another?”

Cullen couldn’t help but laugh, the sound a little rough around the edges. “More than you’d realize,” he replied, a wry smile tugging at his lips. The amusement in his tone was soft, but there was an edge of self-deprecation to it— he, too, had learned the weight of that feeling all too well.

“Right!” she said, the relief in her voice clear as she waved her hand towards him. A soft giggle escaped her lips, and she looked up at the sky. Cullen’s smile deepened as he watched her, feeling the tension between them start to ease with the sound of her laughter. He drew in a deep breath and sighed heavily, all those jumbled thoughts in his mind a little quieter now.

“Besides, it’s pretty here,” she added, her voice soft with a sense of wonder as her eyes followed a bird soaring overhead.

“It’s majestic,” Cullen corrected with a grin, his words coming quickly, almost too smoothly. He had surprised even himself.

Juliette blinked in shock, her eyebrows lifting as she turned to face him fully. The quickness of his response caught her off guard, and for a moment, her lips parted as if she was about to say something. She simply laughed, an impressed "Oh!" escaping her. “That. That was good, Cullen,” she said, shaking her head with a smile that was part amusement and admiration.

Varric placed Bianca down beside him and settled into his spot beside the campfire. The crackle of the flames contended with the harsh, rhythmic grating of the whetstone scraping along the edge of Cassandra’s sword. Her face was set in concentration, brows furrowed slightly as she adjusted the angle, her gaze steady and unwavering. The sword had been through enough battles to have its share of scars, but she made sure it would be ready for whatever came next.

Dorian sat nearby, dramatically hugging himself, his teeth chattering as he shivered. He’d spent the last few days complaining about the cold, and by this point, Varric had learned to drown him out.

Varric glanced toward the sunlight as it pierced through the clouds, his eyes catching on the figures standing by the cliffside. His grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as his curiosity piqued. The way they were standing... too close. Too comfortable.

"Seeker?" Varric's voice cut through the quiet, snapping Cassandra from her focus. She glared at him, expecting some ridiculous remark to follow.

“What?” she muttered, still not fully pulling her attention away from her sword.

“I’ve got to ask," Varric began, leaning back on his elbow, "you were there when The Herald was rescued. What was the mood like?”

“Ugh,” Cassandra dropped the sword before her with a heavy sigh of disgust. “You’re not planning on writing a book about all of this, are you, dwarf?”

“I’m a storyteller, Seeker,” Varric chuckled, "I don’t have much of a knack for writing romances, but I’ve written enough to recognize the beginnings of one."

“Romance?” Cassandra’s expression softened, just for a moment, from stern to curious. “You… you write romance?”

“I’ve tried my hand at a few genres,” Varric said, his tone light.

Cassandra turned her focus back to sharpening her sword, picking it up again with an exaggerated eyeroll. “I don’t see what this has to do with The Herald.”

“Oh, come on, Seeker!” Varric’s voice took on a patronizing tone. “You saw how distressed Curly was when she didn’t come back with us.”

“It was a very serious moment,” Cassandra said quickly, a defensive edge to her tone. “Our Commander worked hard to ensure the safety of us all.”

“Mhmm,” Dorian hummed from behind his cup, sounding unconvinced.

Cassandra shot him a sharp glare before turning back to Varric. “You’re trying to make this into a story. Stop.”

"He carried her back to camp, Cassandra. Bridal style!" Varric leaned in, enjoying the effect of his words. There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"She was injured, Varric!" Cassandra said, rolling her eyes as she picked up the sword again, clearly exasperated. "Honestly, must you make everything into some... melodrama?”

“I don’t know,” Varric said, his gaze shifting back toward the cliffside, where Juliette and Cullen stood. He noticed the way Juliette smiled up at Cullen, the soft tilt of her head when she laughed, the subtle sway from side to side as she spoke. Cullen had his head lowered as he listened, standing close. He was smiling back at her. Cullen, smiling. That should say it all.

Varric raised his eyebrows, looking back at Cassandra, his grin widening. “I think there’s something between them.”

Cassandra scoffed, rolling her eyes, but there was a brief pause before she spoke, as though the idea hadn’t quite settled out of her mind. “Ridiculous.”

Dorian laughed, watching Cassandra closely as she shifted her gaze towards the cliffside, the realization slowly settling in.

“Truly fascinating!” Dorian quipped, unable to hide the smugness in his voice. “It’s almost as though I can hear the cogs turning in her mind.”

Cassandra’s expression faltered for a moment, her usually stern features softening with a flicker mischief. Without missing a beat, she reached down and picked up the whetstone, tossing it at Dorian with a snap of her wrist. Dorian barely dodged it, grinning broadly as the stone whizzed past his ear.

“Idiot,” she muttered, though there was a subtle curve to the corner of her mouth.

“How ‘bout it, Sparkler?” Varric leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Ten Silvers those two end up together by the end of the year.”

Dorian leaned back dramatically, clutching his cup as if wounded. “Do you take me for a fool? A losing bet? I wouldn’t wager on them if you paid me in gold.”

Cullen’s voice drifted over to Juliette, pulling her attention back to him as he spoke, his tone warm with amusement.

“…and then traveled by ship to Kirkwall. I’d lived in the middle of a lake. I thought I was prepared for sea travel…” His voice trailed off, and he held her gaze, the warmth of his eyes catching hers. A soft smile curved at his lips.

It wasn’t until he paused that Juliette realized she was staring. The sudden awareness of his attention hit her all at once, and her heart gave a small leap. A flutter in her chest warmed her face, and her cheeks blushed as she quickly pulled her eyes away, focusing instead on the distant view over the cliffside. She reached for her hair once more, twisting it between her fingers as she tried to regain her composure.

“You didn’t enjoy the journey?” she asked, her pulse still racing as she spoke, voice a little higher than usual.

Cullen chuckled, the sound low and breathy, and Juliette’s stomach fluttered in response. She quickly exhaled, wishing for the warmth in her chest to subside. That laugh. Every time she heard it, it sent a tingle through her.

"I can’t say that I did enjoy it, no," Cullen replied, his tone still light, but with a hint of humour that made her wonder for a moment if there was something deeper to his story than he was willing to let on.

“As horrible as it was…, “ Juliette began, locking her eyes with his once more. There was a small pause as she quietly drew in a breath, her smile growing as she braved eye contact. “It was nice to see the sea again. Of course, it would be a lot nicer without all the rain and …war,” she laughed nervously, looking to the ground.

“What was it you said at the temple? About clearer skies and warmer weather?” Cullen asked, his brow furrowing in thought. He was still smiling, but there was an intensity to his gaze now, one that made her pulse race.

Juliette’s smile faltered for a second, surprise flickering across her face. He remembers that?

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” he asked, his voice gentle, almost uncertain.

“I…” she hestitated a moment, lost for words, her eyes lost in his. She noticed the way the light reflected his eyes, the golden colour sparkling in his iris. His voice was so soft, gentle. “I…no,” she said with a slow shake of her head. For a moment it seemed as though a flicker of worry had crossed his features, as though her reaction had made him feel unsure. She took a step back and pulled away her gaze, unable to resist the smirk growing on her lips. He wants me to stay.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she confirmed, slowly lifting her eyes back to his.

Cullen smiled, a genuine smile that made her heart skip a beat. “Good,” he replied before turning his back and walking away. “Enjoy the rest of your morning, Herald.”

Juliette stood there, speechless as she watched him walk away, her mind swirling with his words, her own feelings now amplified as she began to wonder.

Does he? No. I’m thinking too much.

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