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Dear Commander - Chapter 16: A Victory Of Alliance

Cullen x Trevelyan

AO3 MASTERLIST

(Spoilers for the "In Your Heart Shall Burn" quest)

Full chapter below:

At first, there was nothing. Emptiness. Darkness.

Then, a sudden wave of sound crashed over her. A high-pitched ringing, suffocating and disorienting. Flickers of light followed—bright green and blinding. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus as a chaotic blur of colour and distorted shapes gradually took form. A sharp, jarring pain shot through her body, and a burning ache settled into her ribs, as if the air had been violently knocked from her lungs.

A surge of panic coursed through her veins as Juliette slowly pushed herself upright. She clutched her head, attempting to steady the swaying sensation and dull throb that pulsed through her skull. She managed to draw in a shaky breath as the air surrounding her crackled with magical energy. She glanced up at the sky, a mix of awe and relief washing over her.

It worked!

For all the people who had gathered, the temple was eerily silent. The air was thick with anticipation, broken only by the occasional murmur or gasp of shock. The crowd remained respectfully quiet, their collective breath held as they waited for The Herald’s next move.

Juliette’s attention sharpened as she picked up the sound of footsteps drawing closer. Turning her head, she saw Cassandra weaving frantically through the soldiers, her movements desperate and determined as she made her way toward Juliette.

When Cassandra drew near, Juliette tilted her head slightly, blinking in confusion as their eyes met. The Seeker’s gaze was a mix of astonishment and relief. A breathless smile broke across Cassandra’s face, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. Her tense demeanor relaxed, replaced by subdued joy. She exuded fierce protectiveness and gratitude, overwhelmed by the sight of The Herald of Andraste surviving the blast.

Cautiously, she reached her hand towards Juliette’s shoulder. A hesitant touch, just to be sure that her eyes weren’t deceiving her. She was truly alive and well.

“You did it!” Cassandra exclaimed softly, her voice trembling with overwhelming disbelief and emotion.

Stumbling slightly as she rose to her feet, Juliette slowly looked around her. The moment she stood, an eruption of cheers and applause filled the air, sweeping over the temple like a tidal wave. Soldiers, mages, and healers alike celebrated her success with exuberant shouts and clapping. The sound was a deafening roar of triumph and relief.

In a daze of astonishment, Juliette let out a delicate, airy chuckle. She looked back to the sky, now a cloudy swirl of energy, a reminder of the breach that just moments before had boomed above. With her hand, still glowing from the mark, she shielded her eyes from the sunlight that bore down on her as she looked back towards the terrace where she had entered the temple. There, silhouetted against the haze of sunlight and smoke, Cullen was unmistakable, his distinctive armor gleaming brightly. Beside him stood a hooded figure, whose presence and silhouette made Juliette assume could only be Leliana watching.

A subtle smile began to curl at Juliette’s lips. As the cheering grew louder and more boisterous she turned back to Cassandra. A soft laugh escaped and her smile widened, transforming into a radiant expression, both proud and relieved.

It’s finally over.

The roar of celebrations was muted by the closed doors of the chantry. Illuminated by candlelight, the building was warm and inviting. A modest gathering surrounded the statue of Andraste. Led by Mother Giselle, those yet to indulge in the revelry beyond the doors came together to express their gratitude to The Maker. Their voices, soft and earnest, filled the quiet space with a sense of peace.

“Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood The Maker’s will is written.”

Juliette was always fascinated by the way that Mother Giselle would hold onto the hands of those she spoke to. With her hands clasped around Juliette’s, both firmly and tender, Mother Giselle’s voice was melodic, her words gracefully rolling off the tongue like delicate song.

“Thank you, Herald of Andraste. A task such as closing the Breach is a heavy burden. I’m glad that it wasn’t a burden that you had to carry alone.”

Juliette smiled politely. “So many good people made this possible, Revered Mother.”

Nodding in agreement, Mother Giselle said, “We remember Andraste, but Andraste did not carry the Chant of Light alone. She had generals, advisors… even her husband, for a time.”

“And The Inquisition, our supporters, you—without all of it, I would never have been able to achieve this.”

“Without you, Herald, we would have all perished long ago.” Mother Giselle’s gaze softened as she sensed Juliette’s lack of confidence. “I understand you may not believe yourself to be Andraste’s Herald. Whatever you believe, there remains a task to be done.” Juliette looked at her with a hint of surprise, as if taken aback by how easily Mother Giselle could read her insecurities. “Andraste forged her own path, guided as she was by her visions. Look to Andraste for guidance… but ultimately, that The Maker has made this your task to fulfill. The people remain divided and Thedas still looks to hope. The hope they place in you is a tool within your reach. What you choose to do with it is up to you.”

“I appreciate your insight, Mother Giselle.”

“But tonight is for celebration…” Mother Giselle’s voice trailed off as the chantry door creaked open. Officers entered, their footsteps echoing through the hall as they carried crates of supplies, their chatter filling the space with a lively commotion. Juliette’s attention was drawn to the interruption, and she noticed Cullen among the officers. Her gaze lingered on him, a mixture of surprise and warmth flickering across her face as she took in his presence. Gently pulling her hands away, Mother Giselle added, “We come together to count our blessings because of you. Enjoy it, Herald. You are deserving.”

“Thank you, Revered Mother,” Juliette said softly, offering a warm smile. However, as she glanced back up, a wave of disappointment washed over her when she saw that Cullen had already slipped through the door, vanishing from view.

The campfire crackled and popped, casting a warm, flickering glow over the gathering. Juliette held her hand against the flames, watching with a content smile as the fire’s heat warmed her fingers. She was starting to enjoy the feel of fire and found herself longing for that burning sensation as it tingled her flesh. She waved her fingers quickly, as not to cause pain, but just to feel the slightest tingle, a touch of power coursing through her fingertips. She sighed, happy and relieved.

The night air was filled with the lively hum of voices raised in song and laughter. People danced around her, an infectious energy as they sang and drank, raising their tankards in victory.

“Oh, so this is where you’ve been hiding?” Dorian’s voice cut through the noise, his sly smile matching the playful glint in his eyes as he approached her with a confident stride.

“In plain sight?” Juliette laughed, turning to face him with a warm smile.

“Don’t think that I’ve forgotten our deal, Lady Herald.” He leaned in closer so that she could hear him above the ruckus of the celebration. “You owe me a drink.”

“What?” she shrieked with a laugh. “You never said that I was buying.”

With an amused scoff he asked, “You are their Herald of Andraste. One would think that your drinks are free, no?”

She looked around, confused, but smiling. “I saw bull down a barrel in one sitting. I don’t think anyone is keeping tabs.”

“Fantastic!” Dorian exclaimed, tugging at her arm with mock urgency. “Come along!”

Chancellor Roderick sauntered into the chantry, eyeing The Inquisition officers with disrespect. He shook his head, offended that not a single person seemed available to listen to his concerns. “You!” He shouted at an elven servant who tried to hurry past with a box of vegetables. “Where are they? Is truly no one in charge now?”

“If you're here to file more complaints…” a voice spoke melodically. Roderick turned around to see Leliana emerge from the shadows of the chantry arches. “Our Ambassador will soon be in her office. You could wait there for her.”

“I've had it up to here with these games!” He exclaimed, dramatically throwing up his arms. “Sending me here then upon there. I'm no fool, you see. I know —”

“Or you can stand here and complain. Either way, I've other matters to attend” she spoke indifferently. Without a backward glance, she walked away, unbothered.

With a huff, Roderick reluctantly made his way into Josephine's office, loudly slamming the door shut behind him.

More officers entered the chantry, their arms straining under the weight of bulky supply crates.

“‘Scuse me, Sister Leliana,” one of the men said, his voice rough from exertion as he shifted the crate on his shoulder. “Do you know where we are to put these?’”

A wicked smirk flickered across Leliana's face, a brief flash of mischief before she spoke inconspicuously, “against the door to The Ambassador's office.”

The man looked to the door with confusion, his brow furrowing, then back to Leliana with a nervous gulp. He hesitated, glancing at the door again as if it might offer an answer. “Uh… as you wish,” he finally managed.

“Oh and if you hear shouting from the other side of the door…” Leliana continued, dropping her head slightly, her hood casting ominous shadows on her face. “…no, you didn't.”

With petrified eyes the officer nodded, stammering, “Y…yes. Understood.”

Juliette’s laugh rang out above the noise of chatter and lively celebration. “You’re relentless!” Shaking her head, she smiled. “No matter how many times you ask - I will not tell you the horribly embarrassing circumstances of my harrowing!”

“That’s hardly fair!” Dorian protested, his voice almost a shout as he competed with the noise. “You can’t just preface a story with ‘horribly embarrassing’ then refuse to tell it.”

Just after Dorian spoke, Maryden began to play an upbeat and spirited tune, the lively notes swirling around them like a gust of wind. Juliette's laughter faltered as those around the campfire jumped up with excitement, their movements drunken and uncoordinated, yet charming nonetheless. She looked back at Dorian, her smile growing wider. “I can, and I will continue to do so.”

Juliette watched with intrigue as the deep red hue of the spiced wine swirled in the chalice she held. Bringing it to her nose, she inhaled its rich, fruity aroma. But just as she slowly brought the wine to her lips, a sudden knock from behind sent the liquid splashing up her nose and the chalice crashing against her teeth. She let out a squeal of surprise, her nostrils burning from the accidental inhalation. With a cough, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand, stumbling toward the fire.

“Careful!” Dorian called, his voice rising with concern as he shot a wary glance at Adan, who swayed drunkenly beside her.

The suddenness of it all left Juliette momentarily stunned, but as she caught sight of the drunken culprit, laughter bubbled up, light and infectious. “Well, that was graceful!” she said, shaking her head and grinning.

“Oh! Sorry, love,” Adan slurred, placing a hand on her shoulder in a wobbly gesture.

“Love?” Juliette laughed, raising an eyebrow. “Who are you and what have you done with our grumpy apothecary?”

With a sudden outburst of excessively loud laughter and clumsy applause, Adan revealed a much more cheerful version of himself. Juliette and Dorian exchanged glances, their smirks revealing their amusement.

When Juliette turned her focus back to Adan, she caught a glimpse of Cullen walking briskly past, a bundle of supplies tucked under one arm. He moved with purpose, his brow furrowed in concentration, as if he were on a mission. The soft glow of moonlight illuminated his features, highlighting the determined expression on his face. With a soft chuckle under her breath, Juliette recalled his earlier joke—“No rest for the wicked.”

For a moment, their eyes met. Despite his hurried pace, a flicker of recognition passed between them, accompanied by a brief smile that lit up his face. Her heart skipped a beat as she sensed the connection—an energy that made her feel a little lighter.

He seemed engrossed in his tasks, yet that smile lingered in her mind—a fleeting moment that intrigued her, even if she didn’t dare hope it meant anything more.

As she returned her attention to Dorian and Adan, their chatter faded into the background, a comforting hum of laughter. Suddenly, Dorian’s voice cut through the noise. “Isn’t that right, Juliette?”

“Sorry, what?” she asked, dazed and unsure of what they were discussing.

“To dance a… to victory and not… getting myself killed,” Adan slurred, his words tumbling out in a jumbled mess, laughter punctuating his attempts at coherence.

Juliette smiled politely, tilting her head slightly. “Thank you, but I must decline. Perhaps you should rest a while before dancing, Adan.”

With a mischievous grin, Dorian leaned closer, teasing, “I think she has her eyes set on another dance partner.”

“What?” Juliette shrieked, her high-pitched reaction betraying her denial.

“Oh, don’t be coy!” Dorian teased, a playful lilt in his voice. “Ha! Look! Now your face is all red.”

She quickly slapped her hands onto her cheeks and, with a mortified expression, screeched, “No, it’s not!”

A sudden, loud thud interrupted their banter. Juliette and Dorian turned to see Adan sprawled on the ground, his arms flailing as he laughed at himself.

“What an odd dance move,” Dorian quipped, bending down to help Adan to his feet. He flung Adan’s arm over his shoulder, stabilizing him with a grin. “Let’s get you out of here before you piss yourself in front of the Herald of Andraste.” He looked over to Juliette with a smirk, “Wouldn’t that be a tale for the grandchildren!”

Juliette chuckled, bringing what was left of her drink to her lips. As Adan was led away, he called out, “I never asked… how was the… what’s it?… sleep tonic?”

“It was entirely useless!” she shouted back, her voice rising above the chatter.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s what the Commander said,” he slurred, waving his hand dismissively. Juliette’s jaw dropped in shock. She clearly remembered Adan saying the exact opposite days earlier.

After they had left, Juliette took a moment to retreat to the ledge overlooking the fire, settling into a brief and quiet reflection. She rested her hand on her cheek, as though searching for evidence of her embarrassment.

I must learn to stop blushing, she thought to herself.

Taking in the lull of music and the earthy scent of the fire, Juliette drew a deep breath and looked up at the sky. The swirl of clouds that once was the breach lingered high above them. She remembered the first time she had seen it—her initial moments in Haven—and felt a swell of emotion. She had come so far since then.

Cullen stood by the stairs, his gaze fixed on Juliette as she sat, watching the campfire. The flames flickered and danced, casting a warm, golden glow that illuminated her features. The firelight caught her cheeks, giving them a soft flush, while her eyes sparkled, reflecting the warmth and intensity of the flames. The flickering light accentuated the gentle curve of her lips, which held a hint of a smile as she lost herself in thought.

He leaned slightly against a wall, arms crossed, observing her with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. She absorbed all that magic and somehow managed to pull through unscathed. And she just sits there calmly, as though it was nothing at all.

In that moment, the chatter and laughter of the gathering faded into the background, leaving only the soft crackle of the fire and the captivating presence of Juliette before him.

He felt an urge to approach her, to share in her reflection, yet he remained where he was, mesmerized by the beauty of the moment.

Cullen couldn’t shake the worry that she might soon choose to leave. He was concerned for her safety, and the thought of her facing the challenges ahead without the Inquisition’s support filled him with deep unease. She had gathered allies and built a significant following, but she had also amassed a growing roster of enemies. The Venatori would hunt her down. What if they succeed?

All things considered, with the weight of her future pressing down on him, what struck Cullen most as he watched her was the realization that he might not be ready to say goodbye to Juliette. He needed more time.

Cullen took a deep breath, pushing off the wall as he stepped forward, his heart racing with a mix of hope and fear. Yet, uncertainty gripped him, anchoring him in place.

Running a hand through his hair, he slumped back against the wall, staring ahead as the firelight blurred in the distance. I can’t just tell her to stay—that’s her choice, not mine.

He reflected on all she had achieved: aiding refugees, clearing dangers in Ferelden, sealing rifts, and sending demons back to the Fade. The allies she had rallied—Master Dennet, Mother Giselle, and nearly every local in the Hinterlands willing to help. How she negotiated with, persuaded and tolerated nobles, The Chantry and that awful merchant, Seggrit. He smiled at the thought, how she wrinkles her nose and shudders when she hears Chancellor Roderick's voice.

Still staring ahead with a vacant expression, he thought back to earlier in the day, as he stood watching her close the breach. That powerful image of all those mages standing behind her, pouring their magic into the mark. He didn’t like to admit it, but recruiting them was useful. He looked to the ground and slouched his shoulders. He remembered what she had told him during their argument in the yard that day - ‘We seal the breach and then my job is done. I won’t be here to burden you any further and you can chase me and all the other apostates away!’

I’ve made her feel unwelcome. I need to set things right!

With a determined nod and a deep inhale, he stepped forward once more. Perhaps it’s selfish of me to ask her to stay, but she needs to know. I have to tell her that I want her to stay with The Inquisition.

Just as Cullen took a step forward, the voice of a soldier cut through the night, calling out, “Commander!”

He halted, the word jolting him from his thoughts. The urgency in the soldier’s tone sent a ripple of apprehension through him. Cullen felt a prickling at the back of his neck, instinctively knowing something was wrong. He turned slowly, his brow furrowing, a silent question forming in his eyes. The soldier stood stiffly, as though every muscle was coiled, ready for action.

“Commander, there’s movement at the perimeter,” the soldier said, voice steady but urgent. “I think you need to see this.”

Cullen’s eyes sharpened, the weight of the soldier’s words settling heavily in the air. “How many?” he asked, his tone clipped.

“We can’t see. Just light in the distance.”

Cullen nodded, adrenaline surging through him. “Lead the way.”

Juliette looked up at the sound of footsteps approaching. With a kind smile, she set her drink down as Cassandra settled beside her.

“Solas confirms the heavens are scarred, but calm,” Cassandra said, relief in her voice. Juliette nodded, exhaling slowly. “The breach is sealed. We’ve reports of lingering rifts and many questions remain, but this was a victory.”

With her head tossed back, Juliette chuckled softly. “About time we had some good news.”

Cassandra’s smile widened. “Word of your heroism has spread.”

Juliette tilted her head, a hint of modesty in her gaze. “You know how many were involved. Luck just put me at the center.”

“A strange kind of luck,” Cassandra agreed, her brow furrowing slightly. “Not sure if we need more or less of it. But you’re right—this was a victory of alliance.”

Juliette looked back up at the sky, the stars glimmering faintly through the aftermath. “Aside from the demons, the war…” She smirked, rolling her eyes. “And the killing,” she added with an awkward laugh. “It’s been an honor working alongside you, Cassandra.”

As Juliette finished her thought, Cassandra’s gaze sharpened, a flicker of concern crossing her features. “Don’t think that you’re going anywhere,” she said, her tone stern. “With the breach closed, that alliance will need new focus.”

Juliette let out a high-pitched laugh. “Back to being a prisoner? I don’t think so.” Cassandra glared, her expression momentarily breaking as Juliette flashed a cheeky grin. “I saw the way you ran towards me after the breach,” Juliette teased, her voice playful. With a twisted smirk and narrowed eyes, she added, “You care about me, Seeker Pentaghast.”

Cassandra scoffed, but a flicker of warmth danced in her eyes. “Well, I’d rather you alive than dead.”

Juliette giggled, accepting the quip as a hidden admission. They sat in silence for a moment, the crisp night air swirling around them. Juliette sensed the lingering suspicion in Cassandra’s gaze and her grin widened. “Okay!” she laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving!”

Cassandra’s expression softened, a mixture of relief and fondness. “Good.”

“Besides, Josie just ordered me a new coat,” Juliette said with a nonchalant shrug.

Cassandra gently tugged at the sleeves of Juliette’s arm, concern threading through her voice. “You should be wearing something warmer. It’s freezing out tonight; you’ll end up sick.”

“Alright, Mother!” Juliette teased, laughter bubbling uncontrollably from her.

Cassandra pushed her shoulder playfully, a smile breaking through the seriousness before she stood. “I’m going, before—”

The sudden sound of bells rang out, slicing through the night air—loud, alarming, and impossible to ignore. Both women froze, the playful atmosphere instantly replaced by a shared sense of urgency.

Quickly jumping up, Juliette turned her gaze to the distant mountains. Flickering lights moved toward their base in a uniform manner, an indication of an approaching army. As the bells rang louder, the joyful celebrations shattered; people scattered in panic, voices rising in frantic cries. A tightness gripped Juliette’s chest, as if her ribs were being crushed. Her blood tingled with adrenaline, and she turned to Cassandra, fear evident in her wide eyes.

“What?” Cassandra gasped, her own gaze drawn to the chaos beyond the walls.

Amid the rising panic, Cullen’s voice cut through from a distance. “Forces approaching! To arms!”

Cassandra drew her sword, her grip firm and resolute, and shook Juliette’s arm, pulling her from her stunned daze. “We must get to the gates!”

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