My Warden (COMPLETED)

Future

"Commander," a head bobbed in his direction. He didn't catch the smile and wandering eyes until Cullen already passed the Sister. Fighting down the urge to whip around and glare, or stand rigid, he roughed up the fur on Honor's head. She dodged away after a moment, in no mood for his attention. Sighing, Cullen glanced fully down at his dog who was still trailing a small puddle of water all the way across the streets of Val Royeaux.

"Do not blame me for your state, you chose to go diving in the river." In response, Honor barked once and stuck her chest out, proud of her accomplishment. Chuckling, he sighed, "Not every stick needs to be rescued. Some seem rather happy to keep floating on by. You'd do well to remember that." Petting her fur once more and trying to slick off the more pungent river water, Cullen spoke to himself, "As would I."

"Afternoon, Commander," another person greeted him, this one of the rarer Brothers in the chantry.

He tipped his chin at the man who didn't look much beyond the age of twenty, no doubt someone sold to the chantry at a young age or as a babe. It was rare for men to rise so far so fast unless they had a lifetime behind them. "Brother," Cullen answered, accepting that he had no way of knowing who that was.

The man gestured at Honor, "May I?"

"Of course, she'd love it," he folded his arms and watched the regal facade crack as the young man dropped to the ground to pet the mabari. She, in turn, played with him, leaping about and barking in joy.

"Thank you," the Brother said as if Cullen just pulled him from the river. Bowing deep at the waist once more he said, "Commander," and then scuttled away.

Three months in Val Royeaux and everyone in the Grand Cathedral was aware of his presence, that the Commander of the Inquisition graced their halls. Except, he wasn't that anymore. He'd given up his commission, turned in his metaphoric sword and shield - the Inquisitor insisted he keep his actual ones. And yet, that was all anyone knew to refer to him as, his rank. It had been his identity for so much of his life. Duty, orders, following the chain of command and then, Maker help him, leading it himself.

And now, who was he? Lana'd been asking as of late if he had any pressing hobbies he'd always wanted to pick up but never had the chance. She'd make mention of a boat from time to time, as if that was the only way for a broken down soldier to retire. Threatening sea voyages were all in Cullen's past, if he could have his way. Even skimming across a lake put a dull knife in his gut, as if he was traversing Lake Calenhad again, heading out to the tower. He'd tried to suggest chess, but Lana scoffed at that as one, something that wouldn't take more than an afternoon's worth of time, and two, just more strategic planning. He had to have a life outside of war, but...

What if he didn't? The last hobby Cullen could remember from before he became a templar involved knotting together the hair of Mia's dolls. Which was probably not what Lana was thinking of. So much of his life was devoted first to joining the templars, then honing his mind and body to be the best, and finally, picking up the pieces of the order. Now the remnants he could save reseted safely inside a box, what was left?

"What am I going to do with my life?" he whispered at Honor.

In response, she sat down and brought her teeth to her hindquarters, giving them all a good scratch. "Yes, well, that will at best finish off an hour for the attempt and a day and a half of recovery for me. I think I'll keep looking in the meantime."

With a hand skimming along the railing, Cullen strode up the staircase to their apartments. How much longer would they be theirs? If Leliana had it her way, until Divine Victoria ascended to the Maker's side. She wasn't subtle about it either, now offering suggestions that they should offer up their own input for decorating. Though Cullen's suggestions to take the bed out back, douse it in holy water and then set it on fire with anointed flames, went ignored. He knew he should bring his concerns up with Lana, the depths of his soul telling him he didn't belong in Val Royeaux, but whenever the idea flitted through his mind he froze. What if she wanted to stay permanently? What would he do?