Cullen was your advisor and nothing more. That was the line he drew, over and over, each time his heart betrayed him. He had a duty to the Inquisition, to you as its leader. But still, his heart would race every time you stood beside him at the war table, or when he caught sight of you training in the courtyard, your focus and strength captivating in a way he couldn’t ignore. The feelings started as a quiet hum but soon grew into something undeniable. Love.

He tried to bury it, much like the time in the Circle when a mage had made her affections known, and he’d fled, too scared to face his emotions. He had been a coward then, and the same fear held him now, making him hesitate, making him doubt. How could he approach you with his feelings when the mere thought of it made his heart race with the same terror that had consumed him back then?

When he finally gathered the courage, thinking perhaps it was time to stop running, he saw you with someone else—smiling, sharing a moment he had been too afraid to ask for. The weight of the realization hit him hard, reminding him of the mage at the Circle, of how he had fumbled and let everything slip away.

He was your advisor and nothing more.