Eleven years. Eleven very long years had passed. Cullen's heart felt as if it was going to flutter right out of his chest when he got word. After all this time, all the missed opportunities, he would get to see her again. He felt, for certain, he was going to lose his mind. Every call, every shout from the gate sent his stomach flipping and flopping. He'd rise immediately to look out the window and see, to see who it was. Yet each time, nothing. Or, rather, not who he sought.
"You've been different lately," the Inquisitor was saying.
"Hm?" Cullen hardly noticed, barely heard the statement. He realized he'd also been reading the same line of a report over and over and not processing one bit of it.
The Inquisitor leaned over the desk, pushing the page down and away from him. Cullen frowned, flicking his gaze up at them.
"Relax. Maybe take a break, come on."
Cullen didn't budge at first, watching the Inquisitor trot over to the door out onto the battlements. They turned, one hand on their hip.
"You need the break, Commander. Don't make me order you."
The sass brought forth a foreign, tittering sound from Cullen. He sighed, pushing out of the chair and walking around his desk to follow.
"Has there been any word from the Hero of Ferelden?" he asked as they stepped out of the office.
"Is that what all this is about?" The Inquisitor hummed, pausing to look down the battlements toward the main gate. "Should be any day now based on the reports from Leliana's scouts."
Cullen breathed out a tiny sigh of relief, smiling ever so slightly as he nodded a thanks to the Inquisitor. Beside him the Inquisitor let out a slight gasp, gesturing toward the main pathway up to Skyhold.
"Look there, seems any day is really any minute." They laughed gently, patting Cullen on the shoulder. "Let's go greet her."
As the Inquisitor headed down the steps and to the main gate, Cullen hesitated. Trying to quiet the quivering sensations racing throughout his body. He took a deep breath and followed after the Inquisitor, attempting to keep his step in check.
When he laid eyes on her, his heart lept into his throat. Then sunk dreadfully low. She was different. Not just older, but paler and more gaunt. Her ears jutted out past the sweeping style of her thinning hair, pale eyes nearly lifeless. Dark veins were prominent across her cheeks, down her neck and across the exposed skin of her hands that wrapped around her staff. The staff he remembered her excitedly showing him after her Harrowing. The staff that she now used more like a walking stick than the instrument of a powerful mage.
Cullen came up alongside the Inquisitor, biting back on any smiles as he further studied her nearly lifeless appearance. She looked to him, her eyes clouded and distant. Cullen felt his mouth run dry as he took half a step closer.
"N-Neria?"
Her brow furrowed. "I'm sorry," she croaked out, her voice ashy and foreign. "Have we met?"
