A/N: What can I say? Inquisitor with a kid was a thing that popped into my head and wouldn't leave me the hell alone. The Rape/Non-con warning is for later chapters, I doubt it will be graphic but I feel I should put the warning out there now.


"She has… a child? Are you sure?" Cullen was having some difficulty wrapping his mind around the concept. It was the last thing he had expected to hear when Leliana and Cassandra came barreling into the Chantry after their trip up the mountain. In truth, Cullen hadn't entirely expected to see them again alive. For once, he was happy to be wrong.

Leliana threw him an exasperated look as she paced before the large table in the War Room, gloved fists clenching and unclenching at her sides; Cullen had never seen her so agitated. Her clothing was dirty and torn and her eyes tired with a simmering grief that seemed to be barely held in check. It had been a long day, an insane day, the world had ended and only they remained to pick up the pieces.

And what a sorry bunch we are, he thought dismally.

"Of course I'm sure! And I wouldn't call the boy a child; he was fourteen summers at least. We'd just laid the woman down for the healer and were discussing what we should do next when the boy burst in yelling 'Mother! Mother!' at the top of his lugs. He began shaking her by the shoulders so Cassandra was forced to pull him away. Took an age to calm him enough to confirm what was already quite obvious, kept insisting that we must have harmed her in some way. A stubborn boy, but clearly very devoted to her."

Cullen tried to reconcile this new information with the brief memory he had of the woman in question –the woman the people in Haven had already begun to call 'The Herald of Andraste. His memory was burdened by shock and fear and his desperation to defend, but he recalled a pale aristocratic face, a shock of red hair, and wide yellow-green eyes. She'd seemed young… younger, at least, than himself.

"How old is she?" he blurted out, the filter between his brains and mouth apparently gone in the face of exhaustion and desperation.

Cassandra huffed. "We hardly took the time to ask her, Cullen, we had far more pressing matters at hand. Though she did ask, before we began our trek up the mountains, if anyone in Haven had been injured and she seemed very relieved that no harm had come to anyone within the village."

"Many women have children," Josephine said, frowning at them in confusion. "I don't know that I understand the concern."

Cullen, Cassandra, and Leliana exchanged a look. Eventually, the Seeker spoke for them. "It… complicates things. We've proven that her mark can close rifts, now we must find a way to close the Breach. You saw what today did to her –closing the Breach may very well kill her. It is difficult to ask that of anyone, let alone a mother who has a responsibility to her child."

Leliana sighed and swept a hand over her face as though she might be able to wipe the day's events away. "We have little choice in the matter, or so it would seem. We can't know more till she wakes. If she wakes."

The mood darkened, which Cullen would have previously believed impossible. All their hopes, it seemed, rested with one mysterious woman. He felt terribly hopeless.


The Herald woke two days later.

Leliana called a meeting and Cullen waited anxiously in the War Room, staring beseechingly at the little wooden and metal figures that denoted their meager forces and delicate plans across a worn map of Thedas, wishing they would come to life and tell him something, anything of use. He looked South, toward Honnleath, and thought, not for the first time, of the path which had led him here, of the boy who had once been so eager to serve, to escape his small village and his family's modest farm. There was little of that boy left; the Order, the path which he'd believed in, no longer existed, if it ever had at all. For a bright moment the Inquisition had seemed his chance at redemption, at finding a new and brighter path, now everything seemed cast in darkness and uncertainty.

He sighed deeply and prayed to the Maker that their unlikely savior would be willing and able to help them. Perhaps the Maker had finally played his hand and sent them someone who could set the world back on its proper axis.

The door opened a moment later and she swept into the room like a force of nature. Cullen took in her carefully neutral features, her graceful gait, and his heart sank. She was lovely and delicate in the way noble women often are, and she held herself with an air of one who was used to the world behaving in a manner she expected. She wore a simple woolen dress, her hair braided and coiled into a neat mass atop her head, every inch a lady despite the simplicity of her attire.

A young man trailed after her, face and stature defiant, his hair the same bright red as his mother's, though his eyes were darker. The lad was tall but lanky, still gangly with the last vestiges of childhood that clung to cheeks and arms, but Cullen -who had something of an eye for such things- thought he would grow to be a strong man indeed. Still, she seemed too young, too soft, likely not even in her thirties and certainly not old enough to have a son nearly grown. There was a story there, though he supposed it hardly mattered. She could be an abomination and still they would need her.

Cassandra and Leliana were right behind the pair with Josephine trailing after, scribbling something furiously on a bit of parchment.

Cassandra wasted no time.

"You remember Commander Cullen, I presume," she said and the woman inclined her head slightly in greeting. Her eyes were sharp, questing, as though she were attempting to divulge his secrets as she sized him up with a glance.

Cullen cleared his throat, swallowing his disappointment. The last thing they needed was some delicate courtier; they needed someone strong, resilient, who knew how to take care of themselves and help others –help them, for Maker's sake. The woman standing so demurely before them was likely used to a household of servants, accustomed to never having to stoop so low as to dirty her own hands with such menial things as living. He had the feeling whatever transpired from this moment would hardly involve fine carriages and afternoon tea parties.

He forced himself to smile and said, "It was only for a moment, but I am glad to see that you are alive, Lady…"

"Trevelyan," Cassandra said, somewhat snappish. He thought she was likely as thrilled by their current prospects as he.

"Janessa," the woman said. Her voice was soft, musical, but it held an edge, the barest trace of a challenge. "And this is my son, Ruan." The boy bowed a bit, his stern eyes sweeping the room as though expecting one of them to leap after him or his mother at any moment. Cullen wondered if it was merely the hot-bloodedness of youth or something else, something bred of unfortunate experience. Questions, always more questions and hardly any answers.

Cassandra proceeded to formally introduce the others in the room before getting directly to the matter at hand.

"We must close the Breach," she said sternly, fist banging lightly on the table. "The Chantry has abandoned us, accused everyone here of heresy, they will be of little help to us now. We cannot go to either the Mages or Templars, both are too busy fighting each other despite the hole in the sky and we seem to have little means to bridge the gap."

"There is a Chantry mother in the Hinterlands who wishes to speak to the Herald of Andraste," Leliana said quietly from her corner of shadows and dancing torch light, masking her features in a myriad of twisting shapes and impressions. "She believes she has a way to garner support from the Chantry."

Cullen frowned. It was late, past dinner, and a headache was brewing behind his eyes. "The Hinterlands is a war zone. Rouge Templars and Mages roam the wilds, fighting each other with little regard to those who get in their way." What he didn't say was that he highly doubted such a place was something their 'Herald' could handle.

Leliana shrugged. "What choice do we have?" And that, he supposed, was the crux of the matter. This woman was likely not who any of them would have chosen, but Andraste nor the Marker nor whatever twisted artificer of fate had created such an anomaly, had asked them what they wanted when providing them with the means of their salvation. They would have to make the best of what they had been given.

"She's right," Josephine said with a sigh. "No one else is willing to speak with us. We must try."

"We will go," Lady Trevelyan said calmly. "We will do whatever we can to help."

Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck. "I'm not sure you understand the implications of what traveling there entails-"

He broke off as her gaze swept over him, cold and unflinching. "I understand the implications of a massive tear within the fabric of our reality, Commander, and that I hold the key to closing it," she said in the same calm voice. She raised a delicate hand, a jagged mark across the palm. "I do not know if I have been chosen by Andraste or if I am merely the product of a plan gone awry. My father and sister were within the Temple and I owe it to them to do all I can to ensure their deaths are not in vain. "

Cullen felt a stab of shame, regretting perhaps, some of his unkind assumptions. Even Cassandra looked somewhat mollified as she stared hard at the map before them, as though hoping, as he had, that some other solution might present itself. The silence hung heavy for a few long moments before Josephine cleared her throat delicately.

"As Commander Cullen said, the Hinterlands are dangerous and it would perhaps be best if your son stayed behind in Haven while you met with this sister."

The boy –Ruan- glared, crossing his arms over his chest, and said nothing. The Herald smiled slightly. "I appreciate your concern Lady Montilyet, but my son goes where I go. I will not leave him behind in the company of strangers."

"You can trust us," Cullen offered, alarmed by the idea she would knowingly place her son in such danger.

Again, her eyes swept over him and somehow they made him feel small, foolish even. There was a deep well of intelligence and perception there that he –they- should all be wary of. "I appreciate the sentiment, Commander, but I do not know any of you well enough to entrust the care of that which matters most to me in this world. I have lost all that remains of my family, I will not risk the loss of my son. Ruan and I can take care of ourselves, I assure you." She made no mention of a husband, something he noted quietly in the back of his mind.

Cullen couldn't quite stop the look of disbelief that he was certain was plastered across his face. He was relieved to see that Cassandra wore a similar expression; Leliana remained swathed in shadow, her thoughts unreadable. Their spy master had stayed remarkably quiet throughout the exchange.

Josephine tittered nervously. "I believe that is enough for the evening. We've all had a trying few days and the Herald certainly needs her rest. We can solidify our plans of the Hinterlands tomorrow."

The Herald nodded slightly and exchanged a glance with her son. "Thank you, Lady Montilyet, Seeker Pentaghast, Commander Cullen," she said politely, and left with her head held high. Ruan's eyes scanned them all, his gaze nearly as intelligent and perceptive as his mother's, before following after without having spoken a single word. Cullen thought Leliana had guessed wrong; the boy was likely no older than twelve, but was large for his age.

Cassandra left immediately after, brow furrowed in deep thought and, apparently, had nothing to say to anyone either. Cullen could imagine how she must feel; of everyone within their fledging order, he thought he and the Seeker understood one another best.

Soon only he and Leliana remained -Josephine having excused herself, muttering distractedly under her breath. The woman peeled herself from the shadows and Cullen was shocked to see she was smiling.

"What on earth are you so happy about," he demanded, beyond frustrated.

Leliana chuckled and her eyes twinkled with an emotion Cullen couldn't place. "Be careful you do not judge our Herald too quickly, that woman will be a force to reckon with."

She was gone before Cullen could formulate an adequate response to what was likely the most insane thing he'd heard all day, and that was saying a great deal.

He looked down again at the map of Thedas and tried very hard not to think of all the lives he was certain depended on them.

"Maker, help us."