Oh yes, another Cullen and Inquisitor romance. If you're here, you already know you love it or you think you might love it and need more convincing; either way, I hope this is the story for you! But fair warning, there's lots of off canon, especially with my Inquisitor's backstory, and it's rated M for a reason.

Disclaimer: silly Bioware doesn't need us all to declare we don't own their characters, but we do it anyway!

Hope you enjoy and you're avidly playing and replaying as I am!

Edit: It's rated M because of sexual assault that occurred prior to the story's opening, which is not and will not be described in detail (beyond some Cole-type dialogue) but is a plot point and is discussed fairly frequently. I just want to make that clear. However, I will flag all chapters that discuss it in any detail, if there are those of you who would like to read this story, but feel that it may be a trigger for you in any way. Alternatively, you can PM me and I will send you edited versions of the chapters if you'd prefer. I don't want anyone to feel uncomfortable or feel like they're missing out, so please don't hesitate to contact me!

Ok, that's all, back to the story :)

Chapter 1 – Unsettled

"Holy mackerel," she said, sliding her thinly gloved palm up the side of the stone wall. "This place is…" From a distance, she'd been stunned by the fortress Solas led them to, but up close, it was even more awe inspiring, and daunting.

Because she knew what came next, the shoes she'd be asked to fill once their new home was claimed. It had only been a matter of time, and it intimidated her immensely.

"Nice job, Baldy," Varric said appreciatively, giving Solas a rough pat on the back.

"I did not think it possible," Cassandra agreed, staring up in wonder at Skyhold's thick stone battlements and soaring watch towers. "It's perfect."

Tara looked over her shoulder at the giant bridge they'd just crossed to get to the hold's main gates. "Corypheus certainly won't be sneaking up on us again," she muttered, more to herself than anyone.

"He has a dragon, Herald," Solas pointed out.

"Way to ruin the moment."

The bald mage raised the corner of his mouth slightly, turning away from her to resume his efforts to help Varric open the keep's gates, and she sighed. While they were similar in race, and possibly humor, she had done far more to offend the man than to earn his trust in the past weeks, extolling the virtues of the Dalish, without really knowing anything about them, bemoaning that she had only been with a clan a handful of months and had never been marked with the blood writing that characterized those she considered her people… He'd backed down soon enough during that spat, having accepted her apologies graciously, but Tara couldn't shake the feeling that he was disappointed in her. It made the back of her neck itch when she looked at him.

In reality, she was no more Dalish than he was. She was born Dalish, yes, but after they abandoned her… Well, she had spent much more time with humans than elves, and, despite her ideas about the traditionalists of her race, she had never been very "elfy," as Sera would say. Returning to the Dalish had been an act of desperation, one that never made her feel right or at home, orphan that she was.

Still, the ideal of being Dalish, she clung to. It was the only thing she could claim as heritage, the closest thing she had to family.

She hoped Solas had understood her reasons, as little as she'd explained them to him. She didn't like feeling like she was being judged for trying to be proud of her race; she and Sera had been through similar struggles on the subject. Regardless of the fact the only real thing that tied her to them were her pointed ears.

"Herald!" Commander Cullen came galloping up on one of Dennet's steeds, gold hair shining in the cold morning sun. As he crossed the bridge, a few soldiers in tow on mounts of their own, the fur coat he wore over his heavy plate armor billowed behind him magnificently in the wind. Tara chuckled a little at the sight; she was almost certain he wore that thing for the damn effect.

"Commander! To what do I owe the pleasure?" she called casually, attempting to make light of the entrance, though she sensed trouble.

Cullen pulled his horse to a stop right in front of her, leaning down and reaching a hand out to help her onto the back of his steed as he spoke. "A rift appeared right in the caravan's path and it's spitting rage demons. We need you to close it before we're overtaken." She took his hand, placing her boot in the stirrup he'd vacated for the moment, and swung easily into the saddle behind him. It was only once she was there, that she realized what close proximity that would put them in, and her throat constricted.

She hadn't been that close to a man, any man, especially a human, especially a Templar, in years. She gulped down her nerves, meeting Cassandra's eyes, which had a knowing sheen. Tara had told her a little about her rocky past, and she seemed to recognize the elf's discomfort.

"You three stay here and get that door open. I'm sure you can handle whatever scavengers may be lurking inside, but stick to the first level if you can so I can find you when I return with the others." The orders came naturally to her now, not like they had when she'd first joined the Inquisition; then it had been maddening trying to find the right words, the right balance between comrade and commander, as the mark on her hand made her Commander and Chief of the 'Close the Maker Forsaken Rifts and Find Out What The Hell Happened' Brigade.

She admitted to herself she'd looked to the man whose back she was now pressed against in the saddle several times as an example as she made that transition; he'd always seemed like such a natural to Tara. Now she realized that he'd probably grown into the role the same way she had, not that the superior smirk he was always throwing at her hinted at any such learning curve.

"Hold on," he said briskly to her, as he nudged his heels into the horse's sides, making her start forward. Tara wrapped her arms around his armored waist, reminding herself repeatedly of who he was, why she was there, what he wanted from her. It did nothing to lessen the pounding of her heart at having her legs wrapped around his own, in whatever capacity.

Cullen urged the horse into a gallop, making them jar against each other uncomfortably, the edges of his armor digging into her at each uneven point of the path. She actually welcomed the feeling, knowing it distanced the current situation from the memory that made her body tense and her skin crawl, though not enough to put her ease.

It was with relief that she bounded off the horse, the green gash on her hand sparking uncomfortably as she trotted towards its larger counterpart.

The rift wasn't very large, but it was just off the main path, a sickening tear in the fabric of their world, festering with green light like that of the anchor. And the Commander had not been lying about the demons. Her companions who had remained with the Haven caravan were scattered in between groups of soldiers, attempting to fend off the rage demons spewing from the rip in the Fade.

Since her people were keeping the demons occupied, she went straight for the rift, dodging groups of soldiers and a few injured until she stood directly beneath the glowing mass. Summoning on the force she still didn't understand, she raised her marked hand and pushed out with her mind toward the break, imagining it being shoved closed from all sides. Tara closed her eyes, focusing, feeling the energy surge out from the anchor to the chaos of the rift, concentrating on shrinking that chaos until it was nothing but a miniscule scar on the face of the Fade.

When she opened her eyes, the rift was gone, and, weakened, the demons were quickly dealt with.

"Good work!" Cullen trotted towards her, smiling that golden boy smile of his.

She waved him off, her body still reacting warily after the ride over, despite that sense told it otherwise. "That was a little one."

"That was a little one?" the Commander repeated, not looking convinced. "It was half the size of the Breach!"

"Trust me," she chuckled, running a shaky hand through her deep red hair.

Don't you trust me, Tara? Hollith's words echoed back in her head, and she winced at the connection. She hadn't been affected like this in a long time; why now?

Cullen's mouth quirked in that lopsided smirk she'd come to recognize as his trademark, and he dismissed himself to check on the wounded.

Tara watched him go, confusion and fear swimming through her usually solid determination. This could not become a problem again. Not now.