A Worthy Heart

by ahlewis32

Tired of mages and Templars, Knight Captain Cullen resigns his commission in the Order and returns to Ferelden to settle down. His journey will lead him to the one woman who will hold his heart but he must fight to keep her and her son from the grips of

A Worthy Heart

My Maker, know my heart
Take from me a life of sorrow
Lift me from a world of pain
Judge me worthy of Your endless pride

Kirkwall Gallows

It was enough, he had decided. Six months of trying to reorganize, rebuild and recruit had been enough. "There was no time like the present," he thought as he organized his travel kit.

The armor, so much a part of him for the last twenty plus years, sat leaning in the corner of his quarters, polished and clean, just like he had always kept it. The sisters at the orphanage had taught him well, everything was always spotless and neat, in its place. He had come loathe it so much, it had begun to hurt. He picked up his helmet from the bed and set it on the dresser, secretly wanting to throw it at the wall. "That wouldn't solve anything," he said to himself. He'd settle for not making the bed, a last act of rebellion from a now rebellious soul.

He packed his sword; it was his anyway, bought and paid for with his hard-earned money. For years he'd preferred two-handed but age had caught up with him so he'd switched to longsword and shield. It was light-weight and razor sharp; he'd need it where he was going, at least for a while. He sheathed it and strapped it on. The shield lay on the bed where he had dropped it; it was a good shield but marked so he'd leave it behind. Another could be procured easily enough.

He bent down and pulled out the trunk from under the bed, took out a key from his pocket and unlocked the lock. Inside he found the bag and opened it to check the contents, "Enough for two months," he thought, "Three, if I'm cautious." A new source would have to found as soon as possible or a cure, neither task would prove easy, he knew.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the door, followed by a soft knock. "Come," he called as he packed the bag into his ruck sack.

"I have the papers you asked for, Knight Commander," said Hugh, his now former aide.

"Thank you, Ser Hugh," he replied, "and you don't have to call me that. I'm not anymore."

Hugh shuffled his feet, "I know ser. It's just…well; you still are, to many of us, despite what happened."

He smiled at that; that he still had their loyalty was comforting. "Very well, Ser Hugh. But I would that you called me Ser Cullen, it is my title now. They can't take my knighthood from me; only the queen can do that and I suspect Anora has more important things to worry about than me."

Hugh smiled and handed him the papers, sealed and stamped with the seal of the Grand Cleric; his discharge, bought and paid for. "What will you do now, ser?" asked Hugh.

Cullen took one last look around the room, trying to remember if he had forgotten anything, "I'm not sure, home I think. It's been a while since I was there."

"I understand ser. I miss Orlais now. It has been ten years since that journey here," he paused, gathering his thoughts; "I wanted to thank you for all the opportunities you have given me. You will be missed."

Cullen smiled at him. He'd been a boy when they had come here from Orlais, now he was a man. It had been hard for him at first, but he had been strong. "Thank you, Ser Hugh. You should know that I have recommended you to the new Knight Commander as an excellent choice for an aide. You have served me well, and I would have you know that."

Hugh's eyes lit up, "Thank you, ser! Thank you. I will try to live up to your expectations."

"You are most welcome, ser. Now I should leave before they come to throw me out," he told Hugh, laughing, his eyes twinkling in merriment

Hugh was taken aback for a moment, and then he smiled, "Oh. Very well, ser." He held out his hand to his former commander, "Good luck, ser. May the Maker watch over you."

Cullen took the young man's hand and shook it. "Maker watch over you also, Hugh." The young knight smiled again and nodded, then left the room.

Cullen looked around one more time at the place he'd called home for ten years, taking stock of what he'd be taking and leaving one last time. He picked up his kit, shouldered his ruck sack and walked to the door, opening it, turning around one last time. He sighed then, and dropped his packs. "Maker, they did teach me well,' he thought as he made the bed one last time.

Lowtown District, Kirkwall

Cullen's sources told him the man to see about a quick passage and liquidation of assets was Varric Tethras, the new owner of the Hanged Man Tavern in Lowtown. He'd need a shield before he walked in there, for sure. He spied an armorer's stall and stopped to look, finally buying a plain round steel shield after haggling for twenty minutes.

He waited while the man checked and reinforced the straps and buckler on the shield, watching the people go by on their daily business. A young elven woman with reddish brown hair and green eyes walked by, smiling at him as she passed. Cullen closed his eyes and remembered another just like her, gone from his life so long now. He'd never forgotten her, just as he'd promised, but couldn't be sure she had done the same. There had been little word of her in the last few years; it was like she'd disappeared. Still, he knew she'd married her prince and had her own life. "Always," he thought.

The shield ready, he strapped it on and headed to the Hanged Man and Tethras. Walking in the door cautiously, he looked around for anyone to ask, finally settling on a buxom barmaid who looked him up and down appraisingly before asking, "Mmm…what can I do for you, handsome?"

Cullen smiled at her, thinking of some things she could do, but stayed on his path, "I'm looking for Varric Tethras."

"You must be the one he said to watch for. He's in the back and up the steps, sweetie. Let me know if you need anything else," she winked at him and ran her hand up his arm before sauntering off. He sighed and walked to the back and up the stairs to Tethras' apartments.

A middle-aged dwarf with blond hair and the strangest crossbow he'd ever seen sat at the head of the table, holding court with a half dozen patrons. He'd heard of the dwarf's storytelling prowess and had heard many of the tales he'd spun. It seemed the rumors were true.

"Excuse me; I'm looking for Varric Tethras," he asked.

"You must be the one Manning told me about. Come in, sit a while," he gestured to a seat next to him that was instantly vacated by its occupant. Cullen sat down as beckoned.

"What is it I can do for you today?" Varric asked.

"I'm in need of some quick coin and was told you were the one to see," he told the dwarf.

"Well then, you have come to the right place. What do you have?"

Cullen handed him the documents of ownership. "I was hoping you had a buyer for this property."

Varric looked up from the papers, "How much will you want?"

"I was hoping for a hundred."

Varric thought for a minute, then got out a small book and thumbed through it, whistling softly. "Sixty," he replied.

"Eighty."

"Seventy-five, that's final," said Varric, smiling.

Cullen smiled back. Everything they said about the man was true, "Done. How soon?"

"Oh, I think I can take care of that now. You do understand there is a ten percent fee?"

"I wouldn't expect less," he countered, smiling.

"Good; a drink to celebrate," said Varric, smiling slyly, "Now, captain, what's your story?"

Two hours later, he emerged, a couple of stories lighter and many sovereigns heavier. With Tethras' help he'd secured passage on a ship leaving on the next tide. Things had begun to look better already. He shouldered his packs and headed for the docks.

Denerim

The ship docked at the eastern side of Denerim for offloading. It hadn't been a pleasant trip but it had gone quickly. Two days out, a storm had hit that rocked the vessel for hours, causing damage and no little amount of stress amongst passengers and crew.

Cullen had seized an opportunity and volunteered to help make repairs on the ship to keep her going; an offer that was immediately accepted by her captain. "Five sovereigns for the rest of the trip," he'd offered, "Do well and I'll refund your passage when we arrive at Denerim."

"Agreed," he'd said, and was shown where to start.

Three weeks later they had limped into the Denerim port, still afloat, with Cullen vowing to never sail again. His muscles ached in places he never knew they could and he'd had damn little sleep during the last three weeks. The captain was more than satisfied and had been good to his word, giving him five sovereigns and refunding his passage along with an offer of a job if he was ever interested. He declined graciously and thanked the man, then turned and headed down the gangplank into his future.

He walked through the gates, heading towards the market district. Experience had taught him the best lodging for the money could be had there. Cullen took stock of his money; he had the sixty-eight sovereigns from Tethras, plus five for his work on the ship, plus another five for his passage, making seventy-eight total. He shook his head, "Not even close," he said to himself.

He had formulated a plan during the last few months and would make it work. Ten years before, he had journeyed from Kinloch Hold to Denerim to take ship for Kirkwall. Traveling through the Bannorn, he'd spied a run-down farmhouse and barn in the distance. His driver at the time was a local man, "Who owns that holding?" Cullen asked him.

"Ahhh," he'd said, "That is owned by Bann Sirus now, I believe. Owner was killed at Ostagar and his family had to give it up. Too bad that, nice family, good land there."

Cullen had thought for a minute, "How much would he accept for it?"

"Oh, I don't think he'd take less than a hundred fifty for that piece. It's very good land; has its own water, fields and pasture. A man could make a good living there. No, a hundred fifty would be his price."

He'd nodded and they had gone on but the thought had never left him. He been born on a small holding just like it, vine covered and fertile, a place a man could be proud of. His father had been a soldier with Arl Bryland in the Orlesian war and had been knighted and given a post with the Arl in South Reach. He'd married and settled on a small farmhold. Cullen had been born soon after and the family had been happy for a time. His father had taught him to live off the land and given him his first instruction in weapons. He was a firm man, but fair, and had instilled in his son the desire to succeed and given him the drive to do so.

His mother was pious and pretty, loving and kind and he had adored her. She took him to the Chantry daily for prayers and taught him the importance of faith in his life. After his father died in battle, the Chantry had helped them with their needs, and after his mother fell ill, her care. She died when he was eight and they took him in, educating and training him into the man he was today. If they had only known.

Cullen snapped out of his reverie and formulated a plan, food, lodging, work, then off to the Bannorn. He'd need two hundred to make it work well; one fifty for the land and fifty to outfit it and support him until he got a crop. He had a long ways to go to get that hundred twenty two he needed. He headed for the market.

There was a tavern called the Merchant's Haven on the corner at the edge of the market that looked promising for a meal and a drink, so he went in. He found a table in the corner with view of the whole room, his warriors' habit causing him to smile. A pretty young maid with golden hair and a big smile came up, "What can I get you today, ser?"

"Ale and stew with some bread, please," he told her. She was off in a flash, returning quicker.

"Tell me, love," he asked, "what are the prospects for work and lodging around here?"

"That would depend on your skills, ser," she answered, "There are many for those who aren't picky what they do. Pay might not be the best, though. As for lodging, we rent rooms here, three silvers for a month."

"Then what's the best work that pays the most?"

The girl thought a bit, "Flint Company is always looking for people, if you aren't too picky. They're a mercenary group, based out of the Free Marches. Bram Meron's the head of the group here in Denerim; you can find him in the back of The Lion on the other side of the market."

"Thanks love, you've been a big help," and he tossed her a silver, "Keep the change."

"Thank you ser! Let me know if there's anything else I do for you," she curtsied and was off.

He ate the stew and bread, savoring its flavor as the best he'd had since Kirkwall, then talked to the proprietor about a room. "Secure and clean," he'd been told. He'd doubted that and called for water, soap and a rag as soon as he settled in. An hour later, he agreed with the man's assessment.

Opening his purse, he dumped the money on the bed. He'd decided to carry only sliver and coppers on his person. He took the sovereigns and placed them back in the bag, looked around the room, then pulled the heavy bedstead out from the wall and got behind it. Using his dagger, he pried one of the wall boards up, revealing a space suitable for stashing small goods. He placed the purse in the space, then inserted the board back in its place. After moving the bed back against the wall, no one could tell the board was loose.

Cullen picked up the silver and copper coins and put them in the pocket of his breeches, then got out his ruck sack. Opening the inner bag, he dumped out the bottles he had left. "About six weeks," he thought. He'd have to find a smuggler soon or he'd be in trouble. Lyrium withdrawal wasn't a pretty thing to watch and he didn't want to imagine what it was like to experience. He'd been slowly lowering the dosage bit by bit since he'd left Kirkwall, hoping that would make it easier to quit, but he was having issues with stamina and fatigue. Cullen hoped that would soon be over. He opened a flask and took a small drink.

He sat down on the bed and examined his prospects. He was a soldier, a knight, and a trained fighter. Mercenary work was demeaning for a man who'd spent nearly his entire life with the order. Most companies would take him, he knew, but the work would be criminal in its own right, not exactly what he was comfortable with. There was private guard work or even the city guard, but pay was low and conditions poor. Dock worker, craftsman, all were possibilities but not easy to come by. Mercenary it would have to be and he would be choosy about the jobs if possible.

He poured some fresh water into the bowl and washed his face and hands, drying them on his shirt. He pulled a clean tunic out from his bag, took off his shirt and put the clean tunic on. He checked the mirror to see if he needed a shave, and finding he didn't, combed his hair and went out to stand in the unemployment line.

Bram Meron was right where the girl said he'd be, in the back of the Lion. He was stopped at the door and searched by a guard, who confiscated his dagger, sword and shield. "Just a precaution; you can never be too careful," the guard said. Meron nodded to the guard and Cullen entered the room.

He was a medium sized man with a hard look and the scars to go with it. Cullen had learned that he ran a protection business in the market district as well as contracted for "special" jobs as needed. "They got the job done," he was told, "Just don't ask how."

"I'm looking for a job," he told Meron.

"Well, then, you seem fit. What can you do?" Meron asked.

"Twenty years in the army, warrior trained. I'm can use a sword, shield, bow, and fight hand to hand," Cullen replied.

"That's good. I can always use someone with lots of experience. You understand I'll have to try you out."

Cullen understood; he would have done the same, "What's the job?" he asked.

Ethan was an elven merchant with a stall in the middle of the market. Cullen stood back a while and watched the man, gauging him for any threat. He seemed a nice sort, but not much of a salesman. After an hour, the man had sold to only three customers while the surrounding stalls had served many more. When the crowd in front of the area thinned, Cullen made his move.

"Good afternoon, friend. Might I interest you in some potions for healing?" asked Ethan.

He stepped closer to the elf, causing the man to take a step back. "Meron sent me."

"I…I know I owe, but I haven't got it. You can see how business is," he sputtered nervously.

Cullen bent down a bit to look him in the eye, "Business is bad because you are a lousy salesman."

Ethan was stunned. "What did you say?"

"Call out your wares to your customers, charge a decent price; just a bit lower than your competitors but still one you can live with."

"Uh…okay," replied Ethan.

"Meron says you owe two sovereigns," he declared," I have a proposition for you that will make your life a little easier. Interested?"

Ethan was intrigued. "Tell me what you want," he replied, and Cullen smiled.

A job and a smuggler in one visit; he had never been so lucky. Ethan had agreed to procure the necessary lyrium for him as well as research a rumored cure that might be available. In return, Cullen agreed to pay half of the man's protection as long as the lyrium flowed. It was a good deal all around.

Meron was impressed with his abilities and hired him, telling him to report in the morning for an assignment. They had shaken hands and had a drink, and then he had left. Ethan had introduced him to an armorer friend who outfitted him in a suit of good chain mail for a modest sum and he headed for the Merchant's Haven, a meal, a drink and a good night's sleep. He could only hope the luck would hold.

Unfortunately the luck ran out too quickly. While the jobs kept coming, but the lyrium wavered and he was forced to seek other avenues. He didn't blame Ethan; the man was only a cog in a larger machine. So, when Ethan couldn't produce, he was forced to pay the Carta smugglers their outlandish prices, causing him to delve into his savings. He had started with seventy eight sovereigns and after two months was only up to ninety one; he should have been at a hundred five. The dream was looking farther and farther away.

He walked into Meron's "office" as he called it to pick up the next job. Meron was waiting for him with the latest task.

"I need you to take out someone," Meron said.

Cullen was not surprised that Meron was taking his jobs to the next level. He had completed every task assigned successfully and well. The man was impressed; it was natural that he would want to "promote" him.

"I'm not an assassin, Bram," he said firmly. "I told you that."

Meron walked over and poured two drinks, offering one to Cullen who accepted politely. "Perhaps, but I know you have killed before…in the Gallows…at Kirkwall."

It was too good to be true. His past had found him. "All right, so you know. I don't do that anymore; I have my discharge to prove it."

"An officer and a Templar; you are something, my friend," Meron said admiringly, "Trained in dealing with mages, I suspect? That would explain the lyrium buying you've been doing." He paused, "You should have known I'd find out. A commander has to know all about the men under him."

Cullen did indeed know he'd find out, but he had hoped he'd be off the lyrium by then. "What do you want?" his eyes narrowing.

Meron paced back and forth, searching for just the right words to motivate. This was a prize he had and he could not let him go yet. "From time to time I receive offers for certain "jobs," quite profitable ones that I have so far had to turn down due to inadequate manpower. It seems you have the necessary, shall we say, talents, for those jobs."

"Go on."

"My proposition is simple. I assign you those jobs and you complete them, quickly and quietly. I give you more than the usual cut, say, thirty percent."

"Sixty," Cullen countered.

"Forty," said Meron.

"Fifty," said Cullen.

Meron hated to admit it, but he would be worth it, providing he could do the job, "Done," he agreed.

Cullen took a sip of the whiskey in his glass. "What's the target?"

"Mages," was the answer.

Meron's job had him standing in the shadows outside of a pub near the Alienage. The mage would be there, leaving when the place closed for the Alienage and his hideout. As the last drunk was hauled out, Cullen spied his prey, signaling his men to move in slowly.

They followed the man down the street and into the alley that connected the street with the alienage; there they made their move. Cullen cast Holy Smite to cripple the mage's spellcasting ability, repeating the spell until the mage collapsed. His men moved in and Cullen was able to attach the manacles, enchanted to prevent any use of magic by the wearer. "Take him to Meron," he told them and they hauled him away.

Cullen's knees buckled and he leaned against the wall. He would be forced to up his lyrium intake for the jobs. He had downed a larger than usual portion of potion and was feeling the effects. Nervousness and anxiety were taking him over and he had undone all the progress he had made on his weaning. "The money had better be worth it," he thought.

An hour later, he stood in Meron's office, collecting his share of the bounty. "Ten sovereigns," Meron said, "Half for you, as promised," and he handed Cullen the pouch. "Ready for more?" Cullen nodded, half-heartedly, hating himself.

On Sundays, he returned to the Chantry and services. After arriving in Denerim he had drifted away, unsure whether he should go given his present choice of life. After the mage, he had given in and gone, hoping to receive some peace, but while the peace was still elusive, he did feel better and walked back to the Merchant's Haven, and dinner.

He'd chosen to walk by the palace this trip. There were shorter routes but he was in no hurry so he took a more scenic one.

He saw her before she could see him; he ducked into a doorway and hid in the shadows to watch her. Reddish brown hair and those beautiful green eyes, she was still the stunner. She had stepped out of the Grey Wardens' compound into the street and had then turned to look back into the building. "Mama!" he'd heard a child call.

"I'm right here Duncan. Don't be so loud, dear," she had chided the boy before bending to kiss his cheek.

"Izzy?" came another voice, masculine this time, "Cullen has lost his shoe again."

"Oh, Alistair! It's in his hand. Help him put it on, we'll be late for dinner," she said, annoyed.

"Mama? Is Uncle Teagan going to be there?" asked Duncan.

"I assume so, love," she answered, to which the child clapped his hands happily.

Alistair emerged from the building carrying the younger Cullen, a charming child with the green eyes of his mother. "I hope Eamon brings out the good cheese. I've looked forward to this all week," he stated.

Isabeaux laughed at her husband's statement, taking her son in her arms. "I'm sure he will, my love," then stepped up to kiss him causing him to smile broader, "We must go though."

"All right, who's in for a race this time?" Alistair asked his son.

"I am, Papa," said Duncan excitedly.

"Then…ready…set…go!" exclaimed Alistair as the two ran down the street, Isabeaux following with the younger Cullen. Suddenly, she stopped as if she had heard something and looked around, worried. Cullen withdrew further into the shadows, waiting. When she was convinced there was nothing there, she continued down the street with her son, singing a little tune to him.

When they had gone, he came out of the shadows, still looking down the street where they had gone. "She named him after me," he thought happily. "Always," still existed for her. "Andraste bless you and the Maker keep you, my love," he said aloud.

It had taken six months and dozens of jobs and he was nearly there. He dumped the pouch on the bed and counted one hundred seventy eight; only twenty two more. Cullen had finally taken the step of writing to Bann Sirus to inquire as to the availability of the land in question or any land in the area in general, giving the Chantry as a return address to hide the fact from his associates. He sighed as he put the coins back in the pouch; it was too close, something was going to happen.

It was one of the first lessons an officer learned. Something was always going to happen; the trouble was it hadn't. It was all too easy and that in itself smelled rotten to him. But only the Maker knew the future, so he continued on, praying that he'd be done before whatever it was found him.

Cullen put the pouch back into its hiding place, replacing the board and shoving the bed back into place. He stood up and stretched, taking note of the time, "Time for a bite," he thought, and picked up his weapons and went downstairs.

An hour later had him in the Lion's back room, listening to Meron's latest raunchy story. The man was a pig when it came to women, Cullen thought. "Only good for one thing," Meron had told him. The man was constantly nagging Cullen about his lack of female companionship, to which Cullen had only smiled and said, "How would you know?" Meron had said he had his ways, and Cullen had no doubt that he did.

And it wasn't that he didn't want to, not by a long shot, he did; and badly at times. He did need a woman, and soon. Templars weren't expected to stay celibate, the Order knew that was impossible and had stopped enforcing the issue long ago. He just didn't need the women he could get right now.

That was one of the reasons for buying the house in Kirkwall, privacy and freedom. If he had been fortunate enough to secure the affections of a lady, the barracks at the Gallows was not the most romantic place for a tryst. So he'd found the house, fixed it up and looked for the right one without much success, when he was spotted.

Knight Commander Meredith had been an efficient and devout member of the Order, a mentor and at times, a friend. She also had an eye for a particular type of man; one she could use on and off duty. Cullen had been one of those men.

It had started harmlessly enough, a compliment here, a touch there; innocent enough between two people who had to work together day after day. Then had come the late nights and off duty time together, an offer made and accepted. For six months they had seen other, day and night. She was patient and a good teacher, he was a good student. He filled a void and she banished the demons. In the end, they had parted on good terms, and he had his promotion. A fair enough trade for the work he'd done.

His conscience had had to adjust when it was over. He'd sold himself for advancement and it didn't matter if it was enjoyable or not. The Gallows battle had sealed it for him there; he hadn't struck the killing blow but he might as well have. He'd seen the signs and failed to stop her. After that he hadn't been interested in women much, it was too painful. But since he had seen Isabeaux and her family, the ache rarely stopped. Another detail to take care of, and soon.

Cullen looked at Meron, "What did you need me for?"

Meron decided they needed drinks and went to the sidebar and poured two, offering one to Cullen, "I have a job for your particular talents; pays big,"

"The target?" he asked.

"A mage. It's a tracking and recovery job, and will require travel. That's why the high fee."

"Tell me more."

Meron sipped the whiskey, "A wealthy and influential man wishes his mage back. She was last seen headed towards the Brecilian Forest, a great place to hide if you ask me. Find her and bring her to the rendezvous point, undamaged, along with anyone with her."

Cullen took a sip, "The fee?"

"Fifty sovereigns, delivered undamaged and alive. Fair enough if you ask me, can you do it?" Meron asked.

"Finding a mage in the Brecilian Forest is not going to be easy, in fact, it will be next to impossible. I'll need as much information as you can give me on her whereabouts, a description and any aliases."

Meron smiled and picked up a sack that was sitting on the table, opened it and pulled out a container and showed it to Cullen. "I think that should help you," he said, tossing it to him.

Cullen neatly caught the container and turned it in his hand, "Is this what I think it is?"

"Should be enough to take care of the job; know how to use it?" Meron asked.

He did indeed know how, but how Meron got it was something he was curious about. No one but a very select group of Templars ever got to handle them. He nodded his answer and examined it closer. There was no doubt; he held a phylactery, the only way to successfully track a mage. The trouble had come.

Brecilian Forest

Three weeks later had him on a path in the forest, looking for his quarry. The phylactery had started glowing dimly the day before, giving him some hope that he was finally on the right path. All he could do now was sweep the area slowly and watch the vial for any changes, a dismally dull task. He started the sweep.

A few hours later, he'd noticed the change, minute but noticeable and began to follow the path. His plan was to pinpoint her location then hire some help and return for her. Even if she took off, he wouldn't have so far to go to find her. He kept going.

The sun was going down and the light in the forest ebbed quickly. He had time so he collected as much wood as he could for the night and made a fire to keep away any creatures. Dinner was easy enough; he'd managed to shoot a duck near a lake earlier, so he dressed and spit it. A few herbs for seasoning and some salt and he had a meal. He ate like it was his last.

Cullen worried about sleeping in the forest without a watch to warn him, but he didn't want to call attention to the fact that he was tracking mages or that he was a former Templar, so he'd come alone. This was the last job so after this he was a retired soldier who'd taken land. The Gallows, Flint Company and mages could all go to blazes, he was a farmer. He leaned back against a tree; his sword in his lap, his shield next to him, built the fire to blazing, and closed his eyes.

They came in slowly, checking for any threat he might pose, circling around and around him. Cullen stirred once and startled them but they soon realized he was not aware and continued closing in. His senses woke him and he slowly opened his eyes to see several pairs of red ones, staring at him from the darkness. He gradually moved his hands to his sword hilt and shield, praying he would have his hands on them before the wolves struck. Luck had run out.

They struck quickly and precisely, two at once, making for his neck and leg. Cullen grabbed his sword and struck one, hearing its yelp as it hit the ground, not moving anymore. The other missed due to his sudden movement and hit the tree behind him. He rolled to his side, coming to his feet, looking around.

There were about six of them total; not the blight wolves he'd heard so much about but dangerous enough. They attacked in pairs in hopes of drawing him out enough to let the others get him down. He struck at one with his sword, holding off another with his shield. They circled him and soon had him cornered, fighting with everything he had. A large male leaped forward and Cullen skewered it with his sword, but was unable to free the weapon for another blow. He drew his dagger and prepared for close in combat.

Sensing he was weakened, the wolves attacked at will, taking turns leaping in and snapping at him, wearing him down little by little. One finally had purchase on his leg, biting through the spaces in the chainmail. The smell of blood only served to increase the intensity of the attack and Cullen knew they would soon have him. He prayed to Andraste to keep him safe and continued to fight until he sank to his knees. The largest of the group sunk his teeth into his side, and Cullen cried out in pain, trying to stab at the wolf with his dagger.

Suddenly the wolf began to glow with an unearthly light and dropped where it stood, dead. The other wolves, alerted to another presence, turned to this new threat and one by one dropped dead on the ground. Cullen, weakened by blood loss, looked up to see a lone warrior approaching, hooded and armored, then there was nothing but darkness.

Singing, he was sure that's what it was; not the Chant but something familiar, he just couldn't place it. He opened his eyes and looked at his surroundings; a small cabin, clean and neat, a comfortable bed, a table, chairs, small trundle bed, so he was not alone. Slowly he rose, finding himself without a stitch of clothing on.

He had no memory of how he got here. There were the wolves he'd fought but he was sure he'd lost that fight. Then there was something or someone else, a dark warrior, hooded against detection.

Cullen saw his clothes draped over the chair near the table, clean and mended, and slowly got up and walked over to get them. He looked down at his lower body and saw the scars from the bites he'd received on his side and leg. They had been real, so this must be too. He dressed quickly, looking for his weapons. "They must be outside;" he thought and went out to greet his savior.

It was a small farmstead, complete with goats, chickens, and a large garden. Flowers decorated the sides of the cabin and were displayed at intervals throughout the farmyard. Someone went to great lengths to keep up appearances here.

A woman was dipping water into a bucket on the shore of the nearby lake. He could hear her singing a lively but pretty tune. She was wearing a loose dress of beige homespun cotton and her hair was tied up in a scarf made of the same material. Cullen's eyes hurt from the sun but he thought he could make out that she was young. He was making his way down the path to the lake, when she saw him and straightened to face him.

She was in her mid-twenties he thought, dark red hair escaping the scarf and her eyes were blue. She looked up at him and smiled, "You're up, I see. Feeling any better?"

Cullen was staring, he knew, but she was so beautiful he couldn't help it. When he realized she had spoken, he blushed a little with embarrassment, "Um…yes…yes I am. Are you the one who saved me?"

The woman smiled, "Yes that was me. I'm afraid conventional weapons aren't my strong suit but I know enough to chase the wolves away. How do you feel? You have been out for a while."

"How long was I out? I'm afraid I've lost track of time," he answered, confused.

"About five days, but you were in and out. Your wounds weren't severe or deep but you did lose quite a bit of blood. That's what the dizziness you feel now is," she told him.

Cullen looked at her and nodded. "Yes, that must…," his eyebrows rose, "How do you know I'm dizzy?"

The girl hesitated before answering as if she was deciding whether to tell him a dark secret or lie. "I'm a mage, a spirit healer. I can sense pain and illness in others and treat it if need be. I suppose I should have told you but until now your condition was not conducive to conversation. I am Arianna, and you are Cullen."

"How did you…?

She laughed, "No magic there; it's written inside your boots along with an address in Kirkwall. Your home, I assume?"

He shook his head, "Not anymore."

"What brought you to the forest then? It's not a place I would recommend traveling alone through," she asked him.

"Hunting," he lied. "Looking for stag."

"Also not something to do alone, but that's your business. Are you hungry? The stew should be done and I have fresh bread and perhaps some…" She was interrupted by the cry of a small child coming from under a nearby tree. Arianna hurried over to the tree, bent down and lifted a sleepy toddler into her arms, planting a kiss on his cheek. "There, there, little man. It's all right, Mama's here."

Cullen was surprised to see the child. He was dark haired, about two years old, and had the same blue eyes as his mother. Cullen smiled at the boy who looked at him through sleepy and very wary eyes. "Your son?" he asked her.

"This is Micah," she answered. "Micah, this is Ser Cullen. Say hello," she coaxed, using Cullen's title. The toddler buried his head in Arianna's neck, making Cullen smile more. "I'm afraid he's not used to visitors," she explained.

Cullen looked around the farm and turned back to Arianna, "You are alone here? Where is the boy's father, if I may ask?"

Arianna shifted Micah to her hip and started walking to the house, "It's just Micah and I. His father is…gone. We have nothing to do with him." Her tone had changed with the last, there was something there but Cullen wouldn't pry yet. She looked at Micah, "Are you hungry, love? I know Ser Cullen is. Let's eat." He followed her into the house.

Lunch was a delicious stew of chicken and vegetables with freshly baked bread and butter. Cullen had never tasted anything so delicious and told Arianna so, making her blush with modesty.

He took time to watch her as they ate. She had removed her kerchief to reveal long, thick dark red hair that shown with gold highlights. Her eyes were bluer than the sky. He had never seen a woman so lovely, and his groin tightened a bit at the mere thought of her, causing him to shift uncomfortably in his chair.

That she was a mage, he had no doubt; he could feel the power emanating from her. Yet she lived here without using much magic; she was hiding, of that he was sure, but from whom or what?

With the meal finished, Cullen took time to look about the farm. It was located on the banks of a small lake and he spied fishing lines set up along the bank. There were a couple of goats tied out in a grassy area and about a dozen chickens wandering around the yard. She had been here for a while then. The cabin was old, the roof was sagging in spots and he was sure it leaked. Perhaps there he could pay for his keep.

He found her working in the herb garden, "I should like to pay you for your kindness and hospitality. I know it couldn't have been easy taking care of me. Perhaps I could help you around the farm."

Arianna looked at him, assessing his capabilities. He was strong, she knew, a warrior trained. He could be of some use. "Very well, the roof of the cabin is in need of repair. Can you do it?"

"I think so. Have you some tools?" Cullen asked.

"In the lean-to, along with some nails," she replied, pointing to the location of the lean-to.

"I'm on it then," he said eagerly, and started to work.

Cullen made short work of the roof, even going so far as to throw a couple of buckets of water on it to test his patches. Satisfied there would be no more problems he climbed down and looked around for Arianna. He spied her working in the garden with Micah playing in the dirt near her and quietly went into the house.

He found his pack lying by the table and checked it over. Five days had been nearly too long without the lyrium. The inside bag was still closed with the same type of knot he used so he knew it was undisturbed; he undid it and counted the bottles left. "Enough for a month, if I'm careful," he thought. He opened one and took a big drink, putting it back when he was done and fastening the knots on the inside compartment.

Looking around again to see if she had spotted him, he left the cabin and headed to the garden. She was hoeing some herbs and looked up as she saw him approach, "How was the roof? Not too hard a job I hope."

Cullen smiled at her, "No, it wasn't too bad. I replaced some rotten boards and put nails in some others to tighten them up. It should hold now."

"I'm so glad. You are so kind to help us. Where did a man like you learn those skills? They aren't ordinary warrior skills are they?" she asked.

"Well, I wasn't always a warrior. I was raised on a farm so I know something about what needs done. There isn't much call for farming skills in the army, that's true." He laughed, "But I always did enjoy it more than swinging a sword. Do you have anything else that needs done?"

Arianna thought for a moment, her brows knitted. Cullen noticed her eyes grew hazy as she contemplated his next work assignment. It made her even lovelier, he thought. "Well, the goats need moved to a different spot and I am missing a couple of chickens. Could you see to that? I should have some other things to do when you finish that."

"Yes, ma'am!" he said, saluting her. Arianna laughed at his mocking and he smiled at her, wishing she would always look at him like that. She turned and went back to her work, humming a little tune that got Micah clapping and laughing. Smiling, Cullen went back to his work.

By evening he was exhausted but not in the way he was accustomed to being. It was a satisfying ache, as if he had accomplished something. He realized he had never been so happy.

Arianna brought the kettle to the table and dished out the stew. Cullen watched her as she did, inhaling her scent when she leaned towards him. She smelled like the garden and herbs, flowers and dirt. He was intoxicated when he was around her, a thought that scared him as he had only just met her and she had no ideas who or what he was. He would have to tell her eventually.

Micah laughed out loud and tossed his spoon at Cullen. "Hey there, little one! That's no way to eat," he chided, picking up the spoon.

"No!" exclaimed Micah, laughing.

Cullen smiled at the boy, "So that's how it is, huh?" He wiped the spoon on a towel and gave it back to Micah, "It's good stew, you don't want to waste it. It's a long time until breakfast."

Micah looked at him, sizing him up, then put the spoon back into the bowl and took a bite, smiling at Cullen as he did. Cullen smiled back, "See, I was right."

"Amazing!" Arianna exclaimed. "I can never get him to cooperate so well. You are a good influence, ser. Do you have children of your own?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't." He answered sadly, "There hasn't been much time to pursue that part of my life."

Arianna smiled, hopefully, "There is still time, I'm sure. Someone out there is waiting for you, I know."

"I hope so," he replied, and took a bite of stew, watching her as she worked.

Over the next couple of weeks, Cullen grew fond of Micah, who came to him as if Cullen were his father. Arianna refused to talk about the boy's real father; it was either too painful for her or she was hiding from him. He wondered who or what had forced her to live as she did, so far from the rest of the world.

One afternoon, as he was hauling water to the house, he heard the boy's crying. He stopped and ran to where Micah was playing to discover the boy had fallen and scraped his arm. Arianna had come running when she heard the wailing to find Micah in Cullen's arms, safe and sound. Together they took him inside to clean him up and heal him. Micah had refused to come to her, choosing to stay in Cullen's arms for his treatment.

Arianna was amazed at how much Micah trusted Cullen. She had never thought to find a man who could be so kind and devoted to her and her son. Her mind said not to trust him, but her heart was telling her to give him a chance. He was handsome and well built, but there was sadness about him that she couldn't place. He had been through a painful ordeal at some time and it had changed him greatly. She wondered what that could have been and imagined herself as the cure to his troubles. "Foolish thoughts," she told herself, but they continued nevertheless.

Their lives were very simple on the farm; they woke at dawn and would eat a quick breakfast. Cullen would pick up his bedroll from his place near the fire and pack it away, while Arianna made her bed and took out the milking buckets. Together they would go milk the goats, listening for Micah's cries when he awoke. These were the times they would talk.

"So you came to Ferelden from Kirkwall?" she asked one morning.

Cullen's head snapped up, he knew the questions would come, but he hadn't formed a good enough lie just yet. "I am originally from Ferelden but had been living in Kirkwall the last several years," he answered.

Arianna nodded, "I thought so, your accent is Ferelden. What did you do there, the army?"

"Yes," he lied, "Guarding city buildings mostly…and their contents."

She laughed, "Sounds terribly boring."

Cullen smiled and laughed with her, "It was terribly boring. I like this life much better."

"Farming? You like farming better than being a soldier?" she asked, stunned he would think so.

"Well, chasing pickpockets and raiding whorehouses has it charms but I'll stick to the simple life, thank you."

Arianna stared at him, wondering if he spoke the truth or whether it was a jest. When he laughed at her confusion she realized he was kidding and laughed with him.

"What about you? You surely weren't born here. What is your story?" he inquired.

Her face suddenly changed, revealing a fear that Cullen had never seen in her. He sensed the question was more than she could handle in many ways and searched for a way to withdraw it quickly, sparing her any pain. Somehow she sensed his distress and deflected herself, "I came from Rivain, the Circle there. I…escaped with my son," she lied.

He wasn't sure she spoke the whole truth but he knew he'd heard part of it. "Your son was born in the Circle?"

"I was pregnant when I escaped. He was born later, here, in Ferelden." True enough that, she thought.

"That must have been hard for you, away from everyone you knew, living on your own," he replied. He knew it would have been, with a child, especially if she were hunted.

"Fortunately there are those who would help runaway mages and they provided the care I needed when my time came. It is a debt I owe that I can never repay," she declared.

Cullen knew about debts that couldn't be repaid, he had a few himself. "Thank you for telling me, I know it was hard." He knew there was more to her story, much more, but he also knew it pained her to speak of it. "So you came here, the forest, to hide. More or less."

Arianna nodded, "It is a good place to get lost if you want to. Wolves, bears, the Dalish, they all keep the unwanted away. I don't bother them so they let me alone. It's a good life, if not a lonely one sometimes." She stood up to stretch, and Cullen watched her, seeing the curves of her body as her dress clung to her. He shifted on the stool a bit, suddenly uncomfortable in his current position. Arianna spoke again, "I…I wanted to tell you how much…I…we have enjoyed your company these past few weeks. You have been a tremendous help to us and I thought you should know it. Thank you."

Cullen rose from his stool and turned to her, "It is I who should thank you. I would be in the belly of a pack of wolves if not for you. I am honored to be the guest of such a beautiful and gracious hostess."

She looked up into his green eyes, puzzled but pleased, "You think I'm beautiful?" she asked softly.

He took a step forward, taking her hand in his, "Yes, you are beautiful," he replied, his voice husky. As he moved closer to her, there was a cry from the house. Arianna jumped suddenly then took a step back, feeling guilty, and ran back into the cabin, leaving Cullen alone with the milking.

He was falling in love with her, he knew. He hoped he wouldn't have to tell her who and what he really was. As a mage, she would have more than enough cause to fear him. It pained him as he knew he could do nothing but hurt her. He was a mercenary, a mage hunter, and she was an apostate. Yet every morning he felt nothing but joy at seeing her face, knowing she was there.

Cullen opened the outside pocket on the ruck sack and pulled out the vial. Instantly it began to glow with a brightness that was nearly blinding. He moved around in a circle, gauging the direction of the source, only to find the source was right outside; Arianna. She was the one he'd been sent to find. His heart sank at the thought as he sat down. She was the woman he loved and he was hunting her. Replacing the vial in the pocket, he set the bag back down where he had found it and hung his head in his hands, he was lost.

"Ser Cullen? Are you all right?" Arianna asked from the doorway.

Cullen stood up quickly and turned to look at her, "Of course, a bit tired perhaps but rest should take care of that," he lied.

Arianna looked at him worriedly with those piercing blue eyes of hers making Cullen want to jump in and swim. He took a step forward, coming to within inches of her. Slowly he put his hand on her cheek and she leaned into him and sighed. He took his other hand and untied her kerchief, letting her hair spill down over her shoulders. "You have the most beautiful hair," he told her softly, "I've wanted to do that for so long."

She stood still as he ran his fingers through her hair, closing her eyes at the exquisite feeling. Her hands slowly came up to his chest and she let her fingers slide over him, exploring. Cullen let out a soft moan and pulled her in, taking her mouth in his, teasing her lips open with his tongue. Arianna opened for him, melting in his arms, letting him taste her. He pulled her in closer, running his hands down her back and encircling her waist, causing her to whimper with need.

"Mama!" they heard Micah call, "Mama! Come!"

Cullen pulled away slowly and rested his head on Arianna's forehead, catching his breath. "I should…" she said reluctantly.

"Yes," he replied, letting her go. She looked up at him then reached up and put her hands on either side of his face, pulling him down into another kiss. She broke quickly and slipped from his embrace, running outside to her son, leaving him wanting more, knowing it was wrong.

That evening found him sitting by the door, mending the handle on a pot. He looked out over the farmyard to the lake and watched her. She walked by the shore, looking out over the water, deep in thought, stopping to hug herself. Their time together earlier in the day had not left his mind; he wanted her more now than ever. Cullen looked down at the pot he was holding, wanting to throw it as far as he could in frustration. He had no easy way out. He dropped the pot and peeked through the door to see if Micah was still asleep. Assured that he was, he walked to the lake, and her.

He stood a few feet away, watching her as she looked out over the water. The moonlight shone on her hair; giving it an ethereal glow. He was fixed in place as if time stood still. Slowly she turned, as if feeling his presence, and stood looking at him. She saw the pain, willing it to disappear until there were only the two of them left.

Cullen went to her, a step at a time, never breaking his gaze. When he reached her, he stood still, looking into her eyes, searching for some sign that she felt as he did, that she wanted him as he wanted her. Arianna reached up and ran her fingers through his hair causing him to shiver and her to smile. He took her face in his hands and slowly brought his face to hers, his eyes never leaving hers. "Arianna…I…" he trailed off, his emotions running wild.

"Yes," she said quietly. His lips touched hers then and everything he felt came to the surface, his childhood, the Tower, Isabeaux, Uldred, and Meredith were all there for her to see. She accepted him and took him in, no questions asked. "Whatever you want," she said.

"Oh, Maker…" he cried as he pulled her into his arms, kissing her and holding her, letting her heal his soul.

The sound of crying brought them back and Arianna made to run to the cabin. "Let me," he said and ran.

Arianna found him standing next to Micah's bed, holding her son in his arms as a father would. Rocking him back and forth, murmuring nonsense into his ear. "He is the one," she thought.

Cullen slowly put the boy back into his bed, stroking Micah's hair until he relaxed back into sleep. He turned to the doorway to find Arianna watching him. She came to him and took his hand, leading him to the bed.

She pulled at his shirt, pulling it out of his breeches and over his head, dropping it on the floor. She turned him around and pushed him down to the bed, slowly removing his boots, then her own shoes. Cullen reached for her and brought her down onto his lap, pulling at the strings on her bodice until they were loose. He pulled the fabric down, baring her shoulders and kissed her skin, causing her to gasp. His mouth followed her neck upwards to her mouth, kissing her deeply.

Arianna's hands pulled at the laces on his breeches, pulling them loose as he yanked at her bodice laces, loosening them more. He pulled the top of her dress down, revealing her breasts, causing her to gasp again. He took them into his hands, kissing them and teasing the tips, making Arianna moan until she could hardly stand it. She reached down and pulled her dress over her head, throwing it aside. Cullen picked her up and laid her on the bed, stopping long enough to remove her small clothes and his.

He lay beside her and took her into his arms feeling the warmth and softness of her skin. His hands ran over her body, exploring the curves and angles while his mouth took hers with a slow deliberate kiss, savoring her taste. Breaking the kiss, he moved over her, gently parting her legs, and looked into her eyes, waiting for some sign that it was right. Arianna reached her arms around him, holding him close, wrapping her legs around his waist. He smiled and entered her slowly, letting them both become accustomed to the feel of each other. She panted and moaned into his ear, causing him to push further and further until he was seated. When her hips began to buck against him as the desire grew, he met her with his strokes, faster and faster until she cried out with her release, caressing him and stroking him as he continued to move in and out. As his own climax began, he felt hers peak once more, even more intense, as they rode the waves of pleasure until they finally collapsed, spent.

Cullen rolled to her side and pulled her into his arms, kissing her as she slowly returned to herself. He pulled the blanket over them and slept in her arms, secure and home for the first time in his life.

Sometime in the night she awakened, using her hands, making him hard for her. She climbed on top and took him inside, as he gasped and moaned. Moving up and down she brought him to climax again as she rode him, relishing the feel of him inside. He sat up, holding her in his lap, his mouth joining with hers as they reached the peak and fell off its edge into ecstasy. He lifted her up and laid her down next to him, holding her close, brushing the hair from her face. "I love you," he whispered, "Maker help me, you are too good for me, but I do love you."

Arianna knew everything about them was wrong; she wasn't good enough for him, but she couldn't hold back her feelings, "I love you too, so the Maker had better help us both."

Cullen smiled and kissed her, promising, "I will never leave you."

Morning came too soon for them. He was awakened by the sounds of the animals, restlessly waiting for attention. Cullen snuggled down in the bed, pulling Arianna closer, willing time to stop. He brushed her hair from her face and kissed her, lightly, slowly waking her. Arianna returned his kiss as he pulled her closer, deepening it until they were both panting with need. Rolling her to her back, he entered her, letting the rhythm take him, reaching his hands around her and pulling her hips up toward him, allowing him to plunge deeper than he had ever gone. Arianna cried out her joy as he continued, over and over, until he couldn't hold back, releasing into her, crying her name over and over as if it were a prayer.

They collapsed into each other's arms, and he fell asleep instantly. Arianna sat up on one elbow and looked down at him as he dozed. She ran her finger along his brow, tracing a line down his cheek and jaw and to his lips, tracing their outline. "You do not make it easy to sleep, do you love?" he asked, teasing her.

"It seems that neither of us does. I would that I could never leave this bed and you, but I fear I must soon," she replied, smiling.

Cullen opened his eyes and sat up, taking her into his arms, "I would stay here forever with you too. But you are right, there are things to do. The day will not end quickly enough for me. I would be back here again tonight with you. He kissed her possessively to punctuate his words. Then reluctantly, he rose, put on his breeches and boots, and turned and kissed her again before donning his shirt to begin the milking. Cullen stopped at the door to look at her as she sat on the bed, her hair disheveled, her eyes sleepy, looking like the well-loved woman she was, "I love you," he told her as she smiled up at him, "Always." Arianna smiled and nodded, "Yes, always," she answered as he left to tend the farm.

He had never worked so fast in his life as he did that day. Chickens, goats, the garden, all fed, milked and weeded. When Arianna put Micah down for his nap, Cullen had been there, putting her to bed for a "nap" and loving her as much as he could before the child awoke. When Micah did wake, Cullen brought the boy to Arianna, then dressed and went out to finish the day's work, working fast again to keep time moving, anticipating the night when he would have her again. He had never been happier.

The days continued this way for them as weeks passed. Cullen and Arianna worked her little farm, took care of Micah, and loved each other all night. In the back of his mind he knew he had to tell her the truth, that he was sent to find her and bring her back for the bounty, but he couldn't, not now. He had decided to go back to Meron and tell him he couldn't find her, get his money and leave Denerim for good, returning to Arianna.

One afternoon, as they lay in each other's arms, she told him why she was there. "I lied to you. I didn't run away from the Circle in Rivain. I…have never been in the Circle. My master taught me what I know of magic; he is a magister in Tevinter."

Cullen sat up in bed, turning to look at her. "You were a slave?" he asked, confused.

"Yes, but there was more to it than that," she continued. "I was hand-picked by him when I was a child because I was a mage. I was one of several 'girls' who took care of his every need and desire." Arianna wiped the tears from her eyes then. "He didn't just want us for the pleasure we could give him. He wanted a son and we were the ones who would give it to him. I am the only one who did."

"So this magister is Micah's father," he replied, rage building inside him. He had heard of such practices while in the Order, but he had thought them myths or past history. "He will want Micah back then," he said.

"Yes. When I realized that he planned to take my son from me and cast me out, I couldn't let him, so I devised a plan of escape. It got me this far. I…I should have told you sooner. Being with me puts you in danger too."

Cullen wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. "I am not afraid of him, but I am afraid for you. He may still find you."

"It has been two years and I have seen no sign of him. Perhaps one of the other girls has given him what he wants. I can only hope that is the case and pray for their safety too. When Theodetus casts you out, you are never heard from again. It is believed he uses those cast out for his blood magic rituals," she pulled him closer as she said the last.

"Theodetus will not get past me to get to you. I swear, my love," he told her, looking into her eyes, "Never." Arianna nodded and rested her head on his chest as Cullen held her tight.

"We are out of meat," she announced at dinner a few days later, "The fish will help some but we will soon need more than that. I suppose it is time to go hunting."

"You hunt?" Cullen asked, incredulous.

"Yes, but I do not know if you would approve of my methods. They are…unorthodox to say the least and require magic. I have hesitated to go because I fear I draw attention to myself in such a way," she explained.

Cullen had to agree with her on that. Anyone with just a little Templar training could sense her when she used her power and zero in on her. He had located more than one mage in the same way himself. "I'll go out tomorrow morning. I saw some deer yesterday headed north into the forest. Perhaps I can find their trail and bring one home."

"Ooooo…Venison would be wonderful. I would have settled for a squirrel," she replied, "I just wish you didn't have to leave to get one."

He pulled her into an embrace, "Me either, love. I'll only be gone a few hours, I promise. When I get back you can show me how much you missed me, mmmm?"

"Indeed I shall, ser. You may count on that," Arianna answered coyly. "And you can show me."

"I'll show you now," he said hungrily, pulling her into the cabin.

He awoke the next day before light, slowly getting out of bed so as not to disturb Arianna. She stirred a little and turned into his space, soaking up the extra warmth. Cullen smiled, brushing her hair back and kissing her forehead. He had loved her well last night and she would need the sleep.

He donned his chainmail, noticing the rust that had accumulated in the weeks he had been here. Cullen laughed to himself, realizing he didn't care if the mail rusted or his sword became dull. Arianna's story brought him back from his reverie though; she would need a strong warrior to protect her if the magister came after her. He would polish and sharpen his weapons when he returned. He picked up his sword and shield, strapping them to his back and picked up his bow and quiver. Giving Arianna one last kiss and checking on Micah, he left for the hunt.

It took hours to locate the deer, but he had, managing to kill a large doe on the first shot. He gutted and dressed the carcass, then cut some tree limbs and tied them together to form a sled of sorts. He tied the deer to the sled and began to drag it back to the cabin. It was a long slow process that tired him quickly but he pressed on, eager for home and Arianna.

As he approached the cabin it was near sunset, he called out to her to let her know he had returned and to get her help bringing the deer inside, but there was no answer. He yelled louder this time, looking for any sign that she was here but there was no answer.

Cullen ran towards the cabin and knew she was gone. The cabin door was askew on its hinges, as if it had been kicked in. He tore the door the rest of the way off the frame and entered. Signs of a struggle were everywhere; someone had taken her and Micah. They had obviously been watched for a time, and when he had left this morning, they had moved in to take her. There was only one person who would be that patient for a prize such as she; Meron.

Cullen walked over to the bed and pulled his pack out from under it, overlooked while the mercenaries searched for valuables. He opened it and took out the sack with his lyrium supply. He had nearly weaned himself off it; he counted the bottles, ten left. He opened a bottle and drank it down, then stuffed the bag back into the pack and opened the outside pocket. The phylactery was still there, glowing brightly but more dimly. "Not too far away," he thought, "Should be easy to find." Quickly he rearranged the contents of the pack, removing what he didn't need and filling it with as much food and water as he could carry. He sealed the pack, slung it over his shoulder and left the cabin. It was time to hunt again.

He moved fast through the woods, continually checking his direction. Arianna's phylactery glowed brighter the closer he got to her, which only served to make him travel quicker. By dawn, he'd reached her.

About a half dozen men, he counted, plus Meron. "Good," he thought, satisfied, "Let's end it now." Cullen dropped his pack in some bushes and slowly crept forward, watching for Arianna. He spied her, tied to a tree on the opposite side of the camp. She appeared unharmed so he crept back to his pack, slung it over his shoulder and waited. He needed more information before he took her. He had to know where they were headed.

An hour later, they had packed up and were moving out, Cullen following from a safe distance. Arianna's hands were tied together to prevent her from using magic and Meron was leading her on a rope like a dog. Occasionally, he would turn and whisper to Arianna, causing her to become more frightened, making him laugh. Cullen's eyes narrowed and his rage grew as he watched how his former employer treated the woman he loved.

He looked around for Micah, but couldn't locate him. He prayed to the Maker that the boy was safe then began to follow the mercenary group as they made their way out of the forest. Cullen circled around them, moving ahead to find just the right place for an ambush. He found a spot where the trail narrowed as it wound around a cliff overlooking a small river. Cullen climbed to a ledge above the trail and saw he had a good sight for his bow. Climbing down, he hid his sword and shield in some bushes next to the trail, then climbed up to the ledge and waited for the party to arrive.

The mercenaries were cautious as they followed the path but seemed to find no reason to alter their direction. As they turned the first curve in the road, Cullen struck; quickly taking out two men at the front and two at the back with his bow. He jumped off the ledge onto the fifth man, slitting his throat with his dagger. Cullen quickly cut Arianna's bonds, telling her, "Run!" She dashed into the bushes, leaving him with the sixth man and Meron.

"So, that's how it is, Cullen," Meron said, vehemently, "The Templar is in love with a mage. How disappointed the Grand Cleric must be."

"All I want is the girl, Bram. I can pay you the bounty myself; just let her go," Cullen told him.

Meron shook his head, "Oh, I couldn't do that. Do you know what a prize like her would fetch on the open market? I can live like a king! No, you'll have to take her, if you have the guts."

Cullen wasted no time. He threw his dagger at the sixth mercenary, catching him in the chest. As Meron turned to watch the man fall, Cullen made for his sword and shield and turned back to Meron, combat ready. Meron drew his sword as Cullen charged him, nearly losing his grip on the hilt. Cullen raised his own sword to strike but instead struck out with his shield, knocking Meron off balance enough for Cullen to strike at him, slashing at Meron's side. The wound angered Meron more and he raised his own sword up for a blow and bringing it down fast, caused Cullen to step back to avoid being hit. The ground where he stood was soft and collapsed; he slid off the edge, grabbing onto a rock, losing his sword and shield in the process.

Meron saw he had him and stepped to the edge to raise his sword for the final blow when he was suddenly engulfed in flames. Screaming, Meron turned around to see Arianna standing behind him, the full force of her magic upon her. She lobbed fireball after fireball at him until he screamed no more. When she knew he was dead, she threw a stone fist at him, and he flew off the cliff into the river below.

Arianna's body sank to near exhaustion from her efforts, but she recovered enough to run to Cullen, pulling at him until he was up, then throwing her arms around him, crying in her relief that he lived.

Cullen checked her for wounds, "You are…okay? They didn't…," his voice trailed off, he'd lost the words in his relief that she was unharmed and held her close.

Arianna shook her head, "No, Meron wouldn't permit it. He insisted I be 'undamaged.'" She began to cry hysterically, "He took Micah from me! He's got him! I must get him back!"

"Where did they go? Who has him?" asked Cullen, looking around for the boy.

Arianna took hold of herself, "Theodetus took him last night at the old Dalish camp. I have to go get him!" She began searching the bodies, picking up a dagger, bow and small sword.

As she began to walk away in the direction they had come, Cullen stopped her, "Arianna, you can't do this. Let me find Micah. I am…better able to track him, as I tracked you," he explained.

Arianna whirled around to face him, anger in her eyes, "Because you are a Templar sent to track me and bring me in?" she spat at him, "For the reward?"

Cullen knew there was no winning this argument, "Yes. I was contracted to locate an apostate mage and bring her in for the bounty. Enough money for me to buy the land I want to start a new life away from the Chantry. It was a means to an end for me, nothing more."

"That is supposed to make all of this right?" she asked angrily, "It is supposed to make up for me losing my son and becoming a slave again?" She slapped at his arms as they reached for her, turning away.

Cullen knew he'd lost her then, "No, it isn't." He dropped his hands to his sides, resigned.

Tears formed in her eyes, "So everything that passed between us is a lie?"

He reached out and turned her towards him, cupping her chin and pulling her head up to meet his eyes, "Not everything," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of his body next to hers, of him entering her, of the ecstasy she felt when she was with him. It wasn't all a lie, it couldn't be. She opened her eyes and spoke, "Find him." Cullen nodded and picked up his bow, found a sword and a shield, and his pack, then headed back down the path, Arianna following.

On the Road to Gwaren

They moved swiftly through the forest, neither speaking unless the situation called for it, lost in their own thoughts as they traveled. Cullen found the Dalish camp unoccupied but picked up the trail, discerning the direction Theodetus was taking. He was headed south, towards Gwaren and a ship, he told Arianna. The revelation caused them to move even faster.

He'd drunk two bottles of the lyrium so far; his power was up but he knew it wasn't enough to battle a powerful magister like Theodetus. He would have to down more; he reached into the pack and pulled out a third bottle, downing it quickly, tossing the empty aside.

Arianna watched him as he downed the potion, "You had weaned yourself?" she asked.

Cullen nodded, "It was necessary, I didn't have enough with me."

"Will you have enough to fight Theodetus?"

"I don't know," was his answer. He didn't know, too much too quickly could be harmful. Putting as much space between doses was the only way, he prayed he'd allowed enough time between or he'd be in for one hell of a comedown.

She nodded. He was risking his own health to protect her and recover her son. It was a small consolation to know he was suffering for her, but what if he wasn't strong enough to battle Theodetus? All she could do was follow him.

By dawn the next day they had found him. Theodetus was traveling with only four companions, none of whom were mages. Cullen thanked the Maker for the luck. The group had camped beside a small stream for the night before entering the passage to Gwaren. Arianna looked frantically for Micah, finally spotting him sitting on a blanket outside a tent, playing with a toy. She nearly cried out with relief until Cullen clapped his hand over her mouth and drew her close, whispering, "Shhhh, we mustn't let him know we are here." She nodded and he released her but she remained close to him.

"What can we do?" she asked.

"Is he capable of detecting us?" Cullen asked.

Arianna shrugged, "I don't know, but I wouldn't put it past his abilities."

"Then we'll have to use stealth. Take them out one by one." He looked at her, "Can you do what I say? You must be the one to draw them out."

"Yes, what should do?" she asked.

Cullen admired her courage. "Let your hair down," he told her, smiling.

Arianna waited in the bushes close to camp; she had seen the men coming and going from this spot to relieve themselves. Soon one the guards walked over to her position and stepped into the bushes. Arianna stepped in front of him, beckoning him to follow, "Shall we? It will be most fun," she told him seductively, slowly stepping back into the bushes.

The guard followed her, falling for her ruse only to find Cullen at his back and a knife slicing his throat. "That's one," he said. "Do you remember the rest?"

"Yes," she answered as she tied up her hair. "The other side next,"

Cullen nodded and smiled slightly, placing his hand on her shoulder, "You will do fine," he told her.

Arianna nodded and darted into the woods, working around the camp slowly until she came to the other side. The guard on that side had his back to her. She reached down and grabbed a small rock and threw it at him, using some magic to improve her accuracy. The guard spun around and turned only to have an arrow pierce him through the eye. He fell forward into the bushes next to Arianna, who dragged him farther in to hide him. She looked up at Cullen, who had hidden in a tree above her and put up two fingers. He smiled and swung down.

Cullen reached into his rucksack and pulled out another bottle of lyrium, his last one. Drinking it off, he tossed the empty aside, and turned to Arianna, who watched him worriedly. "How many do you have left?" she asked, concerned.

"This is it," he said, "Maker only knows if it's enough. Now for Theodetus. Any ideas?"

Arianna's eyes narrowed, "Follow my lead." She stepped out into the clearing in plain sight and started to walk towards the tent and Micah.

"Arianna! No!" Cullen hissed.

She continued to walk towards the tent when Theodetus saw her and came forward to meet her. "Ah! My darling Arianna has returned to me. How wonderful! I have missed our time together."

"I want my son, Theo. Please!" she pleaded.

"You forget my pet, he is my son too. We so enjoyed making him, did we not?" he purred.

Arianna shook her head, "No more tricks, Theo. Micah belongs with me, not living in that blood bath you call home."

Theodetus laughed, "So harsh, pet. It was your home once too."

Arianna took matters into her own hands then, dashing to Micah's side, picking him up and pulling her dagger out of its sheath. Quickly casting a sleeping spell on the child, she held the knife to his throat, desperately saying, "I won't let you have him! He goes with me or to the Maker. You decide."

The magister held up his hands in a pretend gesture of peace, but Arianna sensed the power building within him and began to gather her own. She closed her eyes as it built, sensing the remaining guards closing in on her.

Suddenly one of the guards fell to the ground, an arrow through his chest, followed by the second in much the same way. Cullen stepped out of the trees, dropping his bow to the ground and drawing his sword, and began to walk towards her.

Theodetus knew a trap when he saw one, raising his hands above his head, he formed a fireball and began to throw it towards Cullen, who raised his hand and cast Holy Smite at the mage, using all the power he had. Theodetus stumbled back, temporarily stunned. Arianna made for the bushes with Micah and disappeared, leaving Cullen to deal with Theodetus.

Cullen moved in quickly, knocking the mage down and striking out at him with his sword. Theodetus also recovered quickly, throwing Cullen back with a shield spell. Cullen struck back by cleansing the area of magic and using smite again, followed by another shield bash. Theodetus, weakened but still powerful, rose to his feet, lashing out with all his available power, throwing Cullen back and knocking the wind out of him.

Theodetus advanced on him, building for another strike, "So my pretty pet has found a champion; and a Templar too. My, my, such progressive morals they teach in the Chantry now. Too bad for you that you won't be able to collect on me. I shall enjoy this immensely then I will go deal with my runaway slave." He raised his hands above his head and called his power to him for the last strike.

A bright flash appeared, and the magister began to glow and burn. Theodetus collapsed to the ground next to Cullen, who rolled to the side quickly to avoid his fall. Slowly he came to his feet, searching for the source of the attack.

Arianna stood a few feet away, her hands still raised as if to attack. Blood dripped from her wrists and she dropped to the ground, lying still before him. Cullen ran to her side, yanking off his shirt and tearing it into strips to wrap around her wrists to stop the bleeding. He held her close, calling her name, brushing the loose strands of hair from her face. Gradually she came around, opening her eyes and looking up at him, "You…what did you do?" he asked her, unbelieving.

She swallowed and sat up, "I learned more from him than he knew. He was…a good teacher." She closed her eyes and concentrated, and a greenish glow surrounded her. When it dissipated, she peeled off the strips from her wrists and he saw they were healed. "Micah!" she exclaimed and ran to the bushes, emerging a moment later with the sleepy toddler in her arms.

Cullen examined the boy and found he was fine, just sleeping. "Best let him sleep for now," he told her, "We should get out of here." Arianna nodded and they began the trip back to the forest and home.

Brecilian Forest

Neither of them spoke much on the journey back to the farm. Arianna could not find any words to express her feelings. She was relieved he had come for her and Micah, but his lies were canceling the good out. He was a stranger to her now.

For his part, Cullen also felt the relief in seeing Arianna and Micah safe. He had done what he had promised, what he had to do. There was nothing he wanted more than to take them in his arms and hold them, knowing they were safe at last, but there were issues between them that needed to be addressed and not the least among them was her use of blood magic to save him.

They camped by a stream as soon as they were sure they had put as much distance as they could between them and Theodetus' camp. Silently they gathered wood and started a fire; Cullen skinned and prepared the squirrels he had killed during the day, spitting them for cooking, watching Micah as he slept on a blanket nearby. Arianna foraged in the area for roots and herbs, returning with wild potatoes and some apples to add to the meal.

The meal over, Cullen sat staring into the fire as Arianna sat rocking Micah, humming a quiet tune. When she was satisfied the boy was sound asleep again, she put him down on the blanket and returned to her place at the fire. The silence became unbearable and he finally spoke, "The boy is well?" he asked.

"Yes. It seems so," she answered tentatively.

Cullen nodded his approval, searching for another topic, "I am glad," he replied, and then he finally blurted out what was on his mind, "You used blood magic to save me."

Arianna raised her head and met his gaze, "Yes, I did," she admitted.

"Why?" he asked her, the anguish overwhelming him, "You know what I am…was. Did you not care that I might be forced to deal with you as well?"

"I sought to free my son and me; you are a means to end for me as well. To protect myself and Micah, I have to have you, that is why you are alive."

Cullen looked back at the fire, suddenly realizing what his lies to her had done. She was lost to him now. There was no reason to hide anything. "I was sent to the Chantry when I was a boy and was raised to be a knight and a Templar. I served the Order until a year ago, when I resigned my commission in Kirkwall and came home to Ferelden," he paused then, allowing her to absorb what he had said, "When I was posted at the Circle here in Ferelden, one of the mages resorted to blood magic and with others, took over the tower. Most of my fellow Templars were tortured or killed and I was held prisoner and tortured for days and days. When the Hero of Ferelden freed those of us who survived, I was sent to Kirkwall. I swore I would never allow a blood mage to live after all I had seen and endured. What am I to do now?" he asked her, not hiding the pain he felt.

Arianna was silent, unsure what to say or do. Finally she spoke, "You must do what you feel is right," she told him, "But know this, Cullen, I am not a blood mage. It was the only way to save you. If Theodetus had killed you, I would not have been able to prevent him from taking Micah. You had to live for me and for my son."

He nodded his understanding and went silent. When Arianna lay down with Micah to sleep, he sat, staring at the fire, pondering what she had said. Everything he had been taught and lived contradicted what she had said. Cullen had no reply to her statement of before, but he still knew one thing was sure, he loved her and losing her was something he could never live with.

In the morning, they broke camp and continued the trip home, arriving there in the late afternoon. Cullen had taken the precaution of freeing the goats before he left so they could forage for their own food. They were still nearby and bleated their welcome when they saw the little party approaching. He disposed of the deer carcass he'd brought home days earlier and rehung the door to the cabin. He cleaned two rabbits he'd shot earlier in the day for Arianna to cook and had made sure all was well and sound in the cabin and the rest of the farm.

When Cullen had finished he went to the door of the cabin and spoke, "I must leave you. I have to return to Denerim to take care of matters relating to the Flint Company. I must make sure no one else comes for you."

Arianna's face fell as he spoke, "We will be here for you if you want to return. I will understand if you don't but I ask that you do," she said quietly.

Cullen took a short step towards her wanting to take her into his arms as he had so many times before. Instead he nodded and left her standing in the doorway, tears in her eyes, not knowing if she would ever see him again.

Denerim

The journey to Denerim had taken longer than before; every step was a reminder of his failure with Arianna. She haunted his dreams at night and his thoughts during the day. He could find no way out of his trouble. He entered the gates of the city and headed first to the Lion where he asked the pub keeper for Meron. No one had seen him or his men for weeks, he was told. Cullen thanked the man for his information and left the pub. One problem was at least temporarily solved.

His next stop was Ethan's stall where he was able to procure some lyrium, enough to last him a few weeks. Ethan had no information on Meron either. "He just up and took off one day with all his men. Hasn't come back. No great loss to me, that's for sure."

Cullen managed a smile at the elf's words, and thanked him for his trouble before heading to the Merchant's Haven for rest and food.

Hans, the owner, was at the bar and greeted him warmly, sending him some stew, fresh bread, and ale. "I kept your room as you wished, ser; everything should be where you left it." Cullen thanked the man and sat down to eat.

Once finished he went upstairs to his room and pulled out the bed. Sitting down, he used his dagger and pulled out the loose board. The money was still there and he poured it out on the bed to look at it. The tears flowed then; he had lost the motivation to complete his plan. Angrily he swept the coins off the bed and listened to the clink when they hit the opposite wall. He lay down on the bed with his arm over his eyes. What was he to do now?

After a while, he didn't know how long, he heard the door softly open and a pair of light boots walked into his room. He heard the door as it was quietly shut. He opened his eyes and swung his feet to the floor and looked up at his visitor.

She had the same dark, brownish red hair as he remembered, knotted up in the same bun she had always preferred, with wisps hanging down in front. The dark green eyes were unchanged but there were lines around those eyes that had not been there before; lines of worry and care. Yet despite all that, she was still the same girl he had loved all those years ago in the tower.

"I thought they would have taught you Templars to be more careful with your money. It's not as if it grows on trees is it?" she asked, mischief in her eyes.

"Isabeaux?" he asked, unbelieving.

"Yes, Cullen, it's me," she replied, smiling that smile he always remembered.

"I…can't….why?" he stuttered.

Isabeaux pulled out the chair and sat down, facing him. "I saw you that day at the palace."

Cullen lowered his head, not wanted to meet her eyes, "I wasn't spying on you. I had just come from the Chantry and took a more scenic route home when I saw you step out of the Warden's compound…with your family," he added. "Your youngest…you…" he trailed off then, not knowing what to say.

"Named him after you. Yes, I did. It was Alistair's idea, actually. He knows how much we meant to each other and thought it might honor the memory of a brave man who sacrificed so much for those he loved. I thought so too."

"I didn't know what to say then and I don't now. I can't believe you would do that. I…thank you," he said.

"You are most welcome. Actually he is a lot like you in many ways, all good," she smiled again, "I had the innkeeper keep an eye out for you with orders to send for me when you returned. I wanted to see you."

"There's not much to see now," he said sadly," I seemed to have made a mess of my life, again."

"Oh, I doubt that," she answered, "But perhaps you'd like someone to tell it to. I came to invite you to dinner at our quarters at the palace. Please say yes."

"The palace? I thought you lived at the Warden compound."

"We did at first but our status forced us to move into the palace. Too many people wanting to see the 'Hero,' she explained. "Alistair's status as prince entitled it anyway even if he isn't an official heir anymore."

"When would you like me to come?" he asked.

"We thought tomorrow evening. Just come to the Warden's gate at five and we'll be there." She rose to leave, turning around before she opened the door to face him. "It is so good to see you again, Cullen. I thought I never would," she said, her voice cracking with emotion, "Not after what happened between us."

"You are as beautiful as ever, Isabeaux. I have never forgotten you. I…."

She walked to where he stood, putting her hand on his cheek as she used to so many years ago. "You can tell me about it tomorrow. We will find a way, I promise," then she kissed his cheek and was gone, leaving him alone.

The next evening found Cullen standing outside the gate to the Warden compound contemplating whether to go in or not. Isabeaux's last words to him the day before had haunted him. "We will find a way, I promise," she had said. What did she know?

His mind made up, he walked up to the huge doors only to have them swing open in front of him. Standing there was Alistair, looking just as Cullen had remembered, with the blond hair and twinkling blue eyes. "And here I thought I was going to have to drink all that good ale by myself. Welcome!" he held out his hand to Cullen, who took it gratefully. "Now let's to dinner before she finds some new magical way to whisk us there, shall we?" he said, laughing, allowing Cullen to enter before him.

They walked through the Warden grounds and across the castle grounds following a path that led to a side door to the palace proper. Alistair opened the door, allowing Cullen to enter first, then followed. He found himself in a large hallway and followed his host to a door just down from the entrance. The door opened before they got there to reveal Isabeaux, holding the younger Cullen. He looked at Alistair, "How did she…?" he asked, baffled.

"Oh that. It's a Warden thing," he answered, gesturing for Cullen to enter. He stopped long enough to get a kiss from his wife who then gave Cullen one on his cheek in greeting.

"Please come in, Cullen. Dinner is ready. Have a seat. Alistair, get him a drink, he looks as if he might need one." She followed them into the dining room and Alistair signaled him to sit down.

Dinner was served immediately by two young elven servants who withdrew as fast as they arrived. They talked of many things, the Blight, the Wardens, Queen Anora's latest edicts, even the weather. After dinner they retired to the garden where Alistair played ball with the boys.

Isabeaux and Cullen walked around the garden until they came to a bench that was just out of sight of the others. "All right, what is the problem?" she asked him.

"How did you know there was a problem? Can you sense it like you can Alistair?" he asked, incredulous.

She laughed at that. "I can't really 'sense' Alistair, not like he thinks I can. I can sense the taint in him from the Joining. After a fashion it's possible to also sense some emotions but it's not blood magic, Cullen. I'd never do that to him."

"But you have used it before, haven't you? On him or for him?"

Isabeaux looked down, clearly ashamed at what she was about to say, "Yes. He was so ill once that I used a blood magic spell to heal him," she paused a moment, remembering that night, "Please don't tell him you know. He thinks it's buried and gone. But if I had to use it again, I would, to save him."

Cullen told her about Arianna and what had happened between them. "She is the one, Isabeaux; I love her. I just can't get past what she did. Just like I couldn't with you."

"What do you think of me now?" she asked.

He thought about what she had been and what she was now. Before she had been an apprentice mage, cloistered and protected in the Circle, now she was a Grey Warden, a military commander. What would Arianna become?

Isabeaux watched him as he thought about what she had asked. Clearly he was in love with the girl. She was happy for him and wanted him to be happy; she knew no one who deserved happiness more, he had had so little of it. "You say she only used it the one time, and just to save you? Of all the blood mages I have known, and I have known more than I care to, I have found that they rarely use it just the once. If she never used it before and doesn't now, perhaps she did use it just to save you. I have heard of this Theodetus, he was a powerful magister, defeating him would call for the use of blood magic or some power just as strong."

"In all the time I've known her she never even used her power except to heal. Even in battle she prefers swords and a bow. Do you really think she could be the exception not the rule?" he asked.

She laughed softly at him, "You know, there might just be more than one of us out there."

Cullen smiled at her jest, but she was correct. "So if that is right, then how can I get her back? She will hate me for leaving her even though she asked me to stay."

"You consider her farm your home? Remember the saying; 'Home is a place where they have to take you in.' She'll be glad, I would be." Isabeaux laid her hand on top of Cullen's and squeezed.

He smiled at that, knowing she was right; she always was. "Then I suppose I have a journey to make. It's time to go home."

"Good. I'm glad you see the sense," she replied. After a few moments of thought she asked, "Cullen, do ever think about our time in the tower?"

He turned to look at her, so much like that girl he loved and yet so very different, "Yes. Not like you would think. I found that I missed your counsel more, your wit and humor. My life has always been so dull; you made it exciting just by being in it."

Isabeaux laughed that laugh he loved so much, "I missed your pious attitude the most, I think."

"My what?" he asked, surprised.

"You were always so faithful and pious. I'm not. You helped keep me on the straight and narrow. You made me think about the consequences of my actions and about others and their plight." She added, "It has made me a better Grey Warden."

Cullen put his hand on top of hers and held it tight. He looked out over the garden and watched Alistair and the boys play. He thought of Micah and how much he missed him. "I suppose I should take my leave."

"Before you go, I have something for you." She reached into the neck of her dress and pulled out a necklace with an amulet attached. She removed it and placed it into his hand. "I think you might want this."

He looked down and saw his mother's amulet. The only thing he had left of her. It wasn't really an amulet but a ring he had had reworked into the necklace. He turned it over, and then looked at Isabeaux and said "The initials, they're gone."

Isabeaux looked at the necklace in his hand, "I had them removed. It's frowned upon to wear jewelry from one lover while married to another. I thought you would want to give it to Arianna. It should be hers now."

"I will. Thank you for keeping it so long. I felt sure it was lost forever; that you threw it away," he stopped talking, emotion taking hold.

"Never," she said, "I did promise, remember? Always."

"You did and so did I. Always," he replied, smiling at her remembrance. "I should go,"

Isabeaux nodded and he put out his hand to help her up, then impulsively took her in his arms, holding her close. "It will be okay. I know it will," she whispered. He nodded and let her go. Together they walked back to her apartments, arm in arm. Alistair was there to greet them, having sent the boys off with their nurse.

"So, everything all worked out, love?" he asked.

"Everything, my love," she replied. Cullen took his leave and walked to the door. Alistair followed him to show him the way in the dark.

"She seems to be very happy, "Cullen declared.

"I try," Alistair replied. "Can't say I always succeed though."

"You are. I am glad she found you."

"And I am glad she found you. I owe you a lot, surprising as it may seem," Alistair admitted. "What she knows of love, she learned from you. I got to be the benefactor, and you had all the pain. I am sorry for that."

"Thank you. She picked the right man, I have never doubted that. Thank you for an enjoyable evening," he told him, offering his hand.

"Good night Cullen. Maker watch over you," Alistair said, shaking Cullen's hand.

"And you, Alistair."

Brecilian Forest

Two days later, Cullen set out on what he hoped was his final journey. He had spent the previous day in preparation, shopping and paying visits to friends. He had checked at the Lion for Meron again. No one had word of him, but there was a rumor that Flint Company had pulled out of Ferelden to concentrate their strength in the Free Marches. The information was worrying to Cullen but not unexpected. There would be much work for them there. He sent a silent prayer up for his friends at the Gallows and the city.

Ethan had managed to find him an additional month's supply of lyrium which he would not take coin for. "You have been a good friend to me, ser. I do not want you to go without," he had said. Cullen smiled and thanked him for the gift. Ethan then presented him with a scroll, aged and weathered, "The cure," he said, "Use it well." Cullen had no words for the magnificent gift, so he smiled and shook the elf's hand. "Let me know if there is anything you need, ser. I owe you a debt that I can never repay," Ethan told him. Cullen thanked him again and took his leave.

Hans at the Merchant's Haven wished him good fortune as he left and Cullen made sure the man was well compensated for his efforts. The room was comfortable and safe, as was advertised and no one had entered while he was gone. They shook hands and Cullen left, one last stop to make.

He hadn't checked the Chantry at all since his return to the city. The desire wasn't there now, but he needed to find some hope past what Isabeaux and Alistair had given him. He attended the service, reciting the Chant with the other members of the congregation, but instead of just reciting it, this time he listened to the words.

The one who repents, who has faith,
Unshaken by the darkness of the world,
She shall know true peace.

Cullen repented of many things that day, the tower, Uldred, Meredith, Isabeaux and especially Arianna. They had all had a hand in his making and deserved some acknowledgement whether for good or bad. As he left the sanctuary, he stopped at the small altar in the back and lit a single candle for them all, praying that they find the peace he now had.

The Chantry sister at the door had a letter for him from Bann Sirus. The land was available and could be purchased for one hundred fifty sovereigns. He smiled and thanked the Maker for this small gift; he had a hundred seventy one left, more than enough to purchase it. The rest would enable him to buy some stock and plant crops. All he needed was Arianna.

The journey from Denerim took no time at all and he found himself winding through the paths and trees to the little farm. He had kept the phylactery with him, and used it now to make sure she was here. It had begun to glow brightly as soon as he entered the forest and he smiled; she was still there. He doubled his pace.

On the fourth day, he reached the farm. It was just as he remembered; goats tethered in the grass, chickens wandering about, flowers all around, and the little garden smelling of herbs. He took a deep breath, taking in all the scents of the area. "It was good to be home," he thought.

She was sitting outside the cabin, shelling peas when she looked up unexpectedly. He stood a few feet away, so silent, watching her. The bowl fell from her lap as she rose, her hands trembling. He had returned, but why?

"Cullen?" she asked, unbelieving.

"Yes, Arianna. It's not a dream," and he smiled at her, his hazel eyes bright.

"I…thought you'd never come back. That…that I'd lost you!" She sank to the ground in tears, all the pain and longing she had felt during his absence overwhelming her. Cullen dropped his packs and ran to her, gathering her up in his arms.

"I am a fool, Arianna, please forgive me! I will never leave you again," he told her, holding her close and stroking her hair. She nodded, the tears streaming down her face.

Cullen stood up and picked up his rucksack. He opened the outside pocket and took out the small bag he had placed there. Handing it to Arianna he said, "Open it."

She opened the sack, a puzzled look on her face as she did. Inside was a shimmering, glowing vial and her eyes grew large as she recognized it. "My phylactery? How did you?….Where did you? Maker!" She clasped the vial close to her heart and cried. It was the most wonderful gift anyone had ever given her and it had been Cullen who had.

He circled his arms around her, fastening the clasp of the amulet around her neck. Arianna looked down at the necklace she now wore and looked up at him, "Please marry me, Ari. I can't live without you."

"Yes!" she cried and threw her arms around him, holding him close. He kissed her hair and face, telling her he loved her over and over. As they held each other, Micah began to cry and Arianna started to go get him. "Let me," he said and went into the house.

Micah let out a cry of joy when he saw Cullen, who picked him up in a tight hug, kissing him on the forehead. "Have you been a good boy while I was away?" he asked.

Micah laughed and patted Cullen's cheeks with his hands, "Down!" he said and Cullen released him to run around then took Arianna back into his arms.

"So I can stay?" he asked her.

"Forever," she said.

The Bannorn

The land had proven to be exactly what the cart driver had told him all those years ago. After lying fallow for ten years, it was ready and he had planted as much of it as he could. The crops had developed well beyond expectations and Cullen had made much more money than he thought he would; enough to enable him to hire two men to help him full time and two additional men during harvest. If conditions were right, this year would be even better.

He and Arianna had stayed on their little farm for a few months, but when he had told her about the land and the Ban's offer, she had insisted he take it. "There is no reason for us to be hiding in the woods anymore," she had said, "I would have people around me again." So they had packed up and moved to the Bannorn, just in time for the spring planting.

Ban Sirus was a kind and generous man and had even allowed the two of them to stay at his estate while Cullen and some of the Ban's craftsmen built a new house on the farm, as the old one had burned during the Blight. While they stayed, the elderly Ban became ill and Arianna had cared for him, using her knowledge of magic and herbs. He had been so grateful he had presented her with a gift of two cows and a flock of geese and made her his official healer. Word spread quickly and she soon had many patients, enough to support the three of them for the first year. Cullen had been very proud of her.

Micah had grown from a chubby toddler to an athletic young boy, causing no end of worry for Arianna and Cullen. He was forever falling into holes, climbing trees and crawling into places that required rescue but was otherwise a normal and happy child.

Cullen had been good to his word and married Arianna in the small Chantry chapel on Ban Sirus' holding. The Ban had given her away and Alistair and Isabeaux had journeyed from Denerim for the ceremony, acting as witnesses. All parties involved thought the match an excellent one.

Ten months later, Arianna presented Cullen with a daughter, whom he graciously named Isabeaux. The older Isabeaux was touched and sent the child many gifts, but insisted that they call the girl Izzy, so they did. She had the blue eyes of her mother and her father's blond hair.

Cullen and Arianna were the happiest they could possibly be. The road to their happiness had not been paved but had been rough and rocky, difficult at the best. They survived and made a life together, one they knew was right.

Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,
I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.
I shall endure.
What you have created, no one can tear asunder.

-Trials 1:10