Hi all! Planning on this series being easy-reading with shorter chapters and (hopefully) frequent updates. Featuring f!Lavellan/Cullen/Solas pairings. Who can say which pairing will win out?

Please enjoy, and feel free to leave comments if you feel compelled. It's always nice!

The official story was that the Inquisitor broke her hand in a training exercise gone wrong. But who would believe that?

People. Everywhere, everyone wanted to believe it. It was so mundane. Their Inquisitor had faced Corypheus, slain his dragon, and united Thedas. Things like this, hands broken in training accidents, reminded them that she was a person, fallible, clumsy, susceptible to falls. It was beautiful in its simplicity.

Yes, it had been a fall, but what part about it had been accidental?

Cullen looked over the Inquisitor sitting on a window sill near the war table. She was small for an elf, slight. She had light blond hair she had grown out past her shoulders, strikingly blue eyes, and lips that were pulled in a perpetual frown these days. And there was the splint.

The surgeon had claimed it was absolutely necessary for the splint to cover not only her hand, but her forearm and bicep, too. Magic could not restore full function of her hand if she did not splint everything. Her whole arm was immobilized and attached to her neck with a cloth sling like a leaden ball and chain. She had found a stick in the gardens and was scratching under the wrappings miserably even now as she stared out the window.

"What do you think, Inquisitor?" Josephine asked, and both Cullen and Lavellan snapped their gaze back to her.

The Inquisitor looked helplessly between her advisers, giving a half-formed response.

"Maybe this can wait until tomorrow," Lelianna said. "It's late."

"Yes, I suppose we can wrap up the things we need to," Josephine said, "and continue another time with the rest." She smiled at Lavellan.

Cullen noted that they'd both been avoiding eye contact with the splint.

The Inquisitor leapt from the window sill like a cat and exited quietly, giving her advisers an appreciative smile before disappearing behind the doors.

Cullen found the Inquisitor in her chambers. She'd been spending much more time there than she ever had before. He was used to seeing her running about Skyhold, talking with their companions, trying to save the world one person at a time.

"You've taken to being much more pensive than usual," he said as he ascended the stairs into her chambers. "Forgive my intrusion."

Lavellan was on her north-facing balcony, staring down at the fortress. She turned and smiled at his approach. "There's nothing to forgive."

They leaned on the railing next to one another, looking at the horizon line. It was approaching sunset, and the dying light from the west cast the entire mountain range in a blaze of color. The clouds were pink, the peaks gold. High above, the stars were emerging, blinking away their sleep.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of this view," Lavellan offered.

Cullen laughed. "You do have the best seat in the house. I need to come up here more often."

She glanced at him, frowning, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"That's not what I meant," he said. "I just meant to see the view. The landscape." He groaned. "Talking has never been my strong suit."

She smiled. "I know."

"I wouldn't… I know you're hurting," Cullen said. "Solas leaving, it must have been hard on you."

The smile didn't leave Lavellan's lips, but he saw some of the light go out of her blue eyes. "I just need some time. Time heals."

He did not believe her, but he didn't think it would help to contradict her.

"So, Commander," she said, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Cullen blinked. He didn't particularly have a reason, other than to check up on her. "I thought you might want some company," he finally said.

She frowned and was about to reply when there was an urgent knock on the door. Lavellan bade entry, and an Inquisition runner marched up the stairs, parchment in hand.

"For you, Lady Inquisitor," the runner said, her Orlesian accent thick.

Lavellan took it, scanning the lines. Her face grew more sullen the further she read. When she finished, her expression hardened. "Prepare my horse," she said.

The runner bowed and left the way she'd come.

The Inquisitor strode over to her trunk, flung it open, and began to toss some clothes in a pile.

Cullen approached. "What's going on?"

"My clan," she said. "They're in trouble."

"We'll send some men to go take a look."

Lavellan glared at him before returning to her packing. "This is my clan, Commander. It is a personal matter that I must attend to." She struggled with a pair of woolen socks, trying to pair them. Her one good hand fumbled with them.

Cullen joined her on the ground, taking the socks from her and pairing them. He began folding the clothes she had strewn about, grouping them in neat military stacks. "You're injured. It's not safe."

She snatched a travel sack out of the trunk and began stuffing in the neatly folded clothes. "Safe has nothing to do with it. They're my family."

"Well, then, someone will just have to go with you to make sure safety remains a priority, because you certainly don't think it is." He glanced at her splint.

"Why don't you come, then?" she snapped.

"Maybe I will."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

They glared at each other for a moment.

Lavellan swung her travel sack over her good shoulder. "Well, you'd better hurry and pack. I'm heading out as soon as they bring my horse around."

He sputtered, but left quickly to gather his things.

And that is how Cullen found himself on the road to the north of Ferelden with Inquisitor Lavellan.