Winter was especially cruel at this time in Skyhold. Fresh snow was falling daily and the temperature dropped more and more as the day drew to a close. Gwyn glanced outside one of her bedroom windows, her eyes staring at the icicles that had formed at the top of the sill as she lounged in what she swore was the most comfortable chair in all of Skyhold. The more she looked at the falling snowflakes that were visible in the night, the colder she got. Pulling the blankets she'd taken from her bed around her, she went back to her "assigned reading" that was given to her by Josephine. Nobles wanting to meet her, wanting them to solve all of their problems as if she hadn't already had a darkspawn magister to worry about. Every line scrawled in the letters was like studying the history of magic back at the Circle.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Cullen carefully opened the door, his head poking through as he carried a pile of paperwork with him along with a small cup.

"No," Gwyn told him sternly, pointing at the pile he was approaching her with. A smile grew as Cullen leaned down to press his lips to hers in a chaste kiss.

"Oh, so you don't want this hot cocoa that I walked all the way down to the kitchens to get just for you?" He asked, smiling against the corner of her mouth. He took a long sip from the cup as Gwyn rolled her eyes.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny. Hand that over, I'm freezing," Gwyn shuddered. He placed the warm cup in her hands, watching as she breathed a sigh of relief at the very touch of it. Her face softened as she blew air over the drink and smiled. "Thank you." He kissed her head before setting his papers down on a nearby table and walking over to the second armor stand she'd had brought up for him once he'd made it a habit to share her room.

"In all seriousness, please tell me those aren't for me," Gwyn groaned, watching the pile of parchment carefully as if it would transform into a monster before her very eyes. Cullen laughed as he began to undo the clasps of his cuirass. "No, seriously—Josephine just gave me a handful of letters from nobles requesting that I attend a banquet of theirs or help them remove spiders from their basement. I only wish I were joking. I hate spiders." She shivered under her cloak of blanket and Cullen had to hide his smile as he removed his forearm guards.

"Well, they're not for you. At least, not yet anyway—I've yet to review them," he sighed as he pulled each layer of material off. Gwyn drank her hot cocoa, a smile creeping over her lips as she watched him undress in her peripherals.

"Thank the Maker," she breathed, setting her own pile of parchment down on the table near her and taking another sip of cocoa. "Thank you for this, again. Whatever would I do without you?" Cullen laughed as he pulled on his hide breeches that Gwyn had laid out for him.

"Well, where do I start," he grinned as Gwyn swatted him playfully. "There room for me under there?" Gwyn shifted on the loveseat just enough so he could settle beneath her. He let one of his legs dangle off the edge of the chair as Gwyn settled between his legs and rested her head on his chest. He pulled his paperwork in front of them, a tight line on his face as he began reading. His free hand pulled the tie that held Gwyn's hair in a ponytail out and ran through the locks until the reports were left on the table next to hers, abandoned. His fingers worked at her hair, twisting and knotting until there was a braid trailing over her shoulder. A small breath left her as he nuzzled against her neck and planted a small kiss.

"Josephine gave me something for you," he murmured, the thought finally crossing his mind.

"If it's more reports, tell her you couldn't find me," she smiled, turning her head to meet his lips.

"I don't think that excuse works much anymore," Cullen grinned, leaning forward to retrieve his pile once more. He sifted through the papers until he found a small envelope. "Here." He handed it to her, his fingers running over the purple wax seal. Gwyn stared at the seal for a few moments, her mouth hanging open. Her body tensed as she sat up, her fingers flipping the envelope over in her hands.

"Where did you get this?" Her eyes stared at the words emblazoned within the wax.

"Didn't you hear me? Josephine gave it to me to give to you; she said it was important. Why? What is it?" He moved to get a better look at her face, to get a better look at the wax seal. Modest in temper, bold in deed. He didn't recognize the saying, whatever it was. Gwyn was frozen, her fingers repeatedly running over the seal.

"Are you alright?" Cullen touched her shoulders and realized tears were welling in her eyes.

"It's my…" she searched for the words, "my family." She clutched the letter to her chest for a moment before a scratchy laugh left her throat.

"Your family?" She didn't talk about her family much. He knew she had had a difficult relationship, or lack thereof, with her mother, and that since she was sent to the Circle, she was largely kept in the dark about the goings-on within the Trevelyans. He knew she had a brother, and maybe even an older sister.

"It's from my father or my brother, it has to be. He's….he and Brennan, they're the only ones that-" Her voice cracked as she stared at the loopy scrawl on the front of the letter where they had written her name. "I haven't heard from them since…since the Circle. They were….they were the only ones who wrote. No one could visit, no one could leave—but they…they were the only ones." Her voice was small, her fingers shaking as she held the parchment.

"Hey-" Cullen turned her around so that she faced him, taking her hands in his. He pressed his forehead to hers, letting his overworked hands massage the palms of her hands. This calmed her down considerably as she let out a deep breath. "This is a good thing, right?" He wasn't asking, really. It was more of an assurance that he'd thrust out and hoped would stick. Finally, Gwyn opened the envelope and removed the letter. Her forehead still pressed to his, she breathed in and out as her eyes scanned the paper. Every now and then she'd let go of his hand to wipe a tear away until she finished the paper, letting out a sobbing laugh.

"They're coming here," she breathed, tears of happiness running down her face. "My father- he wants to see me. He's coming here." Cullen's hands cupped her face as she laughed tearfully. His thumb worked to catch the tears as he pressed a kiss to her face.

"They're okay?" He asked, a smile on his face. Gwyn nodded, blinking away more tears.

"They're okay," she breathed. That night the couple fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, staring out the window at the falling snow.

It was only days later that Gwyn was being told that her family would be arriving before dusk. She stood in Cullen's office, her fingers twisting nervously as she paced the room.

"What if my mother comes?" She wondered, glancing over at Cullen. She'd been pacing in their room all morning only to have followed him to his office, where she continued her display of anxiousness.

"They're going to want their daughter to greet them—not some scouts or an unknown delegate," Cullen murmured, tearing his eyes away from Gwyn. The more she circled his room, the dizzier he got. Gwyn groaned and rested against his desk until he looked up from his work and realized her shoulders were shaking. "Gwyn?" He moved around his desk to take a look at her. There had only been a handful of moments where he had seen her so vulnerable, and this was one of them. Her cheeks were streaked with tears as she fumbled with her hands.

"I haven't seen my family since I was nine years old, Cullen," she said softly. Her hands trembled until Cullen finally took them in his own, his thumb running over the material covering the palm of her left hand. She'd wrapped the anchor up this morning, knowing her family would have mixed feelings if they saw it. Gwyn took a breath, her eyes closed, "I haven't heard their voices…haven't touched them. I don't—my brother, I don't even know what he looks like now. My sister? I don't…I barely remember her. She was close with my mother, and I…" The thought was left hanging in the air as Gwyn bit her lip. Cullen's fingers interlocked with hers, his thumb working to relieve the tension in her hands.

"Hey," he murmured. His right hand lifted her chin, her blue eyes blinking away tears as they leveled with his. "If you want me to, I will be there with you every step of the way. Chances are, they're just as nervous as you are." He pulled her left hand to his lips, kissing the material covering her mark as well as the exposed skin on each finger. Eventually, Gwyn nodded her head and rested it against him. The smell of leather, mint, and parchment filled her senses as Cullen wrapped his arms around her.

The longer the two stood in silence, the more relaxed Gwyn had become. She had stopped fidgeting with her hands; her shoulders had become less tense. It was only when Josephine entered to announce that a carriage brandishing the Trevelyan sigil was approaching Skyhold that Gwyn's face contorted in panic. Immediately Cullen's hand reached for hers, squeezing it in support.

"I guess I'm finally meeting your parents, right?" A nervous smile tugged at his lips causing Gwyn's cheeks to redden.

"I…I hadn't thought of it like that. I suppose you're right," she murmured, squeezing his hands back. She pressed an affectionate kiss to his lips, allowing herself a brief moment of calm. The two walked towards the doors of the main hall together, fingers interwoven until Gwyn froze. The realization that she stood behind the doors that would lead her to her parents was almost too much. Squeezing Cullen's hand, she glanced up at him.

"Don't leave me," she whispered. Cullen kissed her hand before letting go slowly. They had talked about this in the days after receiving the letter—perhaps little steps were required as Gwyn reconnected with her family. It'd been almost eighteen years since she'd seen them, been in the same room as them—he'd argued with her that perhaps introducing a relationship was one of the last things she needed to be worrying about.

"Right behind you. Every step of the way. Promise." Gwyn's hand moved towards the handle only to retract and nervously touch the braid Cullen had made for her that morning.

"What if-?" She stammered.

"Stop," he urged her. "You're overthinking this far too much. One step at a time…and, if it doesn't work out- it doesn't work out."

When the door opened and Gwyn watched as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Skyhold's main staircase, she glanced nervously back at Cullen. Her feet were glued to the steps, torn between running to the carriage and running back to the safety of her quarters. Cullen could see the steps her mind was already taking, the questions she was churning around and trying to ignore. Why now? Since the Circle in Ostwick fell, why didn't they try to find me? Do they want something from me? Did they miss me? How much do they remember me?

The doors to the carriage opened, revealing a young man that resembled Gwyn. He had short brown hair that was slightly slicked back and shorn on the sides, as well as bright blue eyes that might have been a shade lighter than hers. His face softened when his eyes met Gwyn's, his sharp facial features had made him seem much harsher than he really was, Cullen noticed. There was a familiarity beyond his resemblance to Gwyn in his face that Cullen could not quite place, but these thoughts were interrupted as Gwyn stumbled to take an uncertain step forward.

"Brennan…is that, oh Maker, is that really you?" Her voiced cracked as she struggled with each word until the man nodded tearfully. Cullen noticed that when she ran into his arms, the man was almost a head taller than her.

"We looked….we thought…" Brennan hugged her tightly until he turned to the carriage to help a greying man out. He shared similar features—an angular jawline, the bright blue eyes that graced both Gwyn and Brennan's faces, freckles peppering his cheekbones. It was Cullen, however, who watched as the man anxiously fidgeted with his hands until Gwyn wrapped her arms around him, sobbing openly. Her father. The longer Cullen watched as Gwyn hugged the two of them and murmur "I love you's" and "I missed you's" to each of them, the more he longed for his own family. It had been years since he'd seen them last. Not long ago Mia had written him, cross that he hadn't taken the time to inform her of his new position. Perhaps when this was over, he would take the time to write her…maybe even tell her about Gwyn.

She looked back at the carriage, her eyes searching for more only to see her brother shake his head sadly.

"Your mother, she…" Her father looked away, ashamed of the words he couldn't bring himself to say.

"She's elected to stay home," Brennan finished, his eyes averting Gwyn's solemn stare. She glanced back at Cullen, her mouth forming a tight line as she sifted through the unwelcome thoughts in her head. Finally, she closed her eyes and breathed a deep sigh.

"It's okay," she murmured, shaking her head. "And Mariana?" It was a question she already knew the answer to.

"Mari is….she…" Brennan fought over the words until he gave in. "They didn't want to come."

"Brennan- that's not fair," their father spoke defensively until Brennan rolled his eyes.

"Are you kidding me? You heard them—'We don't know any Gwyneth's' as if she never even existed," he scoffed. Gwyn's fingers were knotting tirelessly as the two argued, her eyes closing until she took a step back from her family, from the words they were spilling. Immediately Cullen stepped forward, a gloved hand extended.

"Cullen Rutherford of Honnleath—Commander of the Inquisition's forces," he offered the men a small smile until it was Gwyn's father who reluctantly shook his hand. "It's an honor to meet Gwy—the Inquisitor's family." Her father eyed him for a moment before a smile grew on his face.

"I have heard a great many things of you, Commander Cullen," Gwyn's father gripped his hand tightly. "Petyr Trevelyan."

"Yes, welcome to Skyhold, Bann Trevelyan." Cullen motioned towards the castle behind him, which caused a low whistle to escape from Brennan.

"Wow…what a place," he whispered. "So, this place is yours, Gwyn?"

"It's the Inquisition's. I mean, someday I hope I can have a place to call home. I hear the south Reach is nice," her eyes darted to Cullen, who offered a small smile. Gwyn's father looked between the two before wrapping an arm around Gwyn, hugging her closely.

"Commander Cullen, would you mind showing Brennan the training yard while my daughter and I have a moment to ourselves?" Gwyn's father watched Cullen carefully. It was only until she nodded that Cullen gave a polite smile.

"Of course, it'd be an honor to show him what great strides the Inquisitor has made for our cause," he gave a curt nod, bowing slightly in their direction. Brennan was eyeing Cullen suspiciously, his eyebrows raised with every word spoken. "Perhaps I can learn some childhood stories about her."

"I've got a few," Brennan admitted with a small laugh, causing Gwyn's eyes to widen.

"Or you could just show him the grounds," she warned.

"Where's the fun in that?" Cullen joked.

Gwyn and her father walked in the gardens together, her arm wrapped around his and her head resting on his shoulder.

"I missed you," she murmured. "I missed everyone. Why…why didn't you come sooner?" Her father stopped, turning to face her. He looked so much older. His dark hair was greying, the lines on his face more pronounced. He held her hands in his, which seemed surreal to her. The last time this happened, it was coupled with holding her head, pressing kisses to her temple while she asked question after question. Why? Don't you love me? What did I do? Can I make it better? Now he looked tired to her, like he never slept at all since that day.

"We didn't know where to start when we heard the Circle fell. I…Brennan was in Kirkwall for the longest time. I reached out to him, but even his connections were few and far between. No mention of your name for the longest time," he voice was thick with tears as he shook his head. "There's no excuse. Forgive me. I am so deeply sorry." His face fell, his arms drawing her close to him. Tears filled her own eyes. She hadn't exactly been reaching out to them either. Reaching out to them seemed like something that would only lead to pain. For years, she'd felt abandoned. For years, she'd read their letters behind stone walls and wondered if she would see them again, if they wanted to see her again. Reaching out meant opening herself up and allowing them inside again. If that meant the possibility of being tossed aside once more, she hadn't wanted any part of that.

"Everything they're saying about you? Adamant Fortress? The Winter Palace? Is it true?" Her father's voice still seemed foreign to her.

"I guess it depends what they've been saying about me," she laughed through her tears. He took a step back from her, his hands holding her shoulders.

"I am so unbelievably proud of you, Gwyn. All along, since you were young, I've always told your mother how you were destined to do great things. She thought it was nonsense—you were a handful while Mariana was proper. Mariana was going to marry well, going to raise the Trevelyan name to greatness in her own way while you would probably still be playing in the mud with Brennan," he chuckled at the memory that he was pulling from the depths of his mind. "You always did want to prove her wrong, even as a child. I—" He was quiet, trembling almost.

"It's okay," she murmured, holding his hands. As she welcomed the tears that ran down her face, he studied her face for a moment.

"That man…the Commander…he's a nice man, isn't he?" The words were chosen carefully as he spoke.

"Cullen? He's…" The tips of Gwyn's ears grew hot as she searched her father's expression, hoping to gauge him somehow. It didn't matter, she realized. The more she thought about it, about Cullen, she felt her face break into a smile. "He's a good man," she managed to get out.

"I know that look," he murmured, grinning to himself.

"What?"

"You both look at each other when you think no one is looking. You smile as if you're the only two people who exist. When he walked away, you watched until he was no longer in your eyesight. When I asked to speak with you, he looked to you. He worries about you." He pursed his lips, his eyes studying her. "Am I close?" She was still smiling at him, yet the idea of sharing this part of her life with him seemed foreign to her.

"He's a good man," she repeated. She didn't owe him any more than that. As the two settled onto a bench, her father pulled his cloak closer around him.

"I apologize if I've overstepped my bounds," he said softly, avoiding her gaze. "I…I know this isn't easy for any of us. I just…I simply wanted to be involved with your life, if you'll allow it. Forgive me." He stood up, his fingers knotting together. She watched the familiar movements of his wrists, how he fidgeted and twisted in front of her in the way she'd come to know all too well.

"I love him," she whispered. She cleared her throat as he turned to face her. "Cullen, I mean. I'm in love with him. I don't…I may not know exactly what's in my future, but I know I want him to be there." A smile spread over her father's face as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Does he…?" He asked softly, the question hanging in the air as tears rolled down his cheeks in waves. Gwyn nodded against him, causing his grasp to tighten around her. "I'm unbelievably happy for you, dear. That's all I ever wanted for you and more." This was different for her. It was one thing to read your father's words of hope and love while you were left wondering what was real…and another to hear them for yourself, knowing there was truth within them. As the snow fell around them, Gwyn breathed a sigh of relief in knowing that, even though her family was still fumbling along, they were not completely broken.

"You're staying for dinner, aren't you?" Gwyn asked, leading him through the garden.

"If you'll still have us, of course," he murmured as she hooked arms with him.

"I'd like for you to get to know Cullen more…I think you'd really like him. Plus, I have some friends I'd like you to meet."

"I'd like that," he grinned. It was different, but it was a start.

Cullen walked with Brennan across the main courtyard, his arms folded behind his back.

"This place is amazing," said Brennan incredulously as he looked around him. "How did you manage to find all these people?"

"Most are refugees we took in across Thedas, actually. It was the able-bodied that enlisted to become part of the Inquisition's forces, but we've managed to find other positions for those who don't want to or cannot fulfill a role within the actual military. Gwyn's helped countless villages; it's amazing, really. We've managed to recruit a large number of former Templars who've chosen to leave the Order as well as the remnants of the Order itself, led by Knight-Commander Barris—"

"Templars? Here? With my sister leading them?" Brennan seemed shocked as they approached the training yard.

"Yes," Cullen shifted uneasily as he gripped the hilt of his sword. "Gwyn offered them an alliance after a demon of Envy infiltrated its ranks…" Brennan's face fell the more Cullen spoke, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "Did you not know?" Brennan turned on his heel, his face pale.

"The youngest of the family is typically given to the Chantry to serve, did you know that?" His voice was quiet as he watched men hack away at the practice dummies. Confusion spread over Cullen's face as he gazed at Brennan. "They're either to join the Templar Order or become a brother within the Chantry," Brennan continued. The more Cullen studied his face, realization began to wash over him.

"Kirkwall…I remember now—you were there," he murmured. Brennan leaned against the fence of the sparring ring, his head hanging low.

"I thought if I became a Templar, they'd let me serve in Ostwick so-"

"They don't do that," Cullen murmured, his eyes lowered.

"Of course they don't! I was twelve," Brennan spat. "All I knew was that my sister- my friend- was taken from me and, to my mother, I was nothing but a reminder of that. No magical abilities to speak of, yet, simply because we looked alike, I was just as much as a blemish as Gwyn was." Cullen gripped the handle of his sword tightly, the words causing his gut to sink.

"I don't remember you after…"

"You mean after the Knight-Commander went crazy and the Champion saved the day? Of course you don't, I hid like a coward when it was over. I knew there would be war between the Templars and mages…you'd have to be a fool to not see it burning like wildfire across Thedas. All I could think was that somewhere out there…my sister was in a tower, probably hating me for what I was without even knowing me. I didn't want to be just another man in Templar armor to her and I didn't want to see her as just another possible abomination. I would've never forgiven myself if—" He kicked the ground as he looked up at Cullen, a small smile on his face.

"Where did you go?"

"What d'you think? I tried to find her—searched almost bloody everywhere except exactly where she was," he sighed deeply before leaning against the fence. "Then I went the only other place I could think of: home. I wasn't necessarily welcomed by my mother, but my father made a deal for me to begin working with a blacksmith. I don't know if you remember, but I was skilled with crafting within the Order…"

"Have you…" The question was there on the tip of Cullen's tongue, yet he couldn't bring himself to ask. Have you stopped taking lyrium? Brennan looked away, shifting uncomfortably before walking in the direction they came from.

"Do you love her even though she's a mage?" Brennan called behind him, his strides long as he approached the stairs.

"Excuse me?" Cullen stammered, his shoulders tensing as Brennan turned to face him. There was an uncomfortable silence as Brennan studied his face.

"I remember the fear and distrust in which you sometimes spoke of mages—sometimes even around the Champion." As Brennan spoke, Cullen felt his chest tightening. "So, I ask you again…my sister- do you love her even though she's a mage? Or is this a fleeting moment?" The words weren't spoken with disdain, but, rather, honesty and concern. Cullen gripped the hilt of his sword once more, his heart pounding as he sifted through the right words to say.

"When I met your sister, I was struggling with some of those feelings. If I'm completely honest, the fact that she was mage sometimes terrified me, yet she's remained understanding throughout. She respected boundaries I had, challenged me when I expressed questionable thoughts, and has made each day I wake that much more bearable." Cullen felt his throat become dry as he paused to swallow. "There's not a day Gwyn leaves here that my stomach doesn't clench in fear that she won't come back," he uttered. Brennan nodded, a small smile on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Not that she needs it…but you'll take care of her?"

"I like to think we take care of each other regardless," he smiled.

"You two getting along out here?" Gwyn called from the top of the stone steps.

"I was just telling Commander Cullen here all about that time you cut Mariana's hair," Brennan winked.

"You didn't," Gwyn gasped, her mouth hanging open. Brennan climbed the staircase and clapped a playful hand to her back.

"No worries, sis. I didn't embarrass you too much," he smiled. He leaned into Gwyn, wrapping his arms around her as he lowered his voice, "He's a nice one, sis. I like him." He clambered up the rest of the steps to enter the main hall as Cullen joined Gwyn on the steps.

"Did it go well?" She asked worriedly. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her body close to him as she buried her arms within his cloak.

"He worries about you," Cullen murmured as Gwyn rested her head against him.

"Almost everyone worries about me, it seems like," she muttered, looking up at his face. His fingers ran over the length of the scar on her jawline until his thumb rested on her chin. He lifted it slightly in order to press his lips to hers. When he finally pulled away, he rested his chin on her head.

"Would you want to go home after all this over? To Ostwick?" He asked, his fingers gently caressing her back.

"To me, home is wherever you are. If that's Ostwick, fine. If we stay here or go to Honnleath, and stay away from my mother, that's great. Just as long as I'm with you." Her fingers reached for his, weaving together as Gwyn flashed a toothy grin up at him.

"And I, you," he replied, pressing his lips to hers once more.