When Leliana's scouts reported a contingent of about sixty red templars a few leagues from Skyhold, Cullen considered it the perfect opportunity for some field training. He took around a hundred soldiers and a few healers, assuming it'd be enough that everyone could get in some real practice and they could still eliminate the templars without any major casualties.

The scene upon arrival was…. Not what Cullen expected.

Strewn across the valley were the bodies of nearly all the templars and one Red Templar Horror. Many were frozen, some were burned, and a few looked as though they'd been on the wrong end of a lightning bolt. At the center of it all was a woman who looked very much like a certain mage whom Cullen had never expected to see again. As she turned to cast a cone of frost, he realized it was undeniably Solona Amell, who'd been missing for seven years.

Amell froze three of the remaining templars at once, dodging a fourth too slowly and taking its sword to the shoulder. Her cry of agony shook him, and he ordered his soldiers forward.

At the sight of the Inquisition's army marching, the templars who could turned tail and ran. Amell stopped, turning to look behind her. Her eyes frantically searched their ranks til she saw their banner, and Cullen could see her relief from yards away. The mage half-jogged over, bloodied and with an arrow sticking out of her middle.

"Hello!" she shouted, heading straight for him. "You're the Commander of the Inquisition?"

It took him a very surreal moment to realize she didn't recognize him.

"Yes," he replied.

"Can your soldiers handle the rest?" she asked, gesturing behind herself with a thumb.

"Yes," he repeated, still not convinced this wasn't a dream.

"Fantastic," she said, exhaling slowly. "And I assume you have healers?"

Cullen heard himself call for them, but he wasn't aware he was doing it. He watched as Amell got a firm grip on the arrow and tugged it out of herself, crying out as she did so.

"Oh, Andraste," she breathed, wobbling slightly, arrow still in hand. "That was not smart." She collapsed just as the healer found her way to the front lines.

"Is that…" the woman asked, stunned.

"Help her!" Cullen said, finally having the presence of mind to climb down off his horse. Not that there was much he could do for her, aside from hover awkwardly.

"Right," responded the mage, kneeling next to the woman and getting to work.

Cullen distracted himself by flagging down Knight-Captain Rylen. "Split the soldiers into two groups – one to hunt down the rest of the red templars and another to tend to the bodies of the fallen. Remind them to be respectful. These were once their compatriots."

"Yes, Commander," the captain said with a salute. "You'll be taking the Hero back to Skyhold?"

"Yes," Cullen replied, watching the healer. She wasn't frantically working, but she hadn't given up. Both good signs. "Follow as soon as you can."

He didn't wait for a response. The healer rocked back on her heels and looked up to Cullen.

"I'm amazed she was still alive, much less fighting," the woman said, reverence in her voice. "I don't think she'll wake for a day or two."

"Is she…" Cullen asked, unable to finish his sentence.

"She'll be fine," she reassured, standing and looking down at Amell. "She just needs rest."

"Thank you," Cullen said. "Allsop!"

The soldier turned and stood at attention.

"Yes, Commander?"

Cullen mounted his horse, wondering how exactly he was going to do this. He hadn't exactly needed to haul someone unconscious on a horse with him before. Hopefully it'd be no different than riding with a sword and shield out for battle, although her extra weight might pose a balance problem. "Hand me Amell."

"The Hero of Ferelden?" He asked, looking at the unconscious figure nervously. "To be honest, ser, I'm a little afraid to touch her."

Cullen took a moment to refrain from rolling his eyes. For all the stories around her, most Fereledens knew she was still just a woman. "You'll be more than afraid if she doesn't get back to Skyhold because you wouldn't pick her up."

Looking as though Amell were going to wake up and hit him with a fireball at any moment, Allsop delicately gathered her into his arms and handed her up to Cullen. It took a moment to situate her in his lap, but not having to take the reins made it manageable. It was the first time he could remember being explicitly thankful for the horseback training he'd received to fight while riding. He'd have to ride slowly, but it would be better not to gallop either way, since he wasn't sure how well his horse could handle the extra weight.

Five minutes into the ride, Amell stirred, making a soft noise that drew Cullen's attention.

"Amell?" he asked. When he got no response, he tried, "Solona?"

"'re we on a horse?" she asked, voice groggy and still pressed against him. She made no move to sit up or look up at him, but her hand found the fabric below his chest plate, and she weakly gripped it.

"Yes," he replied, wondering if she knew now who he was. He doubted it; she seemed half-unconscious still.

"Where'd we get a horse?" she asked. She sounded very much like someone who'd been told they needed to wake up and refused to. Cullen somehow managed not to laugh.

"It's my horse," he told her, and she weakly laughed once.

"You're such a liar, Alistair," she said, and his heart clenched. At least she sounded content. "Are the darkspawn dead?"

"Every one," he replied, not wanting to break her out of whatever dream she was having.

"Where are Wynne and Zev?" she asked. She was fighting hard not to sleep until she was assured they were all safe. It was no wonder she inspired so many to follow her.

"They're safe," he said, trying to think of some sort of excuse that might pacify her. "Wynne insisted you be the one to ride the horse."

She laughed once more and fell back asleep.