It was odd to think that the Hero of Ferelden was lying on his bed, Cullen mused. The circumstances surrounding it, even odder. She was deadly still, and pale as a ghost. Had he not seen or heard her breathing, he could have mistaken her for dead. Cullen sat on a chair next to the bed, watching over her, waiting for her to waken. There was definitely something wrong with her, but he couldn't call for a healer since she'd made him promise not to tell anyone that she was there.

When he'd been a young templar and imagined her in his bed, this had definitely not been how he'd envisioned it. But then he shouldn't have thought about it at all, since fraternization between mages and templars was frowned upon, to say the least. He'd been infatuated with her though, and the thoughts had come to him unbidden. Lewd thoughts that he'd been ashamed about, and never, ever acted upon. Duty was important to him then, it still was, but back then his duty had been to the Templar Order. So any untoward thoughts he'd had about the mage had to be pushed away. But sometimes, at night, when he had trouble sleeping the images of her had come to him anyway. The same images that later had been used against him when the tower fell prey to demons.

Cullen shuddered suddenly. He didn't want to think about those visions. The ones the demons had used to torture him. Much time had passed, and he'd finally come to terms with what had happened. For the first few years though… He'd hated mages. What they could do. What they could become. It took him a long time to be himself again, to trust, even a little bit. Mages had great power, that much was true, but that did not automatically make them evil.

The last time he'd seen Isabel was when she'd saved him. She'd saved all of them. Or what was left at least. Most of the mages and templars in the tower had been killed or turned into abominations, but she'd saved anyone who was left. And he'd yelled at her for it. Told her to kill every last mage, just in case they were an abomination. It was a reaction born out of fear, but he was ashamed of it. She'd saved them, and he'd tried to have everyone killed.

Leaning back in the chair, he rubbed his neck with one hand, looking at the woman lying on his bed. The years had been kind to her, she looked nearly exactly the way he remembered her, just a little bit older. She had a beautiful face with a straight nose, high cheekbones and arched eyebrows. Her blonde hair was pulled into a knot at the back of her head, the same style she'd favored back in the circle. It was worrying to see her so pale though, and he didn't quite know what to do. He didn't want to break her trust by revealing that she was at Skyhold, but he also didn't want her to suffer.

Sitting up straight as he heard the door downstairs open, Cullen realized that perhaps he may not have a choice in the matter. He quickly moved over to the ladder leading from his little loft to the downstairs room that served as his chambers/office. Standing by his desk was Leliana, the Inquisition's Spymaster.

"Is it truly her?" she asked, not even bothering to greet him.

Cullen groaned. "How did you know?"

Leliana shrugged. "I have eyes everywhere. You didn't answer my question."

"It's her," Cullen said. "But she's not here to help us. Truth be told… I'm not entirely sure why she's here. I just know she needs help."

"Help? Why?" Leliana looked pointedly around the room. "And where is she? I know she didn't leave."

Cullen nodded towards the ladder. "Up there. Asleep. Unconscious. I don't know."

They climbed the ladder one after another, and once upstairs Leliana made a sound of distress as she saw her old friend lying pale on the bed. During the fifth blight the two had been very good friends, and Leliana had helped the Warden slay the Archdemon and end the blight.

"She said she needed somewhere to recuperate, and then she dropped to the floor," Cullen explained. "I don't know what is wrong, and I didn't know if I would dare to call in a healer since she explicitly asked me not to let anyone know she was here."

Taking off one of her gloves, Leliana touched her friend's cheeks and forehead with the back of her hand. "She's burning up," she said grimly. "There's a fever raging in her. We must do something." She quickly divested of her other glove and unclasped the cloak that was still wrapped around the Warden. Once the cloak was off, she ran her hands down the mage's body, looking for signs of injury or illness. When she brushed against the side of her, just above the waist, the Warden let out a pained noise in her sleep.

"Here," Leliana said. "I will have to find out what's wrong." Pulling a dagger from her belt she swiftly cut open the other woman's dress and tore it apart. The moment her pale skin appeared, Cullen quickly turned around. He did not want to ogle her when she was unconscious. Actually, he should never want to ogle her.

He heard Leliana move about behind him. "This can't be good… That's an ugly wound, and I think she's been poisoned. We need to…" Her voice faltered. "Cullen?"

"I want to help you," he said. "But I don't think it's proper…"

There was a smile in Leliana's voice. "She's perfectly covered up, I promise. I've made sure not to offend anyone's modesty. Yours or hers."

Mainly his, Cullen supposed. Having grown up in a mage circle, Isabel would be used to undressing around others. The mage quarters were divided by title rather than gender, so you'd share your living area with both men and women. On the other hand, Templars were mainly men, and so they were automatically more modest. Suddenly Cullen felt very foolish. It wasn't as if he'd never seen a body unclothed before, and the situation was anything but sexual. Somehow, it had just felt wrong to see Isabel without clothes. But if she was properly covered, he was really being just that – foolish.

"Beg your pardon," he murmured as he turned back around towards the bed. "I don't know what came over me."

"You're just a prude," Leliana commented teasingly as he came to stand next to her.

Cullen smiled wryly. "I don't think anyone's ever tried to call me a prude before."

"Oh, they have," Leliana replied. "Just not to your face."

"It does look bad," Cullen agreed, and not only to change the subject. The Warden's chest was neatly covered with the remnants of the top of her robe, while the skirts still clung to her hips and down her legs. There was an ugly gash in her right side, just below the ribs. The gash was obviously in a bad shape, the area swollen and red, but worse than that were the dark, purple lines that veined their way across her abdomen. They created an intricate web that seemed to creep its way further and further across her body, some of the branches even disappeared below the hem of her skirts, and up towards her chest.

"I don't know what kind of poison it is, I will have to do some research." Leliana sighed. "I will have some hot water and herbs delivered to you by one of my most trusted people. You will have to clean her wound and dress it. In the meanwhile, I will try to figure out which poison this is and how we can cure it. If she wakes up and can tell us, find me."

Cullen nodded grimly, as Leliana started down the ladder. Before her head disappeared below, she added, "Cullen… Don't let her die."

"I won't," he promised, while praying that it wasn't a promise that he would have to break.