Thank you everyone for the wonderful and highly positive response! I hope you enjoy this bit, it shamelessly deviates from what we see happen in the game (though I wouldn't call it 'AU' or anything -more like a 'behind the scenes' look), but it had to be done guys. It had to be. Enjoy.

Or don't.

But you totally should.

I own nothing. All hail BioWare.

Blame the Herald

Part Two

Happiness feels a lot like sorrow
Let it be, you can't make it come or go
But you are gone- not for good but for now
Gone for now feels a lot like gone for good

Happiness is a firecracker sitting on my headboard
Happiness was never mine to hold
Careful child, light the fuse and get away
'Cause happiness throws a shower of sparks

Happiness damn near destroys you
Breaks your faith to pieces on the floor
So you tell yourself, that's enough for now
Happiness has a violent roar

Happiness is like the old man told me
Look for it, but you'll never find it all
Let it go, live your life and leave it
Then one day, wake up and she'll be home
Home, home, home

Happiness, by The Fray

Cullen could not immediately recall a time in which he had been more miserable.

Rain pounded at his company from all directions, carried on fierce gales of wind that cut through even the most well oiled cloaks like shards of glass. Icy water stung at his eyes from beneath a sodden hood and penetrated every nook and crevice of his armor until he could not even recall what being dry and warm felt like.

He blamed the Inquisitor.

Fel lighting, stinking of magic and corruption, ripped across the sky wildly, crashing to earth with a violence that shook the ground beneath them. From across the steady roll of gentle hills he could make out a strange green glow emanating from beneath the torrent waters' of a massive lake. It was most certainly a Fade rift, one of several the Inquisitor had been sent to close in the area.

His men were on edge from more than just rain and lightening. Their eyes darted across flickering shadows in search of the reported undead wandering the wilds of Crestwood, cold hands gripping reigns tightly and straying near weapons at the first sign of anything shifting in the darkness. Cullen had only assembled a small team to accompany him but it was a veteran force, much improved since their days at Haven. It was clear, however, that many of his men were undone by the utterly unforgiving weather. Not that he blamed them. Though to be honest the last time Cullen had passed through Crestwood had been during the Blight, so its present condition was actually quite the improvement.

Cullen squinted through the darkness, following the wavering lantern light of the standard bearer as they pressed their mounts up a steep rise in the path. The Inquisition's colors flapped ferociously in the wind, strangely majestic and fierce in the blinding flash of the storm. The ground leveled and the keep materialized like a mirage out of the misery, lighted windows promising warmth and comfort. Cullen could all but taste the relief of his men.

He kicked his mount into a gallop with a shout that was taken up by the entire company. With the keep in view his heart was a war drum in his chest and his hands shook as he urged his horse across unfamiliar terrain. Cullen wasn't typically prone to irrational fits of panic or worry, but since the moment the messenger had arrived at the gates of Skyhold several days prior, he'd had an acidic, burning lump in his throat.

Lieutenant Murray burst into his office without preamble, "Commander!" The look on the man's face was enough to pull Cullen immediately from behind his desk.

"What is it, what's happened? Has Her Worship returned?" He hadn't heard the fanfare but he'd been buried in reports all morning.

The Lieutenant shook his head, "No My Lord, but a messenger just arrived from Crestwood, Sister Leliana has demanded your presence at the War Table, immediately."

Cullen was out the door before the other man had finished speaking, a sinking feeling in his gut.

Something had happened.

Leliana, typically the picture of control and discretion, was obviously shaken as he entered the large room. She didn't wait for him to ask.

"She's been injured, capturing a fortress in Crestwood."

The strength went out of Cullen's knees and he braced his clenched fists on the War Table in an effort to conceal his reaction.

"How badly?"His voice was hoarse as a thousand terrible thoughts passed through his mind at once.

Leliana shook her head, a helpless, aggrieved look on her face. She glanced down at the rumpled scroll in her hand with a weak shake of her head. "It doesn't say. Only that the keep was successfully captured from the bandits but that the Inquisitor is currently unable to be moved due to injuries sustained during the conflict."

Cullen slammed his fist on the table, scattering markers and papers. Leilana flinched.

"I'm gathering a company-"

"Cullen," Josephine cautioned softly from the doorway behind him. "Are you sure that's wise?"

He whirled on her and shouted, "I don't give a damn! We can't just leave her out there without support!-"

Cullen read the look of distress on their ambassador's face as she recoiled and some of the bluster went out of him. He shoved a hand angrily through his hair and turned away, pacing to the open window that faced snow covered mountains as a heavy silence fell over the room.

Maker help him he hated this. He hated sending her out there into danger with only a handful of people, most of whom he didn't trust beyond their own convoluted ambitions, while he sat behind safe walls delegating and pandering up to lords and nobles. It made him feel so… helpless.

Leliana rested a hand gently on his shoulder. Her expression, when he turned toward her, told him she understood.

"Go," she whispered with a soft smile. "We can handle things here for a few days."

Cullen closed his eyes for a brief moment, squashing a sudden sense of guilt and fighting for control over himself. He squeezed Leliana's hand briefly in his.

"We can't lose her," he muttered, his voice clipped to conceal emotion. I can't lose her, were the unspoken words of his heart. Words he was far too afraid to say aloud.

"I know," Leliana said and Cullen knew she understood far more than he wanted her to.

The sentries recognized him immediately and the portcullises were being raised before they even made the draw bridge. They thundered through the Gate House and into the bailey of the keep, pacing their horses as a sudden flurry of activity enveloped them. Cullen caught sight of Cassandra rushing down the steps to meet them and he dismounted swiftly, throwing his hood back and shaking the water out of his eyes. The rain was less terrible within the confines of the keep, impressive walls barring the worst of the wind, but it was still persistent.

"Commander Cullen, we weren't expecting you-"

"Where is she Cassandra?" Cullen broke in, beyond impatient.

"The Inquisitor?" She seemed utterly perplexed by his presence, blinking at him with wide eyes in the deluge.

"No, the Empress," he growled. "Of course the damned Inquisitor."

Cassandra glared, perturbed by his tone, but made no comment, "She's this way, Commander."

She led him swiftly up a series of steps, past crumbling fortifications and deserted courtyards of what had once been a formidable castle. Tents had already been erected along the southernmost wall and the parapets were littered with scouts. Cullen absently approved of the preparations. Men stared as they passed, stunned by his presence, and hurriedly stood at attention. Cullen paid them little heed.

They reached the main tower and Cassandra held the door open for him. She jerked her head upward, "Up the steps, on the third floor, the last door at the end of the hall. I have several pressing matters to attend unless you require my presence."

"No, that won't be necessary." Cullen said with little consideration to what she was actually saying, already half way across the room and to the steps. He was too preoccupied to consider the Seeker's lack of concern or distress, too intent on his own internal anxiety.

As soon as he was out of sight he took the steps two at a time and found the door Cassandra had described. The storm raged violently on as he knocked firmly, trying to ignore the trembling in his knees and hands. He was already pushing his way inside as the Inquisitor shouted a 'Come in!' which died on her lips as soon as she saw him.

Cullen stood stunned and dripping in her doorway as she stared at him in absolute shock.

The Inquisitor appeared to be in perfect health as she blinked at him owlishly from behind a massive oak desk. She was dressed in a simple, loose fitting night gown with her hair free and floating about her shoulders like a fiery cloak. She held a quill in one hand with a neatly stacked tower of reports to one side. As Cullen stood speechless a drop of ink fell and stained the parchment she'd just been reviewing. A large fire burned cheerfully in its grate and it gave the room a cheery, inviting glow.

She came to some sort of conclusion a moment later and lurched awkwardly from her chair. "Commander Cullen! What is it? Is it Skyhold? Has there been an attack?!"

Cullen was at a complete loss, opening his mouth several times only to snap it closed again as words evaded him completely.

He had expected to find her at death's door, buried under mounds of bloodied bandages and surrounded by anxious healers. As she came toward him, hands wringing anxiously, he did detect a slight limp and saw that she cringed as she walked.

"We… we received word that you had been injured," he said finally, his voice faint. The adrenaline was leaking out of him so fast that he felt completely deflated in mere seconds. Only sheer willpower kept him from failing against the doorjamb in a mixture of weary relief and total confusion.

The Inquisitor frowned at him, looking just as perplexed as he felt, and glanced down at her leg. One slender foot was bare against the rushes and the other had been carefully wrapped in bandages, bulky with the splints secured beneath it.

"Um, well, there was an incident with me being thrown from a horse. Broken leg, but Solas patched me up pretty quickly. Still aches some but nothing serious, should be able to remove the brace in a few days… is that why you rode-"

She broke off, reading the answer in his pained gaze, and her eyes widened further with understanding. Cullen gave up and collapsed into the nearest chair with a thunderous groan. Soggy armor creaked in protest as he leaned back and threw a hand over his eyes, temporarily defeated.

"We thought you were dying," he murmured helplessly.

"Oh," the Inquisitor said vaguely, apparently at as much of a loss as he.

He peeked at her from beneath the fall of his tunic sleeve. Her head was bowed slightly, waist length hair slipping forward to conceal her expression as her hands clenched and unclenched uncertainly before her. The Inquisitor had always been small but without the help of leather and armor she looked particularly fragile. Her cotton nightgown was thin and Cullen realized that he could see the faint outline of her figure through it by grace of the firelight behind her.

Maker, she was lovely.

He swallowed heavily and closed his eyes for another long, tense moment, trying desperately to sort through his tremulous emotions.

"How-" The Inquisitor said at last, stumbling over her words, "how did you know I'd been injured?"

Cullen grunted. "What do you mean how did I know? It was in the report you sent."

The Inquisitor shook her head slowly back and forth, "No it wasn't… I only just sent my report this morning…" She trailed off.

That brought Cullen to his senses. A cold spike of trepidation lanced through him. Had it been a trick? A means to pull him away from Skyhold before an attack? Or perhaps an attempt to corner he and the Inquisitor outside of their main fortifications?

They locked gazes and he could see the same series of possibilities racing through her mind.

"Do you have this letter?" She asked tightly.

He stood, jerking off his wet gauntlets and fumbling for the pouch at his belt. He pulled the parchment free, only slightly damp, and handed it to her. The Inquisitor snatched it out of his hands and moved closer to the candles burning on her desk. Cullen tried not to be distracted by the sheen of her hair, or the trim curve of her ankles, or the teasing gap between the laces at the front of her nightgown, or the way her face was reddening steadily with anger...

Cullen blinked and shook his head, managing to pull himself together just as she rounded on him, fury making her green eyes all the more vibrant. Damn, she was beautiful.

Maker help him he needed sleep. Or a stiff drink. Possibly both.

Focus Cullen.

She opened her mouth to say something, seemed to think better of it, and reached for a heavy furred lined dressing robe hanging near the mantle.

"He's gone too far this time!" She declared mysteriously as she tugged her robe fiercely around her.

"My lady Inquisitor?" Cullen queried, his voice sounding a tad shrill even to his own ears. He'd never seen her so furious, and he refused to admit he was vaguely cowed by her.

She ignored him completely and threw the door of her chamber wide open.

"Lieutenant Harrow!" She bellowed into the hall, her voice impressively terrifying. Cullen had never imagined someone so small could be so loud.

The scrape of furniture and the heavy clap of armored boots were almost instantaneous. A few moments later a winded young man stood before them at full attention, taking in his Commander's presence with poorly concealed surprise. Cullen watched as the Lieutenant, likely a new promotion as he only barely recognized him, took in his Mistress's disheveled appearance and blushed. He caught his Commander's glare and swallowed, standing straight as a board.

"Your Wor-"

"Is Varric still within the Keep?" The Inquisitor demanded.

"N-No Your Worship, he left for town not three hours ago."

Cullen watched as her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Of course he did," she ground out. "I want him brought to me the moment he returns."

"Yes, Your Wor-"

"What in Maker's name is going on?" Cullen demanded, his patience gone.

The Inquisitor turned to him and he almost regretted his outburst. She fluttered the letter between them like a weapon. "Verric wrote this, bastard must have sent it off the day after we managed to wrestle this place out from under the bandits."

Cullen frowned, more confused than ever. "Are you sure? Why would he-"

"Oh, I'm sure. And I don't know why, but I intend to find out." There was something about the way her eyes shied away from his, and the fascinating flush that crept up her chest, that indicated she wasn't being completely honest with him

Cullen took a moment to process this. Was Varicc a traitor? That didn't seem likely, but one never knew-

"What is going on up here?!" Cassandra demanded, huffing her way up the steps. "I heard your screeching half way across the keep-"

The Inquisitor shoved the letter at her, "Varric's handy work!"

The Seeker frowned and quickly read the contents. Her face went through a fascinating array of expressions before eventually settling on a mixture of fury and disgust. She looked between Cullen and the Inquisitor, understanding blossoming. Cullen shifted his feet, suddenly mortally embarrassed.

"That-that… rouge. If he did this as some sort of prank I will have his head."

"Not if I have it first," the Inquisitor growled in a rare show of violence. Cullen got the sense that he was missing some important bits of information.

Maker, he wished he knew what in Thedas was going on.

He was on the verge of demanding some answers, but their typically demure little Inquisitor was on a rampage.

"Lieutenant, see to Commander Cullen's comfort and ensure that his men are well looked after. We should have room in the stables as well, make sure that Curtis feeds and settles their horses down."

"Yes Your Worship!" The young Lieutenant said, snapping a perfect salute, and stepped further down the hall to wait for his charge.

Cullen looked between the two women before understanding dawned. He was being dismissed.

"Er, I'll uh, see you in the morning then… My Lady."

She all but slammed the door in his face.

Cullen stood in the hall, still soaking wet, with Cassandra beside him. He stood there for several long moments trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Cassandra sighed and patted his shoulder, steering him down the hall. "Don't worry. She'll remember her manners after she calms down."

Cullen could do little more than shake his head in disbelief. He was completely wrung out. He'd ridden at a break neck pace for two days, barely eating, barely sleeping, a complete mess. He briefly considered the possibility that he was hallucinating. No, he was in far too much discomfort to be dreaming, he concluded.

"So," Cassandra remarked lightly as they stepped from the tower and into the drafty halls outside. "You heard she was injured… and rode all the way here yourself, hum?"

"Not another damn word Cassandra."

If she had laughed he might have hit her, as it was she hid a smile behind a cough and Cullen pretended not to notice.

The Inquisitor took much of the following day to remember her manners. Cullen had the sneaking suspicion that she was avoiding him more than anything else, however.

Rather that dither about in his rooms like a lost puppy, Cullen made himself useful but inspecting their men and reviewing the keep's fortifications. It was no Skyhold of course, but it would do nicely he concluded as he oversaw the movement of several newly repaired ballista to the ramparts. The storm from the previous night had settled into a bleak drizzle, annoying but harmless.

Cullen walked the parapets, surveying the depressing landscape and feeling listless but attempting not to appear so. He paused at the northern battlements to lean against the crenels and frown at the Fade Rift in the distance. The lake glowed green, a strangely lovely but chilling effect that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

He let his mind wander and it eventually led to where it did so often these days; the Inquisitor.

According to the few soldiers who had witnessed the event, she had broken into the keep like a vengeful demon with Verric, Cassandra, and Blackwall at her back, managing to uproot them all in under a few hours. Apparently there had been reports of raped women and murdered children in the villages and their little Inquisitor had made it her mission to eradicate them from Thedas completely. Cullen couldn't fault her judgment, but he wondered at her need to save just about everyone she came across. It was the sort of thinking that got a person killed, however noble and heroic their intentions might be. And a dead hero wasn't of much use to anyone. Cullen cringed at the thought and shook his head. That wasn't honest or fair. It was more than that, he just wasn't sure if he was ready to admit how much more. They were in the middle of a war for Maker's sake and he couldn't let himself be distracted.

Verric arrived around noon and was immediately snatched up by Cassandra before Cullen could corner the dwarf himself. He'd gotten no more answers from Cassandra than he had the night before. The Seeker had never been terribly good at lying or keeping secrets, it sort of clashed with her profession, so she mostly avoided him as well. He had to comfort himself with the knowledge that if it had been anything serious they would have clued him in by now. He hoped.

It was near sunset when Varric found him as he addressed a few of the new recruits who'd begged him for stories from Kirkwall. Normally he would have refused but, in all honesty, it gave him something to do.

The dwarf looked deeply uncomfortable. Like a scolded child forced to apologize but not at all contrite.

"I uh," he cleared his throat, working his face into an almost convincing expression of shame. Cullen wasn't buying it. "I'm sorry if my report made the Inquisitor's condition seem more serious than it was. Guess I've spent too much time writing fictitious novels, you know, building the drama for effect…"

Cullen glared, crossing his arms over his chest, "You do realize this cost me precious time at Skyhold fortifying our defenses, don't you?"

Verric gave him a self deprecating smile and extended his hands in a supplicating gesture. "I'm real sorry Commander, it won't happen again. I've been officially forbidden from writing reports ever again."

Cullen still had the sense he was missing something important but he gave a curt nod, "You'll have sentry duty for a month when you get back."

The dwarf groaned miserably and looked very contrite, which made Cullen feel a bit better about the whole ordeal. The Inquisitor requested his presence in her rooms for a private dinner shortly thereafter, which took the wind out of his sails a bit.

Maker, the woman put him on edge.

He never knew what she was going to do or say next and she made his damned palms sweat. He spent an inordinate amount of time combing his unruly hair into submission before making his way up the tower. Josephine would have accused him of primping and he shuddered at the thought.

The Inquisitor seemed on her best behavior, however. She made her apologies, clearly embarrassed by her behavior the night before, until he had to laugh and assure her that all was well. He should have been perturbed, but he wasn't, not truly. Despite everything waiting for him back at Skyhold he had to admit it was nice to be away, out in the field again, even if only for one more night.

The Inquisitor poured them both some wine and served him dinner herself, though he'd protested. It seemed inappropriate to have her serving him in any capacity, but when he told her as much she'd only laughed at him. It was a deep, husky laugh that bubbled up from her belly and warmed him down to his toes. Despite everything, he soon found himself at ease, his nervousness all but forgotten. She had that effect on people.

"Did Josephine solve her rat problem?" The Inquisitor asked after a small but comfortable lull in their conversation. It was several hours into the night with the fire burning low, leaving Cullen feeling more relaxed than he had in months. He might have felt guilty, what with so much left undone, but he was distracted by the way the warm light gave her skin a healthy golden glow, and he was partially entranced by the way she absently traced one of her long, elegant fingers over the rim of her wine glass. It was strange to think that those fingers, so small, so slight, could shape nations, could mold destinies.

He cleared his throat a bit and grinned, "Not before they got into her desk and messed all over everything. You would have thought the entire castle was collapsing, the fuss she made."

The Inquisitor chuckled, that same deep sound that made his heart stutter.

"Sounds like Josie alright," she said, eyes glittering over the edge of her wine glass as she drained it.

Cullen blamed the wine, he'd had several glasses by then, as he watched her lick her lips, catching a gleaming drop from the corner of her mouth like a cat after too much cream. His breath caught and his fingers clenched reflexively against the arm of his chair. She must have heard because her expression changed suddenly, deepened. The atmosphere grew heavy, charged, and expectant between one breath and the next.

"Cullen," she said and her voice was husky and unsure. The sound of her speaking his name, void of restraining titles, made his blood sing and he tried to think of something, anything to say.

The moment was ruined by a sharp rap on the door.

They both jumped, and Cullen was glad to see he wasn't the only one who was blushing. The Inquisitor set her glass aside and cleared her throat. Her features became schooled, calculated. She was learning, he realized. Learning how to wear a mask for others. Despite understanding the necessity of such masks, it made Cullen a bit sad. She hadn't asked for this life, but the entire world, himself included, kept thrusting it at her without mercy, forcing her to become their talisman against monsters and demons alike. Perhaps that was why she seemed so suited to it. His father had told him once, when he'd been too young and headstrong to listen or care, that those who sought power were typically the least worthy to hold it. Cullen hadn't understood then, but experience had shown him the terrible wisdom of those words.

"Come in," she called, and Cullen straightened, attempting to behave as though nothing had happened. Nothing had of course, but as he caught the Inquisitor's brief, sidelong look, he wasn't so sure. Something had passed between them, there was no point in denying it, he only hoped they could move past it. They had to. Then why did the thought make his chest hurt and his stomach clench?

Lieutenant Harrow stepped nervously inside. The young soldier's eyes darted between them and Cullen could already hear the rumors that would be running through the halls before the sun rose. Maker, they would probably beat him back to Skyhold.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Your Worship, but there are refugees at the gates and Seeker Cassandra said you would wish to see them."

The Inquisitor nodded and stood, the picture of decorum. "Yes of course, thank you Lieutenant."

Lieutenant Harrow bowed to her and saluted Cullen, who managed a nod, before ducking awkwardly out of the door.

The Inquisitor turned toward him, something like regret in her eyes. "Thank you for a wonderful evening... Commander."

And just like that the walls were back up between them. Cullen swallowed back his sudden rush of disappointment. It was for the best, he knew. They were toeing a dangerous line and neither of them could afford the distraction. He stood and bowed in his turn, unable to quite meet her gaze, afraid of what he might see there.

But she gave him the shadow of a smile, something unreadable in her expression, and left him to finish his wine alone. He stood there for a long, quiet moment, alone with the ghost of her presence. He said her name, not her title, to the empty air. It felt almost like a sacrament.

Damn did he hate it when Leliana was right.

When he rode out early the next morning, the sun just peaking over distant mountains, the acidic lump he'd rode in with had been replaced by a sunken feeling in his belly. As though he was leaving some important piece of himself behind.

He blamed the Inquisitor.

A/N. Took the '?' out at the end of the first chapter just for you ashleyslife. ;)