More stuff, I've been reading a lot of cool head canons. I like the idea of a red Lyrium Cullen in the future during In Hushed Whispers. Just hinting at him would have been a cool bit of foreshadowing of what's to come. Anyways, enjoy, comments and reviews are always welcome.

Red eyes, like lava flow in the deep roads, glowing and malicious. She had blinked, turned her head towards Dorian who was yelling at her to run, they had to go back. She tried to look over her shoulder, it had to be a demon, but she wasn't sure. It smiled at her, the monster wearing his face. Then the room's chaos and death was gone, they had returned to before Alexius cast his spell. Her sword was out, at the magister's throat. Isabel had survived, again, she always survived, survived the blight, the conclave, the future. Her sword arm shook, and the mark hummed in her veins, feeling like a thousand needles slowly pressing in. Blind rage, she breathed quickly through her nose. Monster, mage, the way Sera's body had been tossed aside, how Bull, a veritable wall had crashed down, Leliana and her arrows ground to a stop…and his red eyes, they would haunt her dreams.

Allies with the rebel mages, Isabel felt her stomach knot, it was the right call, she knew it in her gut. The Rebel mages having been ruled and closed away for so long needed support and guidance, not another leash. The gross miscalculation by grand enchanter Fiona was proof enough that going from one oppressive and desperate situation to another was the last thing the mages, and Thedas, needed. Still unease gnawed at her, she went over the many valid reasons her decision had been a good one, rehearsed the argument in her mind, she would be reasonable, and calm, and they would understand, he would understand. She ran a gloved hand through her short hair before pulling the chantry door open.

"What were you thinking, turning the mages loose with no oversight? The veil is torn open."

Shit

"We need their cooperation to close the rift. It won't work if we make enemies of them." Isabel reasoned.

"There will be abominations; they could potentially do as much damage as the demons." The Templar still so deeply ingrained into Cullen was talking now, his fears and old prejudices that he tried so hard to let go of, clung to him like dirt. Though it wasn't an untrue statement, the concern was legitimate.

"And there would be fewer abominations if I had left them to Alexius? Or conscripted them to us? Even a nug will lash out if made desperate enough. I allied with them, they need us, we need them. At least in close proximity to one another we can see the problems coming, IF they come, they want to help, they want to show Thedas they don't need to be feared and that they can be trusted. I am inclined to let them prove it." Isabel looked to each of their faces, lingering on Cullen's , challenging him to say more. The long exhaled breath was his surrender. Isabel blinked, and saw red eyes staring back at her, malicious grin marring his usually kind but serious face, Isabel flinched.

"Let's continue this is the war room." Cullen furrowed his brows at her. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine…I'm fine. It's nothing, just a little tired." Isabel ran both hands through her hair, scratching at her scalp, willing what she had seen in Redcliff to leave her. She didn't want to admit to herself how badly it was affecting her.

Three hours and four ales later Isabel was in the tavern staring down the bottom of her glass. Sera sat across from her waving her arms as she told her story. Varric and Blackwall were laughing at whatever she had said.

"Are you even listening? This is gold, and you're mopey , all serious. Enough with the sads already." Sera scowled at her, tapping her on the head.

Isabel swatted the hand away with an annoyed grunt. "Sorry, I'll see you all tomorrow, I have reports to catch up on." She excused herself, downing the last of her drink in two large gulps, ignoring the face Sera made at her.

She was unsteady on her feet, tripping over rocks, and bits of ice. She cursed under her breath when she reached her cabin but the key wouldn't work in the lock.

"Lady Isabel?" Cullen's voice was behind her. "Was there something I could help you with?" He stepped up beside her.

"No, it's fine, I'm fine, my stupid key won't work…" She could feel her cheeks reddening the longer the lock gave her trouble. She didn't want him to see her as she was, slightly drunk and vulnerable. She just wanted her bed.

"No, I don't imagine your key would work on my cabin." Isabel could hear the grin in his voice.

She froze, her blush filling out the rest of her features. "Shit. Umm…my mistake."

Isabel stepped back nearly falling off the low step, Cullen catching her arm to steady her. "One of those days, was it?" He started leading her towards her own cabin.

"Something like that." She mumbled shyly. "Any word from Therenfal Redoubt?" She cleared her throat, hoping to distract from the fact that she couldn't walk a straight line.

"No, still nothing." Cullen steadied her with the lightest of touches on her elbow. The crunch of snow beneath their boots and the muffled and faraway sounds of the tavern were pronounced, accenting the thickness of the silence between them. "Do you trust him? The Tevinter mage? Dorian?"

"I trust that his intentions here are not malicious, and that he's telling the truth. His desire to help seems sincere. After what happened to us…I think he will be an asset, and he's my proof." She climbed the steps of her cabin, sliding the key onto the lock easily.

"Your proof?" Cullen cocked his head to the side, raising an eyebrow.

"That it happened, that this future, and me traveling there wasn't all a bad dream. He saw it too, he confirms my memories, he's my proof." Isabel moved her jacket aside and lifted the cotton tunic exposing hip and stomach, and a large winding scar, pale and old. "This, is proof of the 5th blight, and this." She pulled the glove off her left hand, exposing the mark, casting an eerie green glow over them. "Is proof of the conclave."

"There's a tear in the sky, spend an hour in southern Ferelden and the ravages of the blight are still there on the land, wouldn't that be proof?" Isabel shook her head at him, a sad smile gracing her lips.

"But these prove that the people around me really died, that my friends and family….really did die, and this isn't all in my imagination, I like to think that it's just been a long time, that life got in the way and they just haven't found the time to write, these scars, marks, keep me grounded and out of my head, all those what if's and could have beens can eat you alive. It's nice to have another survivor as my proof this time. I'm glad not everyone died for a change. Does that make sense?" She had been watching the green glow that light up her veins beneath her skin as she spoke, slowly flexing the hand.

"Yes, it makes perfect sense." He took her hand, the glowing one, and squeezed it gently. "I understand." Cullen's own memories bit at the back of his mind.

Isabel squeezed his hand back, despite the cold, the leather gloves he wore were warm, his face was kind, softening the hard edges that made him a commander to be respected and feared. Isabel could smell the metal, and leather, the earthiness of his fur mantel. Under it all was cedar, warm like a hearth, it was distinctly him, and she found she liked it.

"Good night, my Lady." He bent his head towards her and let go of her hand. Isabel let out the short breath she hadn't known she was holding.

She reached out, taking his shoulder as he turned stopping him, "You were there. I saw you there, in the future."

"I was? You never mentioned it in your report." Cullen turned towards her puzzled.

"Only because Dorian didn't see you as well. You….your eyes were glowing red, there was red lyrium growing out of you." Her brow furrowed.

"You mentioned that both Bull and Sera had red eyes from the proximity to the Lyrium, that Fiona herself had been encased in it, while I don't relish the idea of having been captured, it sounds consistent with everything else you reported. " He turned back towards her, he wanted to take her hand in his again, it was clear to Cullen that the events at Redcliff had shaken her. He wanted her to get some rest, the circles under her eyes were worrisome and familiar.

"You were fighting against us…you were wearing Templar armor, Cullen. It was only for a second, right before Dorian pulled us back to the present. I keep thinking it was a trick of the light, or my imagination. It must have been." Saying it out loud made the entire vision seem ridiculous, "I'm sorry…I shouldn't have concerned you with it."

"I'll send another bird to the Templars in the morning. Lady Isabel, I promise you that I would fall on my sword before I would ever betray the inquisition or allow myself to be corrupted by red lyrium. You have my word." He found himself holding bother her hand lightly by the fingers, the alcohol had lowered her inhibitions, he doubted she would have opened up or shown him an ounce of her vulnerability or uncertainty had she been sober. He was glad she had trusted him enough to talk, still the idea of being corrupted by red lyrium turned his stomach.

"There shall be no falling on swords, commander. Do you hear me?" She laughed nervously her thumb brushing over his fingers softly before she withdrew.

"Understood." He chuckled quietly before rubbing at the back of his neck. "Get some rest."

"Good night, Cullen."

"and you Isabel."