A/N: Sorry for the delayed posting. Life happened, then midterms, then more life. How dare reality get in the way of Cullen-fic!

3.

Holy pigeon crap it was cold!

The wind whipped the hair from under her hood and into her eyes as Sybilla struggled up the hillside, her legs sinking deeper and deeper into the snow. She ached – her whole body ached and fatigue was starting to settle in, but Sybilla clung to the pain. In this weather, pain was welcome. It was the growing numbness in her toes and fingers she worried about.

Another howl sounded in the distance and Sybilla glanced back into the darkness, her view obscured by heavy snowfall. They were closer now and if she didn't find the survivors soon, those wolves would have an easy meal at her expense. She paused for only a moment more before turning her attention back to the task at hand.

She had spotted another campsite in the distance, but held out hope that it wouldn't be cold like the others. Snow crunched beneath her as she sank into another crusty bank, stumbling into the drift. The campsite was just beyond her reach, but it was enough to see the tiny embers left glowing in the darkness, to imagine she felt the heat on her face instead of her damp hood. She was close. She had to keep going. She be damned if those wolves picked her off without even a fight.

Picking herself out of the snow, Sybilla trudged onward, her steps jerky and awkward, her will ebbing. It was only when she crested the rise that she saw the fires in the distance. Her knees gave out beneath her and she collapsed heavily into the snow. Shouting could barely be heard over the wind and in the distance she saw figures approaching. Sybilla couldn't help but smile tiredly as they approached.

"Maker's breath, you made it!" Cullen's voice was strained, breathless. Leliana and Cassandra followed on his heels, concern on their faces.

He took one look at her and picked her up, shedding his overcoat and bundling her against him in one smooth movement. He was warm against her skin and she ignored the hardness of his cuirass, welcoming the pain instead. She was alive. And she had made it. The realization that she had finally got into the commander's overcoat did not escape her before falling into a light doze.

She was awakened instantly as they returned to camp. Cullen burst into the command tent and set her down by a roaring fire while Leliana and Cassandra arrived with armfuls of blankets. Josephine followed in short order with a steaming mug and tut-tutted at Sybilla when she reached for it.

"We must get you out of those wet clothes first." Her voice was stern and before Sybilla could argue, had she the energy, Josephine set upon her like a mother hen. Before she knew it, Sybilla was as naked as the day she was born and then bundled inside an absurd amount of blankets, a mug of hot cider in her stiff fingers.

Sybilla sighed at the attention, too tired to be annoyed, yet glad for the assistance. It had been a long evening and an even longer night. All she wanted was to sip her cider, maybe add a bit of whiskey, and warm up. However, she couldn't help but notice that Cullen was still in the tent and chatting with Cassandra, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. It seemed he was as surprised by Josephine's stripping intervention as Sybilla was and had turned his back for privacy a bit too late. Sybilla was too tired to care what he saw, but she wasn't too tired to admire the view. The commander should turn his back more often.

o O o

The door creaked loudly as Sybilla pushed against it, grumbling about the dilapidated state of Skyhold despite its sturdy walls. She stumbled unceremoniously into his office, the very model of organized chaos. Cullen was bent over his desk, shuffling through his papers, but his attention turned immediately to her and Sybilla felt her cheeks heat.

"Your door – the hinges could use some oil."

"Making the rounds, I see?" Cullen's lip curled into a slight grin.

"One of my many newfound duties." Sybilla agreed, absently taking in the scene around her. An enormous oaken desk dominated the room, topped with paperwork, missives, and candles, its filigreed border chipped and flaking. Two large bookcases lined the far war, absent the thin layer of dust that coated the floor, heavy with the same books and scrolls that also rested on the room's singular chair. It was a practical arrangement, she would give him that. However, it was the incredibly tall and inconveniently placed ladder which drew her attention.

Cullen shuffled his papers again and watched her from the corner of his eye as Sybilla moved around the room. She peered up the ladder and into the rays of sunshine and foliage above.

"You're making use of the room above? Storage perhaps? Your personal armory? An herb garden?"

He set his papers aside and grunted in response. "My quarters."

She balked at that. "You can't be serious."

He simply nodded in response.

"What? No." This would not do at all. An odd rush of indignation filled her. The commander of her armies would not reside in such squalor. She was climbing up the ladder and in his newly established quarters before Cullen could voice any disapproval.

Once more she surveyed the scene around her, shaking her head at the gaping hole in the ceiling, a creeping vine growing into the crumbling stonework. She heard the telltale sign of the commander and his heavy footfalls as he made his way up the ladder after her.

"You can't be serious," she stated again.

Cullen righted himself beside her and followed her gaze into the blue sky above. "I find it rather calming. And the view is spectacular."

Sybilla bit her lip at the last. She knew he was baiting her. And he was indeed correct. The view from his quarters into the valley below was quite lovely, but the sticking point remained. "You do realize that it snows in the mountains, Cullen."

"Of course, Sybilla, but not all of us have grand fireplaces in our quarters and grand artistry decorating the ceiling above."

Sybilla hid a smile at his remark, doing her best to maintain a serious façade. "So you've been in my quarters, have you Cullen?"

"Well, I –" he mumbled inaudibly under his breath. "I saw the plans that Josephine had drawn up."

"Mm-hmm." A smile lit her face as she watched, fascinated by the rising color in his cheeks.

"I happen to like the creeping vine. I think it adds ambience."

"It will destroy the stonework."

"Perhaps," he shot a glance toward her, catching her amused gaze. "But not everything in my quarters is that fragile."

It was Sybilla's turn to flush, the warmth on her face pooling in other, less visible parts of her body. Perhaps her commander was not as puritanical as he pretended to be. A wild flood of abandon surged through her veins and she took a step toward him, her breath hot against his neck as she whispered: "I look forward to finding out."