Cullen stood from his cot in his tent. He sat back down on it. He stood again.

Even from his tent outside of the walls of Haven, he could hear the music and the whoops of celebration emanating from the tavern. He knew what had happened; the Inquisitor had ventured to the Fallow Mire and rescued some of their men from an Avvar leader. Not only had she rescued the soldiers, but she had somehow also managed to recruit an Avvar that called himself Sky Watcher.

Cullen stood back down again. He would have asked the Inquisitor how she had managed to recruit an Avvar, but she had not spoken to him since their outburst about her being tailed as she ventured outside of Haven. That had been almost two weeks ago. Normally he would have apologized, offered some kind of peace making gift, maybe, but every time he saw her she scuttled in the opposite direction.

The Commander assumed that she was still angry. And why shouldn't she be? He had basically said he thought she was too shallow to stay and complete menial Inquisition tasks, even if that wasn't quite what he had meant.

He sighed, ruffling his hair with his gloved hand. A third of his troops were sleeping, the other third keeping guard, and the final third celebrating at the tavern, he supposed. Perhaps it was time that he joined them. The Inquisitor had accused him of something during their small argument - or maybe she hadn't accused him of anything, but she had called him out on the time that he spent with his men. Or, really, there lack thereof.

He was a good Commander. He knew his troops liked him and respected him; they had just never seen him cut loose or join them in the tavern. He knew how much having a likeable head officer could affect morale (also, a tiny bit of him wanted to show the Inquisitor that yes, he was capable of joining his men at the tavern) so Cullen opened the flap of his tent, heading out into the cold and dark night air.

"Commander," one of the troops on watch greeted him as she stood near the fire, trying to warm her hands. "Heading somewhere?"

"Yes, ah, to the tavern," Cullen said with a nod, trying to ignore the look on the woman's face. "I will return within an hour or so, before the next group needs to be awoken for their watch shift."

"Very good, Commander," the woman said. He could have swore he saw her smiling as she turned away.

The trek up to the tavern wasn't long, but it was long enough to give him time to think about turning around once or twice. He eventually made it, though, and saw a dark shape standing outside of the tavern. Even though the lighting was dim, the trademark silhouette of the padded armor and beard made recognizing the Grey Warden easy.

"Ah! Commander Cullen!" Blackwall called cheerfully, clapping Cullen on the shoulder as he approached the tavern's door. "Good to see you!"

"Yes, thank you," he said, trying to judge whether or not Blackwall had been drinking. He didn't smell of beer; only of the smoke from Harritt's smithy. "I thought I would join in the, ah, festivities-"

"As you should. You're part of the Inquisition," Blackwall said thoughtfully. He opened the tavern's door and gestured for Cullen to head inside. "I'm not drinking, myself, but I found some good would-be drinking companions if you're interested in partaking, Commander."

"Ah, no, I-" Cullen said awkwardly as the Grey Warden ushered him inside. It was very warm within the tavern, which was stuffed wall to wall with bodies. His eyes instantly caught someone with bright hair - the Inquisitor was sitting on a bench between the Iron Bull and Sera, sporting a black eye but grinning like she hardly noticed it. Her hands were clapped around a too-large tankard on the table in front of her.

"Oi," Blackwall said, tapping a recruit on the shoulder. The recruit looked up, squinting in the candlelight. "Make room for the Commander. He's joining us."

"That's not necessary, I can-"

"Nonsense, you should join us," Blackwall said, urging Cullen to take the now-vacant spot on the bench that was directly across from Sera. "You have to take the spot across from Sera, I'm afraid. My shins can't take much more of her incessant kicking."

Cullen sat down rather ungracefully, rocking the bench that had been placed on one side of the long table. Flissa came twirling by, supporting a tray full of tankards, one of which she placed in front of Cullen. "First one's on the house," she said with a wink. "Inquisitor's treat."

He glanced over at the Inquisitor, who suddenly launched herself into a very animated discussion with Bull. Cullen's gaze went to the dark liquid in the cup set before him, the loud conversations around him making his ears buzz. It was very loud, very warm, he was very close to everyone-

"Hey, are you gonna drink that?"

Maybe coming had been a bad idea. The Inquisitor looked like she could care less that he was there; some of his recruits were pointing and giving him encouraging smiles, but certainly no one was-

Sera kicked his shin. "Hey! I said, are you gonna drink that?"

He looked up, sliding the tankard over to the elven woman. She took it with her slender hands, gulping it down with an impressive speed. "Hey, now," Bull said, reaching over to grasp the tankard's handle. He tugged it from her grasp. "You've got to go back to the Fallow Mire tomorrow, remember? I don't need to wade through the bog and your puke."

"Hey!" Sera scrambled to her feet and a mock chase ensued around the tavern as Sera climbed over table and chair (and people) to try and reclaim her tankard from Iron Bull, who looked quite pleased with himself as he played keep-away.

Various people in the tavern picked teams, some trying to sabotage Bull by standing in his way and others bumping into Sera as she followed him around the room. Cullen watched them for a moment, before turning back around in his seat. Unfortunately, as he was turning, he managed to catch Margol's eye unintentionally.

There was an awkward silence he felt obligated to try and fill. Cullen cleared his throat. "Congratulations on your successful outing to the Fallow Mire, Inquisitor."

"Thank you," she said with a small nod, lifting her tankard to her mouth.

They sat for several minutes, Cullen unable to think of anything else to say. Margol seemed intent on avoiding his eye contact, even though he was stealing glances at her as she gazed down into her tankard. Eventually Blackwall, who had been enraptured by the Sera/Bull chase, turned his attention back to the small group left at their table.

"The Inquisitor has been helping me locate some Grey Warden artifacts," Blackwall said casually. "We're returning to the Fallow Mire tomorrow with the hope of finding another one."

"There's also an apostate in the area that we think has been possessed by some kind of demon," the Inquisitor said quickly. "We're not making a trip solely to pick up some Grey Warden items."

"It would be fine if you were. The trips are yours to plan as you see fit," Cullen said quietly. "I trust your judgment."

The Inquisitor only nodded and continued to be very interested in whatever was in her tankard.

Blackwall cleared his throat. "So! Commander, the troops are looking very nice. I was watching you practice in the yard earlier," he said. "Was wondering if you ever needed any help. I'd be glad to teach whatever odd bits I've picked up over the years. When I get back from the Fallow Mire, of course."

"I would be appreciative of whatever insights you could bring," Cullen said, watching Margol out of the corner of his eye. She stood suddenly, her tankard clanging loudly as she almost tipped it over.

"I'm going outside," she announced, a bit unsteady as she hopped over the bench. "It's too warm in here. Keep an eye on my tankard, will you, Blackwall?"

"Sure," he said with a nod. Both Cullen and the Grey Warden watched her as she left, slipping through a side door out into the cold black night.

Blackwall waited a few seconds, then elbowed Cullen in the ribs. It didn't hurt because he was still wearing his armor, but it got his attention. "I think," Blackwall said slowly, cocking his head toward the door. "She wants you to follow her."

"What?" Cullen asked, already standing. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Blackwall said with a low chuckle. "Go, lad. I'll save your seats."

Cullen nodded, making a beeline to the side door. Some of his recruits greeted him as he walked through the crowd; he gave them smiles and a nod, but could not be deterred in his quest to reach the exit. Finally, he made it to the door and pushed it open. It took his eyes a second to adjust to the dark, but when they did he saw that Blackwell had been correct; it looked like she had expected him.

"Blackwall suggested that I… well. He's a smart man, Blackwall."

"Yes," the Inquisitor agreed with a small smile. "He is."

He watched as she took a few steps, before somehow hopping up on the low stone barrier that separated the lower portion of Haven from the upper part where the Chantry sat. Cullen could feel his eyebrows raise; inside she had nearly stumbled over a bench, but out here she seemed as graceful as ever.

He leaned against the wall near her, his back pressed against the barrier she sat upon. Her lungs swung gently near his right shoulder. For a few minutes they were like this; Cullen watched thick snowflakes swirl down onto the ground.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I've been avoiding you," the Inquisitor said finally.

He could think of a thousand appropriate, mechanical responses he could give her. A straight apology, a formal one, a "beg your pardon" or some other ridiculous statement he had been taught to repeat. But he watched the snowflakes swirl and it seemed like they were utterly alone in the darkness, even though the tavern was a stone's throw away, and he could not stop the truth from tumbling out. "I was avoiding you as well, I suppose," Cullen said after a few seconds. "I thought you would yell at me in front of my troops again. I didn't want them to see the Herald of Andraste being furious with their commander."

She laughed. "I wasn't angry at you," she explained. "I was embarrassed. And ashamed. I acted like a cranky child. I mean, I act like a cranky child a lot of the time, but this time it was particularly inappropriate and rude of me."

Cullen sucked in a breath before sighing. "I… we were both out of line," he amended. He kicked off of the wall, moving so that he could face her. Well, kind of face her - she was still a good three feet higher than the top of his head. "I apologize, Inquisitor."

"Me, too, Commander."

He held his hand up to her. She tipped forward, catching his hand as she fell a short ways and used it to support herself on her landing. "You can call me Cullen, you know," he said after a moment, watching her straighten herself. The candlelight caught her face; her black eye jumped out at him, but he also noticed some curved scars on her jawline and cheek for the first time.

"And you can call me Margol, instead of Inquisitor," she informed him.

"Margol, then," he said with a small smile, nodding. After a second, he gestured to her black eye. "Is that the work of the Avvar leader that you fought?"

"Ah, no," she laughed again, looking sheepish. "It's from Bull, actually."

"What?"

"I… it's embarrassing," she admitted, looking down at her feet. "Sera and I have this game… 'pin the tail on the Bull.' We're trying to see who can attach a fake bull tail to him first. He can't notice and he can't take it off for at least ten minutes."

Cullen stared, then laughed. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've heard."

"You obviously need to hang out in the tavern more, otherwise this would be the least ridiculous thing you've heard," Margol said, smiling now. He could practically see her settling into story-telling mode as she went on. "So, the Iron Bull was sleeping on his bedroll, no tent. Sleeping stomach down. I thought it was the perfect opportunity to finally win the game."

"He woke?" Cullen guessed.

"He woke," she confirmed. "And turned around real fast and his elbow landed on my face really hard."

"You were lucky. I imagine many others wouldn't have an eye after being elbowed by a Qunari," Cullen said, crossing his arms over his chest as they stood.

She shrugged, holding up her marked hand. He could barely make out a very faint, greenish glow on her palm. "I think it's because of this," she said, inspecting her palm carefully. "It makes me stronger, I think. Hardier? I don't know. But I seem to heal faster and it takes more hits to knock me down."

"A surprising benefit, but I suppose it's a welcome one."

"If you need anything risky and stupid done any time soon, I'm your woman," she smiled and let her hand fall back to her side. A minute passed before anyone spoke again.

Cullen cleared his throat. "You and the Iron Bull seem close."

"I suppose," she agreed after a moment. "He's funny. It's strange, though… sometimes he'll tell a joke and I'll laugh and then I remember that he's a Qunari spy. Makes me wonder if he's actually telling jokes because he wants to or because he knows I like jokes and wants to get closer. More information, you know?"

"That would be unnerving," he agreed. "Yet you've been bringing him with you on a lot of your excursions. You must trust him."

"I do. Also, he's a good fighter. It helps when you have a wall of muscle to stand between you and all your enemies," Margol said with a laugh, then rubbed the back of her neck. "I think some people think I must be insane. I welcome a Qunari spy into our ranks. I managed to convince an Avvar to join us, too. Maybe I have a death wish."

"Or maybe you just recognize that we need as much help as we get."

"Also, I'm still not completely convinced I'm not dreaming or that this is all one weird, prolonged joke. Surprise! You've got a green hand. Surprise! You need to go recruit some mages or templars to help you seal this big rip in the sky… what harm could throwing in an Avvar do in the grand scheme of things?"

He chuckled quietly. "True enough."

After several seconds, she nodded back toward the tavern, an invitation in her green eyes. Cullen began to walk back toward the side door of the tavern, the Inquisitor - Margol - following him.

Things seemed to be in the same state as they had left them, except now the Iron Bull and Sera were back to sitting side-by-side on their bench. Blackwall spotted them and waved them over.

"Welcome back," he said as they sat down, Margol next to Sera and Cullen across from her, next to Blackwall.

Sera studied them for a moment, her face twisting into a sour expression. "Nah, Bull, you're wrong," she said, turning to the Qunari. "They don't look like they've been-"

"So, boss," Bull said, throwing a heavy arm into Sera. She toppled back onto the floor, looking irritated as she righted herself. "Never asked. Where'd you learn to fight? Thought you were some bann's daughter."

"I am a bann's daughter," Margol said with a nod, a sly smile curling up the edges of her mouth. "But everybody has their hobbies, right?"

Blackwall snorted. "Most people's hobbies don't include subterfuge and hiding in shadows, though, do they?"

She smiled, shrugging. "I have to keep some things mysterious. I can't always be an open book to everyone."

They continued to talk for another half hour, mostly Margol and Bull doing the talking and the story-telling. Cullen learned about a few near-death experiences both of them had gotten themselves into during their Inquisition excursions. Those stories made his gut twist; they weren't doing a very good job of keeping their Inquisitor in one piece and out of harm's way.

Eventually, Margol yawned and stretched her arms. "I think I should go to bed," she decided, standing. She turned to look at her companions at the table. "And you all should get to bed soon, too. We're leaving tomorrow morning. I'm not going to delay because you're hungover."

"I think Sera might be the only one that has that problem," Bull said with a snort, using the tip of his boot to nudge the elven woman, who was snoring on the floor.

"I can walk you to your house, if you'd like," Cullen said quietly, standing. "I should return to my post."

Margol nodded. "Only because it's on the way," she said. She patted Iron Bull on the head, between his horns, as she walked by him. "Take care of Sera, would you?"

"Sure thing, Boss."

They left, then, Blackwall raising his tankard (full of water, Cullen assumed, since the Grey Warden had said he did not plan to drink) in recognition as they exited the tavern. It was cold outside and the snow was heavier, falling at an angle with a persistently chilling wind.

"We had interesting visitors the other day," Cullen said as they walked along. He could see the Inquisitor's house in the distance; she had apparently left a lantern burning outside that cast some light upon the place. "Some Hessarian Blades, I believe they called themselves."

"Oh," Margol said, sounding slightly embarrassed. "Yeah. That. Them."

"They said you challenged their leader," Cullen said as they walked. "And now they follow your orders. They said they were grateful. Apparently their former leader was a…"

"A bastard?" she suggested.

"Yes," he said with a small chuckle. "I'm always impressed by your methods of persuasion, Inquisitor."

"Ah, well. Anything sounds impressive when you throw around words like challenged and grateful and bastard," she said breezily, standing on the small stone step that sat beneath her front door. "Some man killed our agents, so I killed him and now his agents are mine."

"That's not what Threnn said," Cullen said after a moment, watching Margol linger at her door. "She said you had to have a specially crafted amulet in order to not be attacked on sight by the Blades. You took the time to do it so you wouldn't have to kill the Blades."

"Okay, so maybe it wasn't just me killing someone," Margol admitted, looking embarrassed. "I just… the Blades, they were following orders. Sounded like they had to. And you should have seen some of then, Cullen. They looked like they were about eighteen. Not even trained warriors - a lot of them looked like they had never held a sword before. How was I supposed to just wipe out all of them because they had bad guidance?"

"Your mercy is admirable. I just hope it doesn't get you killed someday."

"It probably will," Margol said cheerfully as she opened her door, which made Cullen laugh. "Goodnight, Cullen."

"Goodnight, Inquisit-" She gave him a look. "Margol."

The Inquisitor was away for a week, either traveling to the Fallow Mire or rummaging around in the rainy forsaken bog or traveling back to Haven. Cullen wasn't sure of the exact timeline; he just knew that when she returned she looked exhausted as she walked by the group of tents set up outside of Haven, leading her horse by its rein to the stables.

He expected her to go straight to her home as soon as she handed off her mount to Master Dennet, to sleep away her dark circles, but instead she surprised him by making a straight path toward him.

"Welcome back," he said in greeting, lowering his clipboard as she approached. "Was your trip successful?"

"Oh, sure," she said. "It successfully claimed one of my boots."

Cullen's gaze automatically went down to her boots. "An interesting story behind that, I'll bet."

"I was just walking and - squelch," she tried to replicate the sound of mud sucking something under. "I was up to my calf in Fallow Mire sludge. I tried pulling my leg out and it didn't work, so I called Bull over. He hooked his arms underneath my arms and tugged - nope. Still trapped. Finally we decided to just pull it off and leave it."

"Which left you… walking around the Fallow Mire with one boot?"

She shook her head. "Which left me sitting on Bull's shoulder as he walked around the Fallow Mire, trying to find a campsite."

"Unfortunate but entertaining-sounding," Cullen said with a small smile. "Perhaps I should wish for one of my boots to fall in the mud; the bottoms on these are starting to wear thin."

"Oh?" she questioned, looking down at his boots. She said nothing more about them, though, and only yawned after a few seconds. "I think I need to go sleep for about four days. I'll see you later, Cullen."

"Farewell. And welcome back. I said that already, didn't I? Well, welcome back. Again."

She laughed, nodding and waving goodbye as she set off toward her home. "Thanks," she called, and then she was gone. Cullen thought she would go straight to bed and he wouldn't see or hear from her for another day, which is why he was so surprised when he entered his tent later that night to find a new pair of boots sitting on his pillow.