I stare at the sword, laid flat and running the length of my desk: a golden hilt, reflected in the moonlight; the silverite blade polished and sharpened to perfection. So simple in its design, and yet intricate only when you really stop to gaze upon the thin, delicate engraving of the Inquisition's heraldry inset into the metal.

"Shit..."

Absently, I wander towards the open windows of my quarters. A surprisingly warm wind dances through as I stare down at the courtyard below. The doors to the grand hall are thrown open, and the sounds of a particularly joyous gathering can be heard coasting through the jovial night. And why shouldn't they be happy? The Inquisition now has an Inquisitor, a Herald, and a role-model. Not only that, but the whole realm of Thedas now has hope for better days and more blue skies, rather than the fade-torn green some had become accustomed to seeing.

But what of the woman who had been ambushed into being that hope, that Inquisitor? Solas had convinced me to lead the refugees through the mountains to here, Skyhold, our new home. Any scout could have headed that pack while I recovered from the injuries I'd sustained at Haven, but the people needed their Herald. So, I obliged. I silenced my pain long enough to get us here, and long enough to transform myself-unknowingly-into something more than just the Herald of Andraste.

Once in Skyhold, I finally allowed my wounds to be attended to. When I was found able to walk again, Cassandra ambushed me on my first hobbling stroll about the grounds. As we spoke, she led me up the main steps, stopping at the landing which looked out over nearly the whole yard. Those bastards asked me to be Inquisitor with every eye-every Maker-damned eye-turned to us! Josephine informed the refugees, Cullen rallied the troops, and I was made to observe as hundreds of people became one single body, united under one ideal, one symbol, and one Inquisitor.

I had to accept! I had to kneel and receive the sword Leliana offered, then stand as others bowed, saluted, and recognized my position. In the moment, I was on a high. Now, standing alone in my quarters, I can't help but feel sick.

A knock comes from my door. "Inquisitor?"

"Maker..." I mumble, running a hand over my face. "Who is it?"

"Commander Cullen, your worship."

This gets my attention, enough to where I bother crossing the room and leaning at the top of the stairs. "Come in."

The door opens timidly, my blond Commander glancing around before locating my frame. He is still in his finery from the party-a dashing blue shirt and pair of black trousers. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I was simply sent to inquire about your health."

"Were you, now? Well..." I run a hand through my hair, ruffling it about. "Tell me, how are the festivities?"

"Tiring." He confesses before realizing what he has said. Brown-gold eyes widen. "I mean, it seems all are occupied and content, of course! Warden Blackwall even...um-I simply-"

"Grand parties are not your favorite, I take it?" I chuckle at his endearing stuttering.

Finally, Cullen smiles gently. "No, my lady."

"Well, it just so happens they are not mine, either. Shall we be hermits together, then?" Rather than wait, I leave him at the stairs while I return to my desk, procuring two glasses and a bottle of wine from the shelf behind. Then, I retreat to the balcony, sitting down at the small table out there.

Cullen joins me after a moment, content to linger in the doorway until I offer him a glass of wine. This seems to set him at ease, and he sits down in the opposite chair.

"Are you feeling well?" He inquires after a moment of reverence regarding the heavens above. The moon has just begun rising over the mountains, bathing the balcony in pale light.

"The pain comes and goes." I confess, adjusting to place most of my weight onto my left hip. "I won't be able to wear my armor for a while, or spar. Maker, even getting dressed is unpleasant, but not impossible."

"I've cracked a rib before, and I must say it never caused so much pain as to hinder daily routine."

My eyebrow raises, suddenly suspecting that a bit of misinformation has been threaded through the refugees. "What has Leliana been telling everyone about my injuries? She was very careful to let only the healer see me."

Cullen appears confused, then takes a sip of his wine, regarding the moon over the rim of his cup. "Her official report was a cracked rib and awful headache."

I snort, savoring the sweet Ferelden wine. "Oh, is that all?"

"I gather your injuries are far worse?"

"Three or four ribs, and my left wrist is swelling." To prove my point, I roll up the sleeve of my tunic and show the blue-grey color peppering the skin around my wrist. "You don't want to see the rest."

"Maker..." Cullen's eyes widen, leaning forward to examine the wound. With an absent gesture he takes up my wrist, running gentle fingers along the sensitive skin. "What transpired at Haven...I won't allow that to happen again."

"If you begin blaming yourself," I warn him in jest, attempting to ignore his innocent caresses. "I will have you placed on bed rest for a week, with some excuse such as 'strained health'. Haven was hardly a fortress, Commander. No one could have been prepared for what we faced."

"But now we have a fortress, and the Inquisition can be prepared, be it against an Archdemon or otherwise." His fingers hover against my pulse. "You were almost lost in Haven. That moment when you tumbled from the blizzard...I was-we were all relieved."

Cullen's error does not go unmissed, nor does the blush tinging my cheeks. Moonlight bathes his gaze-still observing my wrist-in a pale shade, lending more gold to his eyes than I've ever noticed, and the scar of his upper lip appears gentle now, rather than deep and foreboding.

The silence lingers, in which I find myself staring until his touch finds a particularly tender spot and I hiss, catching his hand.

"Forgive me!" Cullen freezes, looking unwilling to move lest he harm me again.

"It's fine," I insist, giving a soft smile and allowing his touch to linger for a moment too long. Releasing his warm hand, I take another drink of wine to cull the rapid beating of my heart. "Regardless, I cannot blame our Spymaster for her dishonesty with my injuries. I'm the Inquisitor now," My words come off with more of an edge than intended. "I cannot be so human as to be wounded; it would be unacceptable for the people to see me in such a state. But give me a small injury and I am relatable."

Cullen sets his wine down and regards me with an intense gaze, equal parts serious and penetrating. "You are not pleased with your title?"

It takes a long moment before I feel ready to respond honestly. "You wish me to confide in you, my military advisor and subordinate? Pray tell, where is the professionalism in that, Commander?"

"There is absolutely none, Inquisitor." He confesses, then smirks. "But, as I recall, professionalism has never been in your best interest before."

I frown, wholly disapproving of his offer, but not for the reasons we have discussed. In a final attempt to shake his inquiries, I make a small request that is sure to deter him. "If you are truly interested in my opinions and person, then I must say that I will confide to no one but he whom I consider a friend. And, as unprofessional as it may be, friends do not use titles."

The commander leans back in his chair, keeping eye contact through the motion. What I find in the golden eyes startles me, his answer apparent even before it is spoken. "Of course, Hollyn. I understand."

This shocks me. Truly, I am without words for the next few heartbeats, although what really seizes my throat is not how easily Cullen broke the wall of formalities between us, but how quickly I step amongst the rubble and accept its absence. This casual air that now descends over the balcony is comfortable, and feels right. It terrifies me.

"Cullen..." I mean to continue my thought but instead my lips merely test the feel of his name amongst them. "Um...I don't..."

"Perhaps I should not have been so forward." He apologizes, a blush tinting his cheeks, although his tone does not waver.

"You weren't!" I assure him, running a hand through my hair in frustration as I grasp at some unintelligible thing that seems to be slipping through my fingers. "It is simply that...I cannot tell you the last time I confided my worries to someone. It must have been when I was was twelve or thirteen and the Dalish took me in."

Cullen chuckles the way he does whenever he is about to speak of himself: a deep rumble that lifts the scarred side of his mouth enough to take away five years of stress and age, transforming him to the hesitant and inexperienced chantry boy that is hidden underneath all that militaristic strategy and confidence. "Perhaps we share more common ground than you expect."

I laugh slightly. "Is this the moment where we discover that one another hasn't had a true friend in years, and we suddenly find ourselves talking into the late hours of the night, telling pointless tales and simple secrets until the sun rises?"

Cullen shrugs, leaning his elbows onto his knees and clasping his hands in front of him, a surprisingly nonchalant move given his habit to worry and fret. "Only if you wish."

"Is that what you want?"

Golden eyes suddenly pass through some unrecognizable emotion, the corners of his mouth turning down for a mere second. "I-I believe so." I hold his gaze until he concedes with a more straightforward answer. "Yes."

"Hm..." Then, I turn to the moon, which has now risen above the mountain, making its presence known to all of Skyhold. The festivities still carry on below us, never having wavered once while we sat here in turbulent and uncertain change. "I've no clue what I'm doing."

"Neither do I." Cullen confesses.

"Fair enough..." I take a deep breath. "When I was younger, my sister Serina and I used to roam the marketplace of the city we grew up in, marveling at the travelers and merchants that peddled their wares along the street corners." A smile lifts my mouth. "There was this one time..."

A/N: And so the intrigue truly begins, gently, if a little sudden. Thank-you for reading! Feedback is appreciated.