Courtesy of the Spymaster, Seeker, Altus, and Ambassador, the candlelight illuminating the garden projected a soft iridescent hue. The flowers, well-tended by the herbalist, were in full bloom, carefully arranged along the exterior of the gazebo. Per explicit orders, the area had been cordoned off for their own personal use this evening. Soft music supplied by Dorian's spell chimed, echoing throughout the space. Despite Cullen's propensity to remain armed and armored at all times, an occasion such as this required finery. Not just any formal attire, but ensembles stitched by the best tailor the Ambassador could hire for both himself and Evelyn. An entire weeks' worth of coin went into making the night possible. Perfectly executed down to the last detail Cullen had envisioned, he prayed more than anything she would say yes. It wasn't that she needed anything lavish or ornate, but that she deserved it. For everything he couldn't offer her without land or a title outside the Inquisition, he wanted to ensure that she had the best of what he could give.

He stood as a gentleman and not a soldier for the purposes of this endeavor. Unlike the garb he wore to the Winter Palace, his finery had appropriate measurements. His coat was white, made of royal silk with red embroidery along the collar and cuffs complementing his gloves and sash which extended from his right shoulder to his left hip. Coupled with a pair of blackened samite breeches and boots, his suit was complete. A quick tap to his pocket confirmed the location of the ring. With his right hand bent at the elbow, placed in front of his jacket, and the left situated behind his back, he straightened his posture, eagerly awaiting the arrival of his lady.

There was no preventing the smile that tugged at his lips when Evelyn came into view. The ball gown she wore was a deep red, custom ordered Highever weave embellished with intricate glass beading along the V cut neckline and the bodice. The detail spanned through the skirt, speckling it like a waterfall. The tailor was worth every gold piece that was paid, as the dress was a perfect fit and conveniently left in their quarters as a gift accompanied by a note that requested her presence. It hugged her form, accentuating the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips before cascading down to the floor. For the first time in his life, Cullen understood why people threw ridiculous amounts of coin on such opulent possessions for these occasions.

Her heels clicked against the stone walkway as she approached. The pounding in his chest beat within his ears and he wiped the sweat off of his brow, hoping she hadn't seen. With every step, she took his breath away. Raven locks twisted and pinned half up draped across her shoulders. Kohl enhanced the blue of her eyes, sparkling amidst the firelight and her crimson lips matched the material. As she took in the atmosphere, she smiled as brightly as the sun shines upon Thedas.

"You look lovely." Cullen bowed.

"Did you do all of this?" Evelyn's eyes widened as she scoured every detail before curtseying in return.

Pride radiated in Cullen's chest at her approval. She loved it.

"I admit, I had some help." With an exaggerated flourish that rivaled any of Dorian's, Cullen extended his hand. "May I have this dance, my Lady?"

"You're offering to dance? Of your own volition, and we aren't even at a ball." Evelyn teased. "Are you unwell?" Her tone changed from playful to serious as a light smile curved at her lips. "I would love to."

Despite the Tevinter's overly critical evaluation of his nonexistent dancing skills, he had learned to avoid stepping on gowns and feet, and could lead even the most clumsy across the dance floor without faltering after months of practice. Remembering Dorian's words, a smirk spanned his features. "A beautiful partner who knows what he's doing can make even the worst dancer look like a master."

Cullen prompted Evelyn to spin as he lifted her arm above her head. Her skirt blossomed like the bottom of a bell with her movements. Upon her return, he pulled her even closer and they danced in comfortable silence, enjoying one another's company under the moonlight that streamed through the gazebo.

He feared his words would fail him. That the turn of phrase sufficient to describe all he felt for this one singular woman did not exist. No matter what he said, it would be inadequate. War raged within his own mind. This is preposterous. You are a soldier, you lead men into battle, formulating a coherent sentence has never been an issue in strategic circumstances. You can give orders, lectures, and rave like a madman when you are passionate about a war operation; get it together Cullen.

But you've never had to explain to a woman that you'd be lost without her. That she's the light that eclipses your darkness. Her mere presence makes you a better man and that you'll strive every day until you take your last breath to be worthy of her. That you've no idea why the Maker saw fit to bless you, of all people, despite the mistakes you've made and the man whose reflection you once abhorred, with someone so warm, encouraging, and full of obnoxious quirks that even at the end of a long day, you cannot help but adore. That she saves you from yourself by being herself. And even if she says no, and it ends your romantic relationship, you still wish to be a part of her life because without her, you are utterly incomplete.

The thoughts in his mind jumbled, turning into a knot of nonsense and he forgot everything. He tried to focus on not stepping on her toes and getting through the dance, but realized they'd been standing there in stilled silence for Maker knew how long. The neurons in his brain fired on overdrive and his mouth rushed ahead without the grand speech he'd prepared. "Marry me," he blurted.

That wasn't even a question!

Evelyn's eyes widened and her mouth gaped. Fear told him that he'd offended her and he almost wanted to take it back. He withdrew his right hand from hers and massaged his neck as his cheeks flushed. He was still standing and if this was going to be a massive failure, he may as well lay it all on the line. The floor dug through his pants and scraped against his knee as he knelt, but he paid it no mind. Amber eyes met blue and he stared, searching for the answer which lie within, waiting on pins and needles for the response he desperately hoped to hear pass her lips.

Time was frozen as an eternity drifted by. It had been a matter of seconds. Evelyn cocked her head to the side. Her smile extended to her eyes as she said "yes" and laughed. He didn't register it at first and he shook his head, positive that she couldn't have agreed to his proposal, to become his wife.

"What?" He questioned without thought.

"I said, yes," Evelyn repeated.

Cullen chuckled. He heard it and it was the sweetest word ever spoken in the King's tongue yet he didn't move from his position. She said yes!

"But, as appreciated as this is, none of it was necessary." She waved her hand to the dramatic display of decorations. "You could have written it on a missive and the answer would have been the same."

Now, why didn't you think of that? Silence filled the air and Cullen stared at her, blinking repeatedly.

"Isn't this the part where we kiss?" Evelyn teased.

Kiss her you fool! "Oh, right." Snapped back to his senses, he lifted her within his arms and pressed their lips together, thanking the Maker for every single thing- including his time in Kinloch- that led him to this point where he had never known such happiness. Maker, the ring! Cullen withdrew the box from his jacket pocket, and shifted off the lid, the nerves wracked him again. What if she doesn't like it?

The ring was a silver band adorned with a center cut diamond surrounded by two rubies on each side. For months, he had Leliana keep an eye out. When she found such treasure and at a price he could afford, Cullen jumped at the opportunity to buy them. With the help of a jewelry merchant in Val Royeaux- courtesy of Josephine-the stones were cut and set into the ring as he'd requested.

"Maker, Cullen! It's stunning!"

It was then he realized how big of a fool he was. She'd agreed before I gave her the ring. He couldn't help the ridiculous smile plastered on his face as he slipped it on her ring finger; a perfect fit. Between Leliana and Josephine, he expected no less.

Evelyn held up her hand admired the quality and positively beamed.

"I've arranged for a private dinner in our quarters. Shall we?" Cullen gestured to the door leading to the main hall. Evelyn giggled excitedly as Cullen snuffed out the candles. "I'll be but a moment."

Though his task delayed him, he opened the door the second it closed behind her. The main hall looked nothing like he left it and Evelyn was nowhere in sight. Black banners and drapes hung in lieu of Evelyn's carefully handpicked decorations. A crowd of people gathered, filling the room to capacity. They surrounded the dais which the Inquisitor's throne sat upon. Cullen pushed through the unrelenting crowd, and tried to catch a glimpse of what had everyone so enraptured.

At first, he mumbled "excuse me" under his breath, but people neither acknowledged him or took heed. An uncomfortable aura loomed and Cullen couldn't quite place where he'd felt this way before. A sense of urgency overtook him and he picked up the pace. Irritated that they weren't listening, he demanded attention, lacing his tone with the ring of command. "Move it! Move it!" Yet, they continued to ignore him. At this point, he nearly shoved them in order to pass.

He finally approached where Evelyn's throne should sit, and instead his heart seized. Breath hitched in his throat and he tried to force air into his lungs. The blood in his veins ran cold as he stared at a copy of himself, not dressed in white, but in black as he addressed the spectators. Stone replaced the throne and the body which laid upon it was Evelyn's. Dread washed over him as he realized the atmosphere was one of mourning. It lingered like a storm cloud, hovering over tragedy as it did in Kinloch, in Kirkwall, at the Hero of Ferelden's services.

Evie was positioned the same way Neria was, hands crossed, resting on her chest. The cries from the crowd turned into sobs and became noisier. His voice echoed within the hall, resounding with little effort. The tone was that of a whisper, but could be heard crystal clear. In his memory, he had traded places with King Alistair and was delivering his speech regarding the woman who saved his life, the one whose dead body laid before the masses. Though his tears streamed silently, his words were shaky and he sounded broken. An emptiness filled him; grief pierced his heart and for a moment, he was certain he'd been stabbed. No blood stained his finery, nor was there a physical wound of any kind on his person. The entire inner circle huddled in a corner mourning the loss of their beloved Inquisitor.

Cullen wasn't only disconsolate over the loss of their leader, but he lost a friend, a comrade-in-arms, a lover, and his betrothed. He gazed upon the face of his intended in horror, the realization weighed him down like bricks. He may not have delivered the final blow, but the events that brought her to this point could have been altered. His orders caused this by the men under his command. The directive given in the debriefing inflicted this upon her and like Tristan, he held the blame for Evelyn's death. The blood of his future wife and any of their potential children were forever stained on his hands. His dreams, obliterated.

WereI more vigilant, I could have prevented this. Similar to Neria.

"Commander!" Solas' voice carried over the plethora of people, but the sound didn't come from the one dressed in black with the other members of the inner circle. This Solas looked otherwise normal and donned the standard mage robes and staff that he frequently wore. Cullen squeezed and rubbed his eyes, hoping to cease his double vision. When he opened them, there were still two versions of the elf.

"Listen to me carefully. We haven't much time. You are dreaming and in the fade, this isn't real."

"Then there's a chance! I may still be able to save her?" Cullen grabbed Solas by the shoulders allowing the glimmer of hope to seep into his shattered heart. This may not yet be beyond repair.

After prying Cullen's hands away from his person, Solas averted his eyes, seemingly reluctant with hesitation in his tone. "Commander, you need to comprehend the gravity of the situation. When I dream-walked with the Inquisitor before, she manifested it with such remarkable detail. The anchor's influence, I suspect. It was nearly impossible to differentiate The Fade from the real world. Which is why, when I sought her out after her capture and I saw only green, I became concerned. I am certain she was under the influence of a substance that compromised cognitive function, as I stated. I have been attempting to reach her since she provided the second disoriented message and I cannot. There are three common reasons why one would no longer dream. With the solution they gave her, it makes no sense to administer more to prevent dreaming when she was already disillusioned as things were. Neither is she a mage. The only remaining option logically, is that-"

"Oh, Maker!" Cullen interrupted. His gaze returned to Evelyn as she laid on the stone; all hope quashed by Solas' words. He bit his lip, and closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears from pooling before he spoke. "Evelyn is dead. She's really dead."

He looked at his hands dripping with her blood.