Dawn broke the same as ever, and Sera grumbled loudly as Evelyn got ready. "Gotta at least let me steal some breeches, yeah?" she slurred sleepily as she rolled to her feet.

"I was thinking rashvine under their saddles," she quipped back, waiting for the elf to get dressed before stepping into the morning air.

"Ooooh," she giggled. "That would be hilarious! Yes!" She skipped past the brunette to fetch her saddlebag, rooting around in it.

Evelyn left her to it, nodding to Varric where he sat, tending the morning fire. He passed her a mug of tea and she wandered over to check on their horses, letting the scalding brew warm her hands. The anchor prickled underneath her skin as Major came up to her, and she let him nuzzle into her hand, the soft velvet of his muzzle soothing. "Morning, boy." She touched her forehead to his nose, breathing deep, trying to surround herself in the scent of sweetgrass and horse hair. Just like childhood.

He whinnied softly and broke away to continue grazing and she sighed, taking a sip of the bitter brew to help wake herself up. They'd break camp after breakfast, she'd decided. DeBouvier was useless as a hunter, scaring all the game away with his incessant chatting, and his cousin wasn't much better. They hadn't even paid attention to the tracks around them, treating the excursion as a reason to unload their problems and wishes upon her directly. Even if Cullen hadn't given her the perfect excuse, she would have been looking for a way out. Two more days of not hunting would not end well - she knew Sera had at least one jar of bees with her. She always had at least one jar.

With a sigh, she glanced over at the silk tents, servants already setting up a table for breakfast. Squaring her shoulders, she downed the last of her tea. Time to break the bad news.


One of the servants was waiting for him, and Cullen did not appreciate the insistent stare as he shrugged his surcoat on. The blue had receded again, fortunately, but it didn't make the trudge up to the breakfast table pleasant. Especially not when the man indicated his seat was next to Lady Ferhon.

She greeted him warmly as he sat, and he couldn't help but notice the rest of their companions were absent. "I do hope you are feeling better, it is such a shame but the Inquisitor has made it quite clear you have to return."

Cullen glanced over at Evelyn, on the opposite end of the table with the Comte. "I informed them that had I know you were still unwell, I would not have let you travel. We'll head back to Skyhold today, and you are under orders to rest. I'll not risk my Commander for a few rabbits." She had that disarming smile on and he nodded in thanks.

"I'm sorry for being selfish, Inquisitor." He tried to look contrite, but mostly felt awkward as the servants bustled around the table, pouring drinks and serving food.

"There's nothing to forgive." Absolution. "We can hunt another time, Commander." He nodded again, embracing the cup of tea in front of him to give his hands something to do.

"That would be most wonderful. We simply must host you again, Inquisitor! I am sure my cousin agrees." Comte DeBouvier raised his glass to toast, patting Evelyn's arm as he did so. When she smiled and put her other hand on top of his, Cullen looked away. The Game, he tried to remind himself.

"Oh yes! I simply must insist you join us then as well, Commander." Lady Ferhon leant into him, and he tensed as she mimicked the Comte's behaviour. "Your presence is most desired."

He almost choked as her hand trailed down far too low to be appropriate and he shifted uncomfortably, trying to put some space between them. "I, er..."

"If his duties allow, I'm sure the Commander will most graciously accept, Lady Ferhon." Evelyn responded for him, one eyebrow raised as she looked at him. He shook his head as subtly as he could, focusing on the plate in front of him.

Breakfast took far too long.


Their return was delayed by bad weather in the mountain passes, but they arrived back at Skyhold two days before they were due as the sun was setting. Josephine practically dragged Evelyn off her horse as soon as they were through the gates, insisting that they had important work that just couldn't wait. When Cullen moved to follow them, the Antivan fixed him with a glare, shooing him with her hands. "I only need the Inquisitor," the clipped words sat heavy in his gut as he remembered Evelyn pointing out the servants watching them at the Comte's camp. He remembered Lady Ferhon's insistent attention. Or worse, if someone had seen...

Dennet grumbled as he grabbed the reins from him, leading the horses back to the stables, and he snapped from his thoughts. Bull and Sera were already heading to the tavern, but Varric was waiting for him.

"Looks like you've got some free time, Curly." He did not trust the sly smile creeping across the dwarf's face, and grunted before moving to head for his office. Rylen and Lysette had been taking care of everything while he was away, but he'd rather relieve them of the duty, rather occupy himself until Evelyn was free to talk to him.

Talk.

Because that was what he wanted to do.

Definitely nothing else.

He unclenched his fists with some effort and cleared his throat, noticing Varric trailing a few steps behind him. "Did you need something?"

Varric shrugged as they started climbing the main steps. "I was just thinking about the next installment of Swords and Shields. The Seeker's been bugging me for it, I was thinking I could get some inspiration around here."

"I'll thank you to leave me out of it," he grumbled, eliciting a rough laugh from the smaller man. Before the dwarf could respond, a scout bumped into them going to their way on the stairs.

"C-Commander, Ser! I didn't see you there!" The man squeaked out, almost dropping the missive he was carrying. As he sought to recover, he quickly shoved it behind his back. "Sorry, ser!"

Cullen raised a brow at the man, staring pointedly at his arms. Varric simply shrugged and made his way past the two men, headed for his usual spot by the hearth. "Something important, scout?"

"N-no, ser! Just delivering a message to the Inquisitor, ser!" The man squirmed, half wondering if he should just throw himself off the side of the steps to avoid the Commander. This wasn't the first time he'd risked the man's wrath.

"I thought Josephine took her to her office? You're going the wrong way." He was surprised, to say the least. The two women had been headed this way, after all. But the scout shook his head emphatically.

"Sister Leliana said to take it to the battlements above the garden, Commander. As soon as we heard the horn signalling the Inquisitor's arrival. I- I had better go, ser."

Cullen grunted, letting the man continue his flight down the steps unimpeded, watching him for a moment before resuming his ascent. It was curious, and added to the list of thoughts he found himself lost in as he made his way back to his tower.


Rylen was thrilled he was back. So thrilled, he insisted on drinks.

When that didn't work, he enlisted Barris to help, and between the two of them they were able to cajole their friend into a round at the Herald's Rest.

It turned into two rounds, then three.

By the fourth, Cullen was wondering why he didn't do this more. He drank slowly compared to his fellow templars, but enjoyed the company. The ale was strong enough to lubricate the conversation, but not enough to make them sloppy, and they laughed as Rylen recounted his last training session; how one of the recruits had tripped over his own feet and stumbled into the weapons rack, knocking everything over. Barris told them about seeing a scout, terrified of running into Leliana, scramble out of her way in the main hall, only to crash into one of the tables, spilling food all over a visiting dignitary. They rolled their eyes at Cullen's telling of Lady Ferhon's unwanted actions, and Rylen slapped him hard across the back.

"Bet you half the women here would do worse if they could." His brogue was thick but unslurred as he chuckled, hand gripped to his almost empty cup. "You should have heard them after you left, 'Oh, Knight-Captain Rylen, when does Commander Cullen get back? He's so dreamy, I just can't concentrate if he's not watching.'"

Barris snorted into his own drink. "They don't concentrate when he is watching."

Cullen fidgeted. He'd noticed stares, of course. But duty came first. Duty, and- He shifted in his seat, distracting himself with another pull of his drink and a nervous laugh.

"You're just mad Lysette doesn't go all doe-eyed at you, Bar." Rylen chuckled again, pushing up off the table to go get another round. Neither man missed the Marcher getting his own stares from some of the recruits in the tavern and they shared a laugh.

"That man is impossible," Barris shook his head. "And yet I'm going to miss him when he goes back to Griffon Wing Keep."

Cullen nodded in agreement. "He's a good man, and he raises an excellent point." He motioned with his drink towards a group of recruits enjoying their evening. "Are you ever actually going to talk to her?" It felt a little hypocritical, but it was also good to be on the other end of the teasing for once.

"Rylen's up his own arse," the templar sighed, glancing over in the proffered direction. Lysette was in the rather merry group, and Barris watched them for a moment. "Besides, we're at war. How can anyone think of pursuing an actual relationship with so much uncertainty? I'm not interested in being someone warm to hold on to." He leant back in his seat, accepting a fresh mug as Rylen rejoined them.

His words resonated far more than Cullen would have liked, but Rylen took command of the conversation again, steering them back towards humour with a tale of another hapless recruit who didn't know how his laces worked.

They were on their next round when he noticed a familiar form enter, traipsing a path through the packed building to where the Chargers sat. He didn't dare think how many rounds they were through, watching her pull an unsteady Bull aside. Rylen continued his story, not noticing his distraction, and he half listened about the midnight raid on the barracks. She looked upset for a moment, a missive crumpled in her hands as she talked, voice much too low to be heard over the din of the patrons and Maryden's lute. Then Bull was pushing a drink into her hand and shooing her away. She downed it and handed him back the mug with a disgusted look, heading for the stairs to the next floor.

She caught his gaze as her foot hit the bottom step and paused, a smile flitting to her face. Maker's breath, but she was beautiful in that second, candle-lit, offering him a shy half wave in acknowledgement, her face relaxing as the grin took over. She looked happy.

And then her brow creased, and she continued her ascent without another glance.

Rylen cleared his throat pointedly, story finished. "Getting along again, I see."

"I'd like to see you stay mad at her," he shot back, quieting the pang in his chest with another pull of his drink. Both templars were well aware of how acrimonious his relationship with the Inquisitor could get as he'd vented to them enough. But their dance had changed, and it had been a while since he'd confided in either man.

The Marcher laughed, clanking his mug to Cullen's. "The Inquisitor gave me a keep, I'll not cross her."

He glanced at his fellow Ferelden, and Barris shrugged. "I owe her my life. She could set me on fire and I'd probably forgive her."

"Doesn't hurt that she'd look damn pretty doing it," Rylen winked. "Maybe you should go for it, forget Lysette. You're both noble."

Cullen bit his tongue at the turn in topic, but Barris shook his head. "If that's all we have going for us, it won't work. Besides, I don't think she cares about that, and I certainly don't." He laughed wryly, taking long gulps until his mug was finished. "I also don't want to have to duel the Commander."

He spluttered, spilling the contents of his mug as he slammed it down on the table. "What?"

Rylen snorted, tried to take a sip of his own drink only to put the empty cup back on the table with a disappointed frown. "You've not heard?" He waited for Cullen to regain his composure with an amused look on his face. "Some guy in the hall earlier wanted to talk nuptials or whatever, just after you got back. Apparently she told him she'd only entertain the offer if he could beat you in armed combat."

"Needless to say, he dropped the subject," Barris laughed, deep and entertained. "I don't blame him, I've never seen you lose."

He laughed with them, shaking his head and offering Rylen the rest of his ale. "The Commander of the Inquisition defending the Inquisitor's hand? It sounds like something Varric would make up to write about. Besides, I've seen her fight one-on-one, she doesn't need me to deter anyone."

The two shrugged, the topic changing again as Rylen happily claimed the drink for his own. Distracted, he thought about the first time she'd knocked him onto his back, claiming victory. They'd sparred numerous times before that, and he'd always won. Evelyn had grinned, joy sparking in her eyes as he yielded to her, a blunted knife at his throat and a knee on his chest. Then she'd jumped back nervously, pink tinging her cheeks as he got back on his feet. At the time, he thought she was flush from the sparring, proud of her win; but in the haze of memory he wondered if it was something else.

He suddenly regretted letting Rylen take his drink.