A letter from Inquisitor Trevelyan to Commander Cullen:

Cullen:

Returning from the Dales today, accompanied by one of the Dalish who wishes to become an agent of the Inquisition. Perhaps you might carve some time out of your schedule to actually have dinner with me when I return?

Evelyn

[Another drawing of a halla, this one standing next to one of the aravels at a Dalish camp]

A letter from Commander Cullen to Inquisitor Trevelyan:

Evelyn:

Acknowledged. Nothing would make me happier.

Cullen

From Seeker Pentaghast's personal journal:

We are currently on our way back to Skyhold, thank the Maker. I believe the Inquisitor is pushing herself too hard, and the break will be welcome.

We took second watch together last night, along with Cole. Sitting on a nearby rock, she seemed engrossed in cleaning her staff. Cole sat on the ground beside her, leaning his head against her leg and humming off-key to himself. He is…disconcerting, but after having traveled with him, I think that he means well. This does not make him any more pleasant to be around, however. He seems to have developed an attachment to the Inquisitor and seems to find her presence soothing.

Thinking I was unobserved, I slowly reached into my knapsack and pulled out my book. We sat in silence for a few blissful minutes, until—

"Good book?" asked the Inquisitor.

I jumped, and dropped the book into the darkness behind me. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Are you…blushing?" she asked, peering at me across the fire.

"It's of no interest to you, I'm certain."

She raised an eyebrow and shook her head at me. "Obviously, it is, or I would not be asking."

"It's a book," I sighed, picking it up off of the ground and dusting it off.

"I can see that. We had lots of them in the Circle."

"It's…one of Varric's tales," I said in a low voice. "Swords & Shields. The latest chapter."

"So you like to read? What's wrong with that? I read all sorts of things."

"It's frivolous. There are more important things for me to do. I should be…completing my account about what I saw in the Fade."

"Cassandra, I'm still sorting out what happened in the Fade, and even I am not entirely content with my conclusions. Give it some time."

"She's read this one three times," Cole chimed in from his spot on the ground.

"You! I told you to stop spying!" I snapped desperately at Cole.

"You read it out loud to me. I don't like the Captain either," he added.

"I never did that," I lied.

"I don't know this book, Cassandra," the Inquisitor looked even more curious. This was going horribly. "What is it?"

"It's literature…smutty literature. Whatever you do, don't tell Varric!"

She cocked her head to the side. "Can I borrow it?"

"You? No!"

"Why not me?"

"You're the Inquisitor!"

She laughed. "Oh, I see. I'm not allowed to read it because it's smutty? Cassandra, I kill people all day long. A sexy book is not going to impact my ability to lead or cast spells. That's one of his serials, isn't it?"

"They're terrible-and…magnificent. And…this one ends in a cliffhanger! I know Varric is working on the next; he must be. You! You could ask him to finish it. Command him to…" I blinked. This had gone far enough. "Pretend you don't know this about me."

"I have a counteroffer, Cassandra," she said, folding her hands calmly in her lap. "You lend me that book, and not only will I talk to Varric about finishing it, but I'll try to help you write your report."

I slumped in my seat. "Writing does not come naturally to me, as I'm certain you can imagine. This report…historians will one day ask what happened at Adamant, in the Fade. I was there. I saw it with my own eyes, and it must be recorded."

She beamed at me. "That's an excellent idea."

"I certainly thought so, until I started writing. I still don't know what to say about the spirit of the Divine. I saw her there, heard her voice, yet I cannot claim with certainty that it was really her. The Chantry teaches us that the souls of the dead pass through the Fade, so it could have been her…yet, even so…"

The Inquisitor paused for a long time, then took a deep breath. "I choose to believe it was the Divine. She gave her life at the Conclave, to help me escape the Breach, and…when I regained my memories, she…felt the same. There is no way of truly knowing, but perhaps she helped us one last time."

"I hope that's true. I want to believe it," I shivered, but not from cold. "When I realized we were physically in the Fade, I was terrified almost beyond reason. The last time such a thing happened, we created darkspawn. We created Corypheus. The world needs to know the truth this time. No more legends lost to the ages." I rose, and handed her the damned book. "I will write. I have no talent for it, but…it is important."

She nodded. "Cole and I will finish the watch, Cassandra." I went into my tent and set to work.

About an hour later, the Inquisitor scratched on the flap of my tent and entered. "How goes the writing?"

"It is slow going but…I am making some progress."

"Excellent news," she squeezed my shoulder. "I had a question for you, though."

"Yes, Inquisitor?"

She opened the book to a particularly salacious scene about halfway through. "The 'self-righteous,' 'curly-haired' Templar in this book—the one who pledges himself to the Knight-Commander but who is secretly obsessed with the mage and falls prey to her seduction and then they…you know," she made a vague gesture with her hand.

"Do we really have to talk about this? And how did you already get so far? And…ah!" I exclaimed, realization dawning.

"I'm a fast reader. Anyway, he seems quite familiar, does he not? Tall, blond, 'commanding presence'…"

"Maker, Inquisitor, Cullen would die if he found out. But he'd kill Varric first."

"Indeed," she said, tapping the cover of the book with her finger. "Let me finish this and we'll see what I can do about getting your sequel written, hm?" She smiled at me, ducked out of the tent, and I went back to my writing with renewed vigor.

I find it hard to think of a time I ever questioned her leadership.

From Inquisitor Trevelyan's personal journal:

We arrived back at Skyhold around noon, about as dirty and odoriferous as one would expect after weeks on the road, sleeping out of doors. All three advisers met us on our way in, and Cullen was especially stuffy as we headed to the War Room, greeting me with an "Inquisitor. We were-"

"Eagerly awaiting your presence," interrupted Lelilana. "Some of us more than others."

"I wasn't…" he stammered. "I mean, I was—we have work to do." A red flush spread across his cheekbones.

I ignored them both. "Josephine, can you tell me what kinds of leads we have on getting into the masquerade at the Winter Palace?"

She continues to leverage her connections, but we are not quite there yet—I know she'll make it work eventually, but I have little patience for these sorts of things. What little I do have, left over from my time before the Ostwick Circle, I will save up for the actual trip to the Palace itself.

Once a course of action was settled upon, I took my leave and headed up to my quarters to bathe and attempt to relax.

Unsurprisingly, Cullen neglected to show up for the evening meal I had ordered in my quarters, so I invited Varric instead. He is still mourning the loss of his best friend, and it seems to help to talk about Hawke and their misadventures together. He was especially cheered to find out that Cassandra was interested in the next issue of his serial, and I was able to get him to promise to write more, on the condition that he be allowed to present her with the book—and Cullen wouldn't be told about that salacious guest appearance.

So in the end, it was certainly a better use of my time than if I'd had had dinner with Cullen, because Varric was hurting, and I made him laugh. I still felt unhappy about the Commander's absence, however.

After dinner, I went over to his office to investigate his whereabouts. I found him, unsurprisingly, sitting at his desk, reading over reports and taking notes. A map of Orlais and Ferelden was spread over part of the desk.

He looked up. "There you are."

"Were you waiting for me?" I inquired sweetly.

"Yes. I mean, no."

"Interesting, because I am quite certain I was waiting for you. You said you'd have dinner with me, correct?"

"Oh, Maker, I completely lost track of time. I was trying to get as much work out of the way as I could before—"

He started rubbing the back of his neck.

"I can come back later, if you prefer." I was tired and growing more irritable by the second.

"No, please stay." He came around the desk and took my hands. "I'm sorry, I truly am, Evelyn. I was just trying to get things ready…we have some dealings in Ferelden, and I was hoping you might accompany me. When you can spare the time, of course."

"You want me to go with you?" I was surprised by the request; he seemed nervous. "Is something wrong?"

"What? No! I would rather explain there. If you wish to go." He squeezed my hands, and looked at me hopefully.

"Well…I believe there's time now." It seemed important to him; perhaps it was something nice? I decided to feel less irritated. "I could potentially be ready to go tomorrow, but if that is the case, I should get to sleep early."

"I will…make the necessary arrangements." He beamed at me, and seemed about to add something, but one of his scouts entered from a side door. He immediately dropped my hands and went to look at the report, and I slipped out the door before he was finished.

That man. I swear to the Maker, right now, I think this trip is going to be something sweet, but at this rate, he will probably just take me to a tallow-rendering factory in Denerim. Also, I am the leader of the Inquisition; if I am good enough to be pushed out of the Breach by the spirit of Divine Justinia, the least he could do would be to not act like he is ashamed of me in public.

I get the feeling that I am also being unreasonable, and complaining about it in my diary like a teenager. I will go to the library and look for something light, now that I have finished Cassandra's smutty book.

Dorian was lurking in the library, as usual, and he sidled up to me.

"I hear someone has a thing for strapping young Templars," he grinned.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing. Just something I find terribly adorable about you."

I perused the books for a moment, my hands on my hips.

"The way you're looking at those books, I feel sorry for whichever one you choose. I can only assume that it will end up quickly immolated."

"Dorian," I said, turning to him, "you know things about men, yes?"

"Why yes," he preened, "I do consider myself an aficionado."

"Why would a man—hypothetically speaking, let's say the subject is a strapping young Templar," I began slowly.

"Hypothetically, of course," he agreed, crossing his arms and leaning casually against the shelf.

"Why would a man express…interest…in someone, and then go out of his way to conceal this interest to others?"

"Oh, you southerners," he said affectionately, "when someone does not instantly announce their sexual desires to the entire world, you begin to worry. In the Imperium, we keep these passionate feelings repressed, where they belong."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I think we're going to the Orlesian Court soon. I hear they're all smiles and murder, like home. Just less magic." I selected a nicely illuminated version of the Arancia and turned to leave. "Have a nice evening, Dorian."

"Oh, Inquisitor, don't go," he sighed. "After dealing with my sordid family drama, I would be terribly remiss if I did not help you."

"In my extensive experience," he said, stroking his mustache, "a man who behaves in such a fashion does so for several reasons: he could be either shy, repressed, or very private, or he is the sort of man who wants you, but does not want to want you, and certainly does not want anyone else to find out about it."

"Ah," I said. "That last one sounds…unpleasant."

For a moment, Doran looked terribly sad.

"Yes," he said, "it is."

"Well," I thought for a moment, "I suppose I will just have to ask."

He let out a bark of laughter, then sobered up and looked at me skeptically.

"You're serious, aren't you? Darling girl, this is not how you play the game at all."

I shrugged. "I could die any day. I don't have time to play games, especially when I don't know the rules." I tucked my book under my arm. "Goodnight. Thank you for speaking with me—it was informative."

"Goodnight, Inquisitor," he smiled, shaking his head at me.

I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and headed to bed.

I am no longer feeling as irritable about the whole situation. After living a life in the Circle, I can understand the desire for privacy, for a space and a life of my own. On the other hand, I also no longer have to conduct any relationship under cover of darkness, and I refuse to do so. Perhaps I will discuss this line between privacy and secrecy with Cullen. The fact that he has asked me to go somewhere with him hopefully indicates the former instead of the latter.