"Will you read this?"

It was just after dawn, and he looked like death. His sleep had been deep and too brief, but he knew he'd find Cassandra in the training yard alone at an early hour. Even though she'd worked yesterday, that wouldn't stop her. When she was rested, she woke herself with training. When she was exhausted, she simply doubled the time spent. Besides, she was like him. She took out frustration with work.

The only comfort was that he felt better than he looked, thanks to Ellana. She'd crept into his office at the dawn and poured restorative magic into him while he'd struggled to open his eyes. He'd tried to shoo her away, to protest the use of so much magic on a body that should be used as sparingly as possible, but she'd been undeterred. "I left the bags under your eyes," she said. "That will make you look pathetic and gain her sympathy."

"I thought you weren't helping anymore," he said. But he'd had to admit, he felt better.

"Just this once," she said. "To make up for giving you the impression that I was trying to make you quit. Which you can never do, by the way." She gave him a forbidding look. "But don't tell Solas."

She smiled at him, then, and it was the smile of a scheming sister and a fierce friend. Cullen stood and hugged her tightly. She was small and fragile in his arms, but he wasn't afraid of that anymore. "Thank you," he said. He pulled back and looked at her. "I have to say I like you much better as a friend than I ever loved you as a woman."

Ellana rolled her eyes. "If that's the kind of thing you say to Cassandra, no wonder you're in trouble," she said. She pushed him towards the door. "Go, brave knight. Woo your lady."

And now he was here, and Cassandra was staring at him like he'd grown another head. "What is it?" she asked, glancing at the rough binding of papers in his hand.

"It's for you," he said. "Please read it." Don't make me say more words, he wanted to say. I'll only stumble over them.

She stretched out her hand and took it reluctantly. He smiled at her as best he could while his heart was thudding so erratically, then turned to go back to his office. He wasn't running, he told himself. He was making a strategic retreat to increase her curiosity.

The fact that he closed and locked his door behind him and leaned against it in relief had nothing at all to do with anything.

There once was a knight, tall and fair. He lived in a tower on the edge of the black forest of the world, serving the masters who held back its nightmares. He stood on the three pillars of his self, hope and faith and love, but his masters scored them, weakening them to turn the knight to their own purpose. They fed him magic, pure and raw, and it made him sick, but he never complained. He had a duty. The knight kept lonely vigil, never seeing the world around him, only the blackness he kept away.

But the vigil ended in failure. Monsters entered the tower, it fell, and the world ended. The knight's pillars crumbled, the forest overran them all, and his masters were scattered to the winds. But the earth still turned after the end of the world, and the people in the light placed their fear in front of him. They begged him for strength and goodness, and though he had none, he tried to be what was asked. He found a new place, a new stronghold from which to watch the forest, and he once again took up his endless vigil. His heart was heavy and gone, but he had a duty. He poured more magic into himself, trying to feel anything but fear. He didn't, for a long time.

A princess found him there, and she was tall and dark and beautiful beyond measure. Her heart was her strength, pure and clear enough to hold away the nightmares that still lingered in his mind. She tried to turn the knight away from the darkness, back to the world and its wonders, but the knight despised the truth of her and gave her nothing but anger.

But she was generous with her power, and she took his anger into herself, trying to turn it into joy. He could never accept it, for he had no hope in the future nor faith in himself.

The princess found the knight in a garden one day, shaking and broken, and she offered him a new duty. She would forge a new place, one that wasn't fearful but fair and just, and she would trust him to be strong enough to protect it. She placed the most powerful piece of her heart into his hand, the piece that would be the seed of her promised world. It was perfect diamond, precious and irreplaceable.

He knew he wasn't fit for the duty and begged her to find another. The princess wouldn't, and she swore to him that the charge would always be his. The knight wept, for he felt something stir inside him for the first time since the end of the world. He looked into her eyes and what he saw was hope. That was the first kindness.

The work was difficult, and the knight made mistakes. She was always patient with him, but he felt the new failures in his soul. His hope faded, for he wasn't as strong as the princess needed him to be. One night, when the hope had dimmed to the last flicker of the last fire, he looked at the diamond he carried with him everywhere. If he fell, what would happen to it? What would happen to her? She'd sworn to him he wouldn't break, and she never lied.

With the last remnants of hope, he threw away the magic he'd accepted into his body for so long. He ached down to the deepest bone of his body when its numbness fled. He twisted underneath the moon as nightmares poured out of the forest in the face of his new vulnerability. But in the day he was clearer, and he was almost enough for what was needed. Half weakness, half strength.

But as the nightmares grew larger, too much to fight, he went to the princess to tell her to take back the diamond. He begged her again to give it to someone safer, someone who didn't suffer through the night to stumble through the day.

The princess refused, and she closed his hand back over what he held. She told him that he was chosen, that he was trusted, and she would never take the duty from him. She believed in the knight, more than he'd ever believed in himself. He looked at his hand in hers and what he knew was faith. That was the second kindness.

The days wore on, and the knight healed. Sustained on hope and bolstered by faith, the nightmares subsided and the days were bright and clean. But as the knight returned to himself, he forgot the generosity of the princess. Her kindnesses were lost in his selfish pride and the knowledge that he could be whole once more. He knew that he was stronger and wiser than any man had ever been. The diamond was secure, ready to flower into its promise, and there was no danger of its loss.

So when the knight searched for love, the final pillar to complete his self, he remembered the sharp rush of magic and sought it out again. A maiden, brave and strange, caught his eye, and he spent the days drinking her in from afar while the princess faded away.

The new world he'd been promised came to pass. The seed grew into a fortress, then a city, then a land that was rich and green where the forest was a distant memory to all. The knight tried to rejoice in its light and the fulfillment of all of his dreams, but he was stubbornly, achingly lost with only the two pillars of himself intact.. He held to the center of things, guarding the seed that still flourished as he'd been charged, but he despaired at the love he couldn't have.

When the despair grew too great, the princess would find him again. She would smile and touch his arm and whisper that he was needed. And the pain would subside for a time.

One day the distant maiden became maiden no longer, flowering under the love of a man the knight would never be. The knight felt the empty parts of himself keenly, and he knew he would never be whole.

He abandoned his duty and fled into the darkness of the distant forest, no longer wanting a world that thwarted his vain dreams. The princess pursued, ceaseless and true, heedless of the painful dangers the knight left behind as he ran. When she found him again, kneeling at the edge of the void, she was bloodied and torn from his cruelty. The knight was even crueller in his anger, trying to cast her away from him for all time. And yet she knelt to the knight and gave herself, one last time, to turn the darkness around him into light. Into love. That was the third kindness.

When the knight came back to himself, she was gone, a whisper on the wind, but the path back to the world was a bright and glowing spirit that he would always recognize. Hope and faith and love, and she was each one together. The knight stumbled down his new road, comforted and afraid in turns.

When he reached the edge of the forest and stared at the new world she'd made for him, she was no longer waiting inside of it to smile and touch him and make him complete.

The tall and fair knight, the foolish and alone man, cried out at the loss. He fell to his knees and prayed. Please, he said to the stars. What use is this world without the princess to stand for me in the center of things? I am broken and weak and I love her, for now and always. Please. Bring her back to me.

The day wore on slowly as Cullen continued the business of becoming who he had been. He called his captains into his office and made them captains in knowledge instead of merely in name. They spoke for hours about the state of each company, each soldier, and the strengths and weaknesses of the troops.

He did it because they needed to know. He did it because he needed people in his office, a constant distraction from the dread of his stomach. He did it because he could no longer hold command in his hands alone as the means of never being dismissed. He did it because someday he would leave, and someone would need to be there.

The morning turned into afternoon turned into twilight, and still Cassandra didn't come.

Cullen stayed in his office as the sun drifted over the fortress, too afraid to leave. Dorian brought him lunch, wearing a rare, serious expression, and when the mage gripped his shoulder in comfort, Cullen accepted it gladly. Blackwall came to talk about Warden business that could have easily waited and let Cullen spend too much time arguing the nuances of their deployment and Blight research. Dagna stopped in with a letter from his niece that held only one in ten words that he understood, but when the dwarf said she showed an originality of mind he was proud anyway. Even Grim wandered through and sat in silence across the desk while Cullen read and wrote and organized his mind.

All of these friends he'd never known were also family. The Maker had blessed him beyond measure.

As twilight spread over his desk, he lit a candle and found he could work no more. His mind had stopped, like a man who'd walked to the edge of a ravine, and he stared unseeingly at the desk. It was time for something new. He pulled a piece of paper to him, dipped his quill, and began to write again.

Dear Mia.

A wind wavered the candle. He looked up, and Cassandra was there.

He pushed his chair back so quickly it nearly tipped and fell, but he hardly noticed as he circled around the front of the desk. She was standing in the door, quiet and real, but there was a strange expression on her face. He studied her, trying to guess her mood, trying not to temper observation with his own wants. His only clues were the armor she wasn't wearing, and the bundle of papers in her hand. They were still roughly tied, but he saw the flashes of the flowers he'd glued into their pages so carefully with Varric's help. The princess's kindnesses.

At last she spoke. "There's no ending," she said.

"I don't know what it is yet," he answered. He gripped the wood behind him lightly to keep him still. "I was hoping you would."

The Seeker walked towards him on soft feet. Her eyes never left his face, and he breathed shallowly under their stare. He looked away when she ended her approach in front of him and watched her lay the pages on the desk behind him. On top was the flower he'd given to her the day before, and hope rose in his heart once more.

"Did you like it?" he asked. He brought his eyes back to her face in time to see her brows draw together in a frown.

"No," she said. Her hand rose to his shoulder, powerful and sure. "The knight pitied himself far too much, as usual."

Cullen made a noise of protest and was gearing up to argue when she kissed him. Her mouth was sweetness and surety, and he lost whatever words he'd found. Just as well, he realized later. The path of spoken words had never led him anywhere worth knowing.

His hands slipped around her waist as she deepened the kiss. When she pulled away, he sighed, but he kept his eyes on her face. His fingers brushed against the hem of her tunic in a steady rhythm, trying to soothe away the fear he saw. "Are you sure?" she asked. "Can I be what you want?"

"Yes," he said. "More sure than I've ever been. I'm sorry, Cassandra. So sorry, for everything."

She squeezed his shoulder in silent forgiveness. "What about Ellana?" she asked.

"She's the friend of my heart," he said. "You're the anchor of my soul. I thought it was the other way around for so long, but it never was. I couldn't breathe without you, Cassandra. I don't ever want to again." He rubbed away a tear that slid down her cheek. "Are you sure? Can I be enough for you?"

She pulled him into a tight embrace that he returned with all the strength in his arms. "Yes," she whispered. "It's always been you."

"Good," he said. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "A knight should never be without a princess to adore."

As she grumbled that she still didn't like being called a princess, Cullen looked over her shoulder and saw Cole standing quietly in the open door. The spirit held a finger up to his lips, then stepped lightly to each of the other doors to turn the locks. When he moved back to the first and drew it closed behind him, he flashed one wide grin before vanishing.

Cassandra turned at the sound. "What was that?"

"Privacy," said Cullen, smiling. "Unless you want Sera in here to guard your virtue again."

"I think you've already plundered that most thoroughly," she said. She brushed a finger across his chest and dipped under the shirt to his collarbone.

He shuddered, but he didn't close his eyes. He wanted to watch her darken for him. "There are always new depths to explore," he said. "I've never been with a woman in my office before. Not even in the bed."

Cassandra smiled. "Not all men would hold up their lack of partners as promise of prowess," she said, and he flushed. She kissed him apologetically. "Fortunately you are charming. And I know very well that you are equal to whatever you claim."

"I don't want to disappoint you," he said hesitantly.

"You care for me," she said. "A thing I never thought possible. I can never be disappointed again."

"If anyone can find a way, I can," he muttered.

She took his his face in her hands and held him steady. "Stop," she said. "Do you not know I've taken every good thing in me from you? I forbid you to suffer under my care."

"As you command, my Lady," he said. He put his forehead to hers, and then she was kissing him again, and he was holding her to him like a man drowning. Maybe he was. But he would be happy to drown in her.

Later they found themselves up the ladder, tangled together in a skein of limbs and clothes. He covered her under the darkening sky and whispered love, love burning like the stars, love drifting like the wind in the air. She answered with her voice, with her lips and with her fingers tangling in his hair. It was slow and wondrous, then quick and fevered, then bright and perfect in the cool night air. Near the end, when she moved over him in sweet rhythm, he submitted to the pace of her pleasure and listened to her call his name until they rose and fell as one.

After, she rested against him, molding to his side like she'd been born there. He listened to her breathing while he ran his fingers through her hair and over her skin. She traced little lines on his chest, soft and sure, and he fell asleep to the soothing feeling of her heartbeat under his hand.

He woke panicked in the darkness, a new and pressing fear around his mind. He peered around him for the danger, then realized it wasn't just fear but loss. Cassandra wasn't next to him.

Cullen sprang to his feet and pulled on the nearest trousers he could find. He slid down the ladder in a rush, but he stopped short when he saw her her sitting at his desk. He sighed in relief. "You scared me," he said. "I thought you were gone."

She stood and walked around to clasp his hand in quiet apology. She wore only her tunic, and he ran his eyes over the long lines of her legs without shame. "You should never be allowed to wear breeches again," he said as he rubbed his thumb over her palm. "Not when you're with me."

"And I prefer you without a shirt," she said with a smile. "Between us we'll neatly share a wardrobe."

He laughed. "What were you doing down here anyway?"

She reached behind her, lifting the hem of her shirt enticingly. He stretched his free hand out to caress the newly revealed skin, and she swatted him away blindly. "You'll tire yourself," she said.

"I know I'm not as young as I once was, but I don't need to be involved," he said, moving his fingers across the fabric of her smalls. "Well, not much of me. I just want to hear you say my name again."

"Cullen," she said forbiddingly.

"Yes," he said. "Though not exactly like that."

He stilled himself as best he could as she finally twisted back with something in her hand. It was the story he'd given her, but turned to the final page, the final flower pressed to the formerly empty space at the bottom. Above it, written in Cassandra's tidy script, he read:

The princess heard the call of the knight, whose spirit was as pure and true as the world she'd longed to create. She returned to find it perfect and safe in his hands. And she loved him there all the days of her life, for they were never parted again.