Cullen spent the next two days worrying. The Inquisitor had remained in her quarters, refusing all visitors. Only the healer and a servant had been permitted entry into her chambers since he'd left. Cullen had pressed both for news and been given curt updates on Ahrue's wellbeing: she was fine, just tired and in deep thought, very quiet. He recalled his own period of despondency after Uldred's vial corruption of the Ferelden Circle Tower. Cullen understood why she didn't desire company, and he feared that she would do as he had done ten year before and leave without a word in the middle of the night, desperate to escape the site of her trauma. If she would see him, he could tell her how little running actually helped.
Leliana and Josephine had pressed him for details when they'd heard that he, Varric, and Cole had been up in her quarters for several hours. He'd told them gravely of the Despair demon and the Herald's triumph, but had kept other details to himself. The Inquisitor was right, the rumors would eventually become wide spread, but he would not hasten them. He wished he could shield her from the slanderous judgment and calumny that would undoubtedly circulate as her condition became well known. Priests were not known for being particularly charitable in their consideration of unwed mothers, and elves were particularly vulnerable to the unjust slurs and abuse of the self-righteous. While a human in her place might be thought a victim of a cruel lover, an elf in the same position would have her virtue called into question. Even if one of the Inquisition's own took the sunburst throne, minor clerics still held sway over the thoughts of their congregations. Ahrue would lose the respect of the most conservative Andrastians, and the injustice of that fact vexed Cullen.
He knew what Leliana and Josephine would say once they caught wind of the pregnancy. The simplest solution is for the Herald to be wed, Josephine would argue. Her position and influence will make it easy to arrange an agreeable match, even in light of the less than ideal circumstances. No, Leliana would counter, we should forge the documents so it appears she was married well before the child was conceived. Her relationship with Solas was well known after their dance at the Winter Palace. We need simply claim that he was her husband. A few careful bribes, and a cleric and some witnesses could be convinced to attest to the fact. It is unlikely that Solas will come out of hiding to object. Cullen sighed. He'd prefer to just handle whatever blowback may come and glower at any who would speak ill of their Inquisitor. Better to make a stand in support of her and risk the rumors than to bend to the opinions of fools at her expense.
There was a knock at Cullen's door, jolting him out of his thoughts. "Come," he said loudly.
Mason, the messenger Cullen had stationed to the great hall with instruction to keep him alerted about the goings on around the Inquisitor's quarters, entered the room. "Commander, Sir. The Herald has left her chambers, looking pale but otherwise well. She is coming this way. I ran ahead to alert you."
"Thank you, Mason. You're dismissed," said Cullen. The young man bowed quickly and scampered off while Cullen set about tidying his desk and smoothing his collar.
He felt easier knowing she was out of her chambers, but his stomach twisted at her imminent arrival. He had been perhaps too overt in his affection for her at their last meeting, and he'd felt her shy away from him when his eyes had lingered on her face overlong. It was apparent that she did not return his admiration, and he had no desire to make her uncomfortable with unwanted expressions of affection.
It was several minutes before he heard her knock at his door. He'd started to grow worried that she'd gone back to her quarters or become ill again on her way. But there was the familiar rhythm of her knock, albeit a little softer than usual. "Come in," he said warmly.
She stepped into the room, looking, as Mason had reported, a little pale and tired, but not particularly ill. "Commander, do you have some time?"
He smiled. "Of course, Inquisitor." He gestured toward the chair on the other side of his desk. "I hope you are well."
She took the seat. "Thank you, Cullen, I'm fine. Though I practically drowned in the sea of well-wishers that accosted me on my way her."
"Yes, we've all been eagerly awaiting you emergence. The people have much love for their Inquisitor."
Ahrue fidgeted in her seat, looking like she wanted to bolt. "I have something important to discuss with you."
Worry gripped him and he frowned. "Alright."
She took a deep breath. "I've decided to leave the Inquisition."
Cullen's heart dropped. It was as he'd feared. He tried to keep his expression calm and sympathetic, but his body tensed involuntarily.
"I'll remain for a short time to make my departure as smooth as possible for you and the others, but I hope to leave within the next two months. Sooner would be ideal."
He stared at his hands, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to think of the right words to convince her to stay. He heard her drumming a fingertip on the arm of the chair, waiting for him to say something. "I…" he began, looking briefly into her eyes and then back at his hands. "I understand why you would want to leave. Everything that has happened…. Everything that's ahead… I'm sure it's hard to feel at ease here. But I speak from experience when I say that running from your past, running from the judgment of others, it doesn't help."
He heard her exhale slow and deep, and he looked up to see her staring past his head through the window. "Cullen. Kirkwall might not have worked out, but running is what brought you here. And I believe you've found some small measure of peace. Sometimes running is precisely the answer, it just matters where you run to."
True enough, but not what he wanted her to take away from his personal history. "You plan on returning to your clan, I assume?"
"No. I have other plans."
He thought he caught her meaning. His muscles and his voice surged with tension and jealousy. "Tell me you don't intend to go after that elf apostate!" She raised an eyebrow, and he closed his eyes with the instant realization of his misstep.
"No, I am not pursuing Solas," she said venomously. "But it would be my business if I was."
"I… I'm sorry, my lady," he stammered. "You are right. It would be understandable if you wanted to locate him and entirely your prerogative."
The irritation in her face was palpable as she continued in a slow steady voice. "I have a journey of my own planned, unconnected to the Inquisition, the Dalish, or Solas."
He furrowed his brow. "A journey? To where?"
"I don't know." She looked down at the mark on her hand. "The anchor, the Vir'abelasan, both are a part of me now. But I know so little about either. I need to find answers."
Cullen's eyes widened. The Well of Sorrows. He wished, not for the first time, that she had let that witch Morrigan drink. As little credence as he gave Elven mythology, this geas the Inquisitor was under put him ill at ease. He agreed; the more they knew about it, the better. Perhaps there was a way the geas could be lifted. But Ahrue should not delve into the matter alone. "Surely the Inquisition's resources can help you with that," he said brightly. We can send agents and specialists in Elven lore to the Temple of Mythal and..."
"No." she said firmly. He could see the tension in her jaw and neck. "The sacred places of my people have endured enough intrusion. If I go, it will be as a disciple of the old ways. If I sent the forces of the Inquisition, they would be there to plunder secrets and mine knowledge they have no right to. What is ahead of me, I must do alone."
He shook his head, unbelieving. "Alone? I understand if you don't want the army of the Inquisition breaking down the doors of Elven ruins, but surely you don't plan to travel alone."
"I do."
He felt the panic rise as the picture of what she was proposing became clearer. Cullen came around the desk to stand over her. "You cannot. Listen to me, my lady. You are with child, you have been ill and despondent for weeks, you have been tortured by a demon, and you are mortal! You cannot set out on your own to meddle in ancient and dangerous magic. The journey by itself would be taxing in your present condition, never mind if you encountered hostile forces." He slammed his fist onto the desk. "I will not allow it!"
Ahrue's hands tightened into fists that shimmered faintly with magic as she looked up at him, eyes flashing. "Step back, commander," she warned.
He quickly obeyed. "I… I only meant…"
"I know what you meant." She sighed. "I know you want to protect me, Cullen, but I don't need or want that protection. My health, my state of mind, and my ability to take care of myself are not your concern. And none of this is up for debate. I am telling you that I am leaving the Inquisition. I am telling you I will take this journey alone. The only matter on which I seek your council is how best we might prepare for my departure. Are we clear?"
Her words stung, but he felt the justice in them. She was not a child to be protected from the dangers of the world. She knew the dangers of what she was facing, probably better than he did. It was her judgment and her choices that should guide her, not his. "It is clear, my lady," he said softly.
The Inquisitor stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. "Believe me when I tell you I have to do this. And try to have some faith in me. I am not exactly a stable boy trying to fight bandits with a wooden sword," she smiled.
He smiled back with a tinge of sadness. "Do you think you will ever come back?"
She shook her head.
His heart sank. "You will be… greatly missed," he said, both fearing and hoping that she would grasp his full meaning.
She took her hand off his shoulder and turned toward the door to leave. "I'm sure the Inquisition will carry on just fine without me."
He laughed dryly. "Don't count on it."