AN: Wow! So it's been a giggle writing Cullen but this is the end of part two, plenty of surprises still in store in part three, including brand new perspective characters (that's right plural!) swooping from the past and nudging their way in from the present (I'm taking bets...winner gets this imaginary cookie!) Thank you and thank you twice for reading, reviewing, pming...all the good stuff...if you're waiting for a response from me I will have some free time tomorrow to message ya'll back! Stay cool like the cats you are!

Part II: The Lion

I'll Miss You

Since reaching Skyhold he snatched sleep where he could, usually slumped at his desk halfway through reading his pile of reports. The first night he'd tried the bed he had lain awake in his silent room, every lump in his mattress an irritation, every worry picked over like a scab. He thought he'd never sleep, until he turned over and smelt her perfume somehow on his pillow. He smiled into the softness, breathing the elusive scent deep.

The first night they'd played checks and talked on a hundred topics. She was so beautiful there, so alive. It was as though years had dropped their weight from her shoulders. He longed to tell her.

The second night she'd sat at his feet, skirts pooled about her waist, stoking a roaring fire. He'd watched her work, her pale features relaxed in the silence. It was easy to fool himself here, pretend that reality was her flower-scented bower, her standing to smooth her skirts, that smile she flashed that made him flush and grin right back.

That dawn he'd awoke with the same grin plastered across his face. He strode into the war room unable to keep the bubbles of joy from rising in his stomach.

"And what has our Commander smiling so?" Leliana stalked from the shadows.

Cullen faltered. He never found it easy to mask his feelings and lies were not part of his nature. This, however, was too private not to disguise. He didn't want the whole world watching them, and the spymaster was the last person he would trust with such a secret. "It's just...a good morning."

Leliana clearly didn't believe him. "I see..."

There was no time for her to probe further. The Herald of Andraste's voice boomed from the hallway, raised in irritation.

"Stop talking in riddles, woman. Speak plainly!" he was shouting.

"If you'd have been listening I would not need to repeat myself." Cullen's smile vanished. Oh Maker...Neria! Please don't goad him!

The doors flung open and the Herald flew into the room, chainmail clanking at his ferocious pace. Neria swooped in behind him, livid circles high on her cheeks. Neither stopped to greet him or the spymaster.

"Spit it out, mage," the Herald grunted. "I've not the time for your games."

"I'm trying to help you," Neria hissed right back. "You could at least act grateful!"

"You've done nothing but help yourself since you got here ," the Inquisitor drew himself upwards to sneer down his broke nose. "You eat our food, you sleep under our roof and you contribute nothing!"

The air became suddenly thick with the scent of a storm. Sparks crackled across Neria's balled fist. Cullen's instincts forced him to take a wary step towards her.

"I am trying to help you," Neria repeated teeth gritted. "If you'd just let me speak..."

"Neria," Cullen muttered her name, trying to keep the agitation from his voice.

She whirled on him. He gestured to where electric lit up the silver of her breastplate. For a second he thought she might turn her ire on him. He watched the muscles of her throat work down a swallow, watched her close her eyes, watched her chest move as she took a deep breath.

The sparks died, leaving nothing but the tang of burnt out lyrium.

"Why is there so much shouting?" Josephine stood in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. "Truly, it cannot yet be the sixth hour of the day and already we are arguing!"

Neria crossed her arms across her breastplate. The Herald fiddled with the straps of his longsword. Neither looked at the Antivan woman as she strode into the room. "Come now...you were so eager to be talking not a moment ago."

"I will not trade insults like children," Neria grunted. "I am offering a favour to the Inquisition and I am treated with nothing but hostility."

The Herald went to answer back but the Ambassador held a bejewelled hand up at him. "And what, exactly, are you offering?"

"During my time as Royal Advisor..."

"Is that what they call it," the Herald muttered.

Neria shot him a filthy look before turning back to Josephine. "I was fortunate enough to entertain the Empress on two occasions."

"You believe you can get us an invitation to Halamshiral?" Leliana mused. "None of our warnings have gotten to the Empress. How will you do this thing?"

"It is not the Empress I intend to contact but one...close to her," Neria shrugged. "It will not be a conventional method, there will be no risk of assassination."

"Magic," the Herald said it like a curse. "What type of magic?"

"The ancient kind," Neria said. "Too long forgotten to be forbidden. And fear not...I shall not bring it upon Skyhold."

"You're leaving?" Leliana's voice echoed his own thoughts.

"If the Inquisition wishes this favour," Neria bowed her head in clearly feigned meekness.

The Herald scratched the black thatch of his jaw, the thin line of his mouth twisting."I do not see the harm in it, you have my leave."

"Why are you being so secretive about it?" Dorian's voice echoed from the library above as Cullen mounted the stairs. "I hate it when you're like this."

"Neria shrouds herself in secrets, it's her armour," Leliana's words sounded smug. "Though you'll let me send an escort..."

"No..."

"Of my most loyal scouts..."

"It's not happening,"

"Just to the Hinterlands..."

"Enough!" Neria's voice echoed loud enough to set the crows into a terrified flight as Cullen entered the room.

She was running her fingers along the spines of the books, her hair braided into a tight bun, armed as though for war. The spymaster and the haughty mage were sharing a look of disbelief behind her back.

"Warden, will you please stop being so stubborn?!" Leliana's usual icy demeanour cracked with the same passion he'd seen the night they named Maxwell the Inquisitor. "If you will not accept help from strangers then let me come with you."

"The Herald will never allow it," Neria's silverite breastplate clinked as she shrugged. "And one may go where two may not."

Cullen cleared his throat. "Sorry to interrupt," All three of them turned to face him and he felt suddenly sheepish under their collective gaze.

"Commander, perhaps you can talk some sense into our little Hero," Dorian sighed, planting his hands on his hips like a matron. "She can't go out there alone."

"I was out there alone for six years," Neria sighed.

"Any assistance the army can offer is yours," Cullen said. "Though I admit, I'd prefer it if you took a Templar."

Neria's smile didn't falter like he'd expected, she simply shook her head. "I don't think so."

"I will ask the Herald for..." the Spymaster began.

"Leliana," Neria sighed. "Enough, please...I have to do this alone."

"You do not trust me," Leliana crossed her arms. "After everything we've been though."

"That's unfair," Neria reached out but Leliana pulled away.

"Is it?" the spymaster narrowed her eyes. "You left Denerim without a goodbye, even your housekeeper didn't know where you'd gone."

"I needed to leave. Leli, this isn't like back then," Neria sighed. "I promise, I'm coming back."

"You cannot know such a thing," Her voice cracked and she turned her face away from the light. "What if..." she broke off.

Cullen looked to his shuffling his feet, the spymaster's obvious distress made him an uncomfortable intruder. He risked a glance at Dorian, whose eyebrows had shot up into his hair line as his mouth bobbed open and closed as though to form words that would not come.

And then, as quickly as her solemn mask had slipped it was back in place. "You have already made up your mind, no? Fine, I shall not waste my breath..."

"Leli..."

But the Spymaster was already striding the stairs to her attic study two at a time, not turning at the sound of her name or Neria's heavy sigh. "Maker's balls!"

"She worries for you," Cullen muttered once her footfalls and ceased to pound above them. "As do we all."

"It's unnecessary," Neria muttered. "I'll be gone two weeks at the most."

"There are Inquisition camps across Ferelden," Cullen began, ignoring her arrow sharp glare. "I'll mark them on your map. You will use them."

"Is that an order, Commander?" she whispered.

Maker...Cullen felt a familiar restriction in his throat and the temperature of the frozen library seemed to soar. "I err...well.."

"Ha!" Dorian squawked. "Talk about ruining the effect..."

"Dorian," Neria hissed. "Give us a moment would you?"

"But I..."

"Please," Neria said, teeth clamped together with stress. "I'll meet you at the gate."

Dorian's eyes swooped over them both before he threw his hands in the air like a thespian. "Fine, I know when I'm a third wheel."

Cullen watched the mage saunter off with a growing apprehension. He reached for his neck unconsciously, looking anywhere but those storm coloured eyes roving over his face. She took a step closer, the tips of her boots tucked together at the top of his vision. He swallowed.

The silence of the library was suddenly broken by a caw from above. Cullen felt the noise shudder up his spine and a moment later Neria's soft laughter was filling his ears. "Do I still put you on edge?"

"I...er..." he muttered. "I'm just..." he lowered his voice. "I wanted to say goodbye." He looked at her then, just for a second, saw the sly grin working her way up her cheek. "I'll...miss you," he admitted, wondering why in the name of Andraste he was saying such a thing but knowing it was true and that if he didn't say it now then it would burst from him.

"Cullen?" Maker he liked it when she said his name. She stepped a little closer. She didn't smell of her starlit perfume but of soap and underneath that the dusty trace of lyrium. His mind began to spin a little. "Will you look at me?"

He did. The sun was high in the sky and triangles of light fell through the window to settle among her hair like jewels. A silvery scar he had never noticed before ran the length of her cheek, only distinguishable from her cream skin because of the wintery light. His eyes traced the scar to where it was being tugged into her smile.

And she stepped even closer and he could feel the warmth of her, despite the chill of the day and the thickness of his breastplate. And she was close enough that he was going crosseyed trying to watch her and he was just thinking how stupid he must look when that silvery scarred cheek pressed against his stubble. "I'll miss you too," she whispered and Cullen felt it as a finger of desire down his spine. And then her lips pressed against his cheek for a second that was all too fleeting.

"I'll see you soon, Cullen."

Hours later his cheek still burned where she'd kissed him.