Cecily lay on the floor in front of Morrigan's Eluvian for a long moment, slightly sore from the impact, but mostly just incredulous at their escape.

"You all right there, Inquisitor?" Varric asked, standing with a wince.

"I'm fine. Everyone else?" she asked.

Solas, Cassandra, and Morrigan all murmured something in the affirmative.

"So, correct me if I'm wrong, but did we just escape Corypheus by jumping through an ancient elven mirror?" Varric asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Forgive me, Inquisitor, but this shit is weird."

Cecily couldn't help a laugh. "I don't disagree. The army is going to have no idea what happened to us." Her stomach twisted when she thought of Cullen's likely reaction. "I need to get to Leliana's ravens to send them a message."

The Commander knew something important had happened at the Temple when their enemy suddenly fell into a full retreat. The Red Templars were fearsome fighters, but they were badly outnumbered. A sane general would have withdrawn and regrouped immediately; Corypheus's people stayed on the battlefield until late into the day. But, of course, winning or losing the battle was not really the point—the only thing that mattered was whether Cecily and the others had prevented Corypheus from claiming the Eluvian.

When the Inquisitor had not returned by nightfall, Cullen took a detachment of his best soldiers to sweep the Temple of Mythal. But she was gone, along with the three she'd taken with her.

They did, however, find Samson. Dagna's rune had evidently done its work. Samson's armor lay in ruins; he was badly injured, but alive.

"Take this man to our healers and make him well enough for questioning," Cullen snapped, forcing down his rising panic. "He may be the only one who knows what happened to the Inquisitor."

It was a full day before Samson regained consciousness. At first Cullen feared that Corypheus's general would be reluctant to talk, but the former Templar was a broken man, and surprisingly forthcoming when Cullen and Leliana came to ask what had happened in the Temple of Mythal.

"Corypheus came for her, but the Well was already lost," he muttered. "Then the Inquisitor and her lackeys vanished through that mirror. I don't know how. My master tried to follow but could not."

Leliana's face brightened; she gestured for Cullen to follow her out of the tent. "The Eluvian!" she whispered. "They must have returned to Skyhold. She is all right, Commander."

Cullen tried very hard to believe that.

The journey back to Skyhold took some of the longest days of Cullen's life. Three days after the battle at the Arbor Wilds, Leliana was finally able to exchange messages with Skyhold. She had been right. Cecily and the others were alive, thanks to Morrigan's Eluvian. Still, Cullen knew he would not feel entirely at ease until he saw her again.

When they finally reached Skyhold, Cecily was waiting on the steps to their great hall, standing straight and proud, every inch the Inquisitor. She descended the stairs as her people marched into their fortress and immediately began pressing her hands to theirs, asking about injuries, assuring them that Corypheus had failed and the Inquisition had achieved its aims.

Cullen knew this was important, this moment of leadership, of thanks, so he hung back, waited until her journey through the soldiers brought her to his side. He met her eyes and saw his own relief mirrored on her face.

For once, Cullen didn't care who saw, or what they might say. He took two fast steps forward and hugged the Inquisitor tight for all of Skyhold to see.

Cecily had hoped that she and Cullen would be able to take some time together with the army returned to Skyhold. Instead, the next two days were some of the busiest she'd ever experienced at the Inquisition. It seemed that every time they closed a door, someone was knocking at it two minutes later with a task that absolutely had to be accomplished immediately. Thanks had to be issued to their allies; soldiers had to be redeployed to avoid overtaxing Skyhold's resources; Vivienne cornered her with a detailed plan for dealing with Morrigan should the sorceress attempt to abscond with the knowledge from the Well. Meanwhile, Orlais was already asking pointed questions about just how much longer the Inquisition would be needed.

All of this was important. Cecily knew that. But was it really too much to ask for one uninterrupted hour? She was seriously considering asking The Iron Bull to stand guard outside her door the next time she and Cullen went up to her chambers. It would be rather like hanging out a large, Qunari-shaped sign that said "The Inquisitor and the Commander are upstairs and naked, come back later," and the Qunari in question would never stop teasing her about it, but Cecily was getting desperate.

It didn't help that when she ran into Cole in the gardens, two days after the army's return to Skyhold, the spirit boy took one look at her and said, "His scar curves. He's smiling at you. Are his hands supposed to be there? Are yours?"

He blinked at her through his bangs. "You're turning red. Why are you changing colors?"

"It's called blushing, Cole. It may happen to you soon," she said. "It happens when someone is embarrassed."

"Oh," Cole said. "Why are you embarrassed now?"

"Because those things are … private," she explained as her face flushed again. "Most people—well, I don't talk about them."

"Why not?" the spirit boy asked. "I don't understand them, but they make you happy." He smiled at her. "They make him happy too."

Cecily walked straight from the gardens to Cullen's office.

The Commander, unfortunately, was not alone. He was finishing a meeting with some of his soldiers, discussing supply routes and relief efforts. He caught her eye when she entered. "That will be all," he finished, somewhat hurriedly.

The soldiers saluted him and walked out. Cecily could hear them whispering as they moved onto the battlements. More talk for the barracks tonight, I suppose, she thought ruefully.

"Everything all right?" she asked.

"Now that you're here? Yes." He noticed that the door was a bit ajar and moved to shut it.

"Lock it. And then let's put the desk in front of it," Cecily suggested wryly.

He laughed, sliding the deadbolt into place. "It's always something, isn't it? But it won't always be that way."

"Maker, I hope not," she said. She crossed the room and slid her arms around his neck. "Care to place bets on how long before someone comes looking for one of us?"

"I won't put money on anything over five minutes," he laughed. "But let's tempt fate." He leaned down and kissed her.

Cecily kissed him back. Half of her was waiting for that knock at the door, but when it didn't come, she broke the kiss and moved to his side door, locking it as well. Cullen's eyes gleamed as he slid the lock on his third door.

"Now we've done it," he murmured. "Three doors locked. I give it one minute."

"Then let's make it a memorable minute," Cecily said, perching on the edge of his desk—and knocking a glass bottle to the floor, where it shattered on the stone.

She jumped up. "Oh, Maker! I'm so sorry."

Cullen looked from the bottle back to her. A broad grin spread across his face. With a sweep of his arm he cleared the desk, sending papers and pens and at least one inkwell crashing to the ground. He reached for her again, trapping her against the desk, his hands at her waist, his smile wicked and playful. Laughing, Cecily lay back and pulled him with her.

"If no one's going to interrupt us, we should stop," Cullen whispered a while later. "We cannot do this on my desk."

"No, of course not," Cecily said, fighting for her breath. "Um. Why not, exactly?"

He pressed his forehead to hers and smiled. "Because my bed is right upstairs. And to think, you said that was a bad idea."