"Long ago, a clan lived on the Silent Plains. It was a terrible, lonely place where the sun was forbidden to shine."

"B-been a while, Cullen."

Despite drowning in the pouring rain, with lips as blue as her piercing violet eyes and teeth clattering loud enough that Cullen was surprised he hadn't been able to hear her before he had opened the door, even with the thunder and lightning, Ellana Lavellan didn't look any less dignified and graceful than he remembered her. Cullen thought that he was dreaming and rubbed the remainder of sleep out of his eyes.

The elven rogue remained. Her shapely lips formed a confident smile as she blinked up at him through eyelashes laden heavy with streaming water.

"D-don't tell me you've f-forgotten about me a-already," she said, trembling in the cold.

"Maker," breathed Cullen, too stunned for any other response.

Ellana's smile widened. "N-not q-quite. B-but a c-close guess, I'll g-give you that."

"Ellana."

Cullen swallowed. He hadn't uttered that name in years. It didn't sit as strange in his mouth as he imagined. In fact, it still held that same, familiar quality about it, like it had been only yesterday that he had been part of the Inquisition. Like it had been only yesterday that he had addressed her as Inquisitor and managed troop movements together in the war room until she had fallen asleep in her chair, too dedicated—and stubborn—to retire for the night before the day's events caught up to her.

Cullen had thought that he would never see the elven woman again. Hope, pitiful and pathetic as it was, blossomed within him once more.

"That's right. M-might you be so i-inclined as to let an o-old friend s-stay for the night? I could c-camp outside, of c-course. B-but as you c-can see what with the lovely weather o-of the Storm Coast this time of year, I-I probably won't s-survive the night."

Cullen stepped aside immediately. With a grateful nod, Ellana slipped inside, only to freeze one step in.

"Ah," she said, looking up at Cullen with a knowing smile. "S-so you did listen to m-my advice."

The mabari that Cullen had brought with him from the Winter Palace watched Ellana suspiciously. Realizing that she was referring to him, the hound's lips curled back, revealing massive teeth through which a low growl escaped. He was fully grown, his withers reaching up to the rogue's waist, no doubt at least twice her weight. Yet, Ellana was fearless. She crouched and held out a hand, staying quiet and firm despite the mabari's increased growling. Cullen opened his mouth to warn the hound but was hushed.

After the initial friction, the mabari tentatively approached the elf, curiosity replacing his territorial nature. Cullen watched in awe as the hound sniffed Ellana's open palm before he bumped his enormous snout against her, begging to be petted. She obliged instantly, laughing when the mabari nearly knocked her over in his eagerness to receive affection.

"What a good dog," said Ellana, cooing at the mabari as it licked her on the cheek. She looked up at Cullen with a wide smile. "What's his name?"

"Atlas," said Cullen, giving the mabari a dry look when he barked in agreement. "He's not supposed to lick strangers in the face."

Ellana laughed. "Don't be jealous, Cullen. Animals like us tree-huggers. We've got a natural bond with wildlife, especially hunters like me."

How fitting, Cullen thought with not a little bitterness, that your former lover goes by the title of Dread Wolf.

"Where's your wife and child?"

Cullen nearly choked on his breath. Fortunately, he had turned away to shut and bar the door, which meant he might be able to calm his treacherous cheeks before he had to meet her eyes again. A lot of time had passed since he had seen the former Inquisitor. Perhaps he had gotten better at disguising his feelings. Perhaps time had changed things between them, made her more jaded, him less transparent.

But the amused look on Ellana's features said he was anything but discreet when he finally faced her.

"No such luck yet, huh?"

"I reckon I haven't had the time," said Cullen, placing a wood log into the dying fire.

"Must be. Five years later and you're still as ruggedly handsome as I remember you."

Cullen cleared his throat awkwardly and settled on a chair next to the fireplace.

"It's been five years already?" he said in an attempt to change the subject.

Ellana gently pushed Atlas off her and shuffled closer to the growing fire, stretching out her legs and arms toward the flames. Atlas whined as he padded closer, disappointed that she no longer tended to that favorite spot behind his ear. Ellana smiled at the mabari and scratched him into submission, the famously fierce Fereldan breed settling right next to her leg like a pampered Orlesian lapdog. For a brief moment, Cullen felt jealous of the hound.

"Can't you tell?" said Ellana, still shivering as she gazed up at Cullen. "I haven't aged nearly as well as you."

She was wrong. Her black hair was much longer now, wet strands reaching past her waist even though it was bound tightly at the crown of her head. Her armor, weapons and equipment were unfamiliar, but Ellana didn't look a day past the fateful day that she had stepped out of the first major rift with the Anchor. Speaking of which…

"Your arm," said Cullen, realizing that Ellana possessed all her limbs again. "It's back."

"Not… quite."

Cullen looked away immediately when Ellana put away her bow and started peeling out of her leather coat.

"Don't be shy, now. Look."

Cullen slowly shifted his attention back toward Ellana. Her shirt was glued to her slender form, revealing every line and curve. It would have made him blush if it weren't for the shock of seeing what had replaced Ellana's left arm.

Underneath the former Inquisitor's coat, Ellana wore a fitted leather glove that covered the fingers of her left arm, all the way up to her shoulder. She undid the bindings by her shoulder and pulled off the glove with some difficulty, revealing something Cullen had never seen before.

A mechanical contraption sat fastened to her torso. An arm made of metal, with gears and cogs that spun interconnectedly as she moved it around just as if it were a regular limb. Smooth plates covered a majority of the arm, protecting the quietly clicking and spinning mechanism beneath, giving it some semblance of humanoid anatomy. The telltale glow of lyrium-etched runes emanated from certain parts, but if Ellana hadn't discarded the glove, Cullen never would have guessed that it hid anything other than a real arm. It was... uncanny.

"Maker," he breathed, equal parts amazed and dismayed by the craftsmanship. "How…?"

"Dwarven."

Ellana smiled as she held up the arm, capable of controlling it effortlessly. "Varric knew that Bianca might know someone who knew someone, who knew somebody else, who said they might know someone, who maybe had heard of a person who could possibly help replace my missing limb."

"So," said Cullen, furrowing his brows. "It's something illegal."

"Not really. But we might have had to break Varric's contact out of a prison… or two."

"And the cost for its construction?"

"Just regular ol' sovereigns," said Ellana, smiling innocently. "And I ran all over Thedas to find the necessary materials myself. No blood magic or other forbidden sorcery is going on here, I promise. So, don't you go all templar on me."

"But how do you control it?" asked Cullen, his frown deepening. "I never took you for a magic wielder."

Ellana wiped some wet tresses of hair from her forehead, revealing a blue gem embedded into her earlobe. To the less-trained eye, it may have looked like a sapphire or the like. But Cullen knew it for what it was: lyrium, encapsulated by some sort of hard, transparent material. Perhaps glass, but he doubted that would be able to protect against the harmful effects of lyrium.

"I don't even know myself," said Ellana, reaching out toward the flames again. "It was difficult in the beginning, but now that I've gotten used to it, I don't feel any different than before. Well, save for the matter that I can take off my left arm and have it run around like a little wild critter. Makes for a hilarious number at taverns and inns. Until they accuse you of blood magic, of course."

She grinned at him. Cullen inspected Ellana dubiously, unamused, but she didn't budge. When he deemed that she seemed to be honest about the lack of dark sorcery, he couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

"How the Inquisitor has fallen," he said. "From once leading the most powerful organization in Thedas, to scrounging up some ore here and there."

"Hey, the arm isn't that new anymore. I'm not turning over stones nowadays."

Cullen had so much he wanted to ask. So much he wanted to know. But when Ellana yawned so widely he feared her jaw would dislocate, Cullen decided that his questions could wait.

"Take the bed," he said, nudging his head in the direction of his bedroom, the only other room in the small wooden cabin that he had called his home throughout the last year.

"I can sleep right here," said Ellana immediately. "I didn't mean to impose, I just…"

What are you doing here, Ellana? he wanted to ask. Why have you returned to my life? I thought…

"Out of the question," he said. "You look as sick and frozen as you were when we found you after the destruction of Haven."

Ellana grimaced. "That bad, huh?"

"That bad," confirmed Cullen. It was a lie, of course. Nothing could make Ellana look bad.

Nothing except for when his presence was reminded.

"I have dry clothes and towels stashed in the drawers," continued Cullen. "Put your armor outside the door once you've changed. I'll put them to dry in front of the fire."

"Cullen, I'm fine with the floor. Really, I just need maybe a blanket. And dry clothes do sound nice. And a bed…"

Cullen raised a brow. Ellana laughed. He was dazzled. The sound, the sight of her—it was just the same.

"Fine," she said, rising slowly. "I concede." She sent him a wry look. "So this is how our troops felt when they were led by you."

"Whatever do you mean?" said Cullen, hoping the obscurity within the cabin was enough to hide the renewed color in his cheeks.

Ellana laughed again as she draped her coat over her shoulders. She headed toward his bedroom, patting Atlas, who had followed her, one more time before she shut the door behind her.

That's when Cullen realized that she had been limping.

He glanced at the floorboards where Ellana had been sitting. There was a dark spot on the rough wood. Not strange, considering how soaked she had been. But…

Cullen crouched and swiped two fingers across the spot. His fingertips came away wearing streaks of blood.

Atlas approached Cullen. The mabari sniffed the wooden floor and let out a whine once he looked up at Cullen. That confirmed it.

"Ellana?"

Cullen knocked gently on the door to his bedroom. "Are you… are you quite alright?"

"Of course," came the answer immediately. "I just need some sleep. How so?"

"Well…" Cullen looked at his fingers. "I thought you might be injured. There's… blood on the floorboards."

There wasn't any response. Cullen waited, but when the silence prolonged, he knocked once more.

"Ellana?"

Again, there was no answer.

Cullen pursed his lips. "Ellana, I'm coming in."

Cullen took a deep breath, hesitating more than once before he pushed open the door. He was ready to leave immediately should he find Ellana in a… compromising state. When he spotted her, however, he didn't know what to think.

Ellana was utterly exposed in but her drenched shirt and smallclothes. Cullen was ashamed to admit that his eyes immediately darted to the comely shape of her legs and backside, where they rested longer than anyone would have deemed appropriate. His attraction to her, as base and primitive as it might sound, was due to more than just her overwhelming presence, after all.

Though, the reason his attention didn't stray was more than one. Attraction aside, blood spilled from a wound on the inner side of her thigh, previously hidden by the long tail of her leather coat and the dark, water-soaked leather of her leggings. It looked to have been caused by a blade, the long, slender gash running horizontally across the muscle. It didn't trace deep, but Cullen carried enough battle experience to know that cuts like hers stung more badly than most.

"You're wounded," said Cullen, frowning with concern. "What happened?"

If Ellana felt uncomfortable or embarrassed wearing so little around Cullen, she didn't show it. Which, in turn, hurt him more than if she would have thrown a dagger at him for his intrusion, albeit an announced one. Was he truly so insignificant, so truly out of her mind and heart that she didn't feel the need to cover herself? Was he truly nothing more than her former commander, their ties built upon nothing more than pure professional respect?

Was he not a man, not even a candidate for one, in Ellana's piercing violet eyes?

"I stumbled over bandits. Lots of them."

Ellana grimaced as she glanced at her injury. The gesture made her bend over, putting her in an even more compromising position.

"You'd think that the blasted rain would keep those nasty bastards indoors. After all, nobody sane would be riding around in the middle of the night, in weather like this, for them to rob anyway."

Cullen tore his gaze away. He only barely mustered enough mental fortitude to summon a templar disciplinary exercise to keep his lust at bay.

"Nobody sane, huh?" he said.

Ellana laughed.

"Walked right into that one, did I?"

"I'm guessing you ran out of potions?"

"And traps, bombs and explosives. Unfortunately."

She sniffed her wet hair and made a face. "Poisons smell awful when they don't immediately kill you."

Cullen turned around. "You should sit. I'll return with some poultice. There's extra clothing and towels in the chest."

"Ah, yes. Thank you."

Cullen nodded and left the room. He wasn't an herbalist, but he had served long enough to remember a recipe or two. After mixing alcohol and dried elfroot in a bowl, Cullen produced some strips of bandages from an old kitchen cloth and returned to the bedroom.

Ellana sat awkwardly at the very edge of the bed, probably in an attempt to keep her bleeding from the bedding. Her hair was wrapped in a towel on top of her head, leaving her face and shoulders bare. She wore one of his tunics, which was far too large for her, her own clothes and equipment strewn across the floor nearby her. Her mechanical arm lay bare too.

Cullen knew that her semi-nudity found reason in the cut on her thigh. But it took longer than it should have for him to tear his eyes away from her body. The sight of her, her presence, it was like he had woken to find his dreams realized. Not the part where she was drenched and injured.

No, it was the part where she had returned to him.

"Thank you. I think I can take over from now."

Ellana smiled as she rose. She took the bowl mixture and the bandages out of Cullen's hands. Nothing about her tone made her seem awkward or uncomfortable with his proximity concerning her exposed skin. On the contrary, she sounded apologetic, as if she were stealing his time. His suspicion was confirmed when she continued.

"I do apologize for barging in like this, Cullen. And really, I don't need the bed. I'll survive."

"As shall I," said Cullen firmly. "You're injured, Ellana. You need better rest than me."

Ellana sank on the edge of the bed again, placing the poultice and the bandages carefully next to her.

"Not at the cost of yours."

Cullen shook his head and began gathering Ellana's belongings.

"I will be fine," he said. "I'm staying up for a bit to tend to the fire. Let me know if there is anything else that you require."

Ellana seemed to want to protest and argue further with him on the topic of the bed. But ultimately, she gave him a faint smile.

"Thank you, Cullen," she said, the light from the tiny candle on the nightstand casting a warm glow across her tired face.

Cullen nodded, leaving and shutting the door with a towel and her belongings in his arms.

Breathe, Cullen told himself as he placed her armor before the fire to dry. Just because Ellana found you, it doesn't mean it will lead to anything. She might have stumbled upon you on mere accident. After all, your chimney is the only one smoking for miles around. She must have seen it and come for shelter from the storm.

Cullen plucked another chopped piece of wood from the small pile next to the front door. He tossed it into the hearth and poked the embers around until he was satisfied with the returned flickering of the flames. Upon which, Cullen settled down before the fireplace and wiped down everything of Ellana's belongings that bore metal with the towel, dedicating extra effort into drying her recurve bow, arrows and daggers.

Leaving a wide berth between himself and the darkened spot where Ellana had shed blood, Atlas fell asleep curled up next to Cullen. The big mabari snored, a soothing sound that would have lulled Cullen to sleep if it weren't for the whirlpool of thoughts in his head.

Ellana, he thought as he put down her seventh dagger. Why are you here?

Between the hound and the hearth, Cullen sat in relative warmth, even without a blanket. During templar training, he had slept on the raw ground many times, meaning the rough floorboards weren't as uncomfortable as one might have thought. But age was catching up to him and his bones were not what they used to be. He felt a stiffness in his body before long, yet Cullen didn't know how long he sat before the fire, swallowed by his thoughts. When sleep finally crawled back to conquer his waking mind, he got settled quite easily.

It didn't take long before he awoke to someone touching his back.

At first, Cullen thought it was Atlas, readjusting in his sleep. But when the unmistakable sensation of a humanoid hand ghosted over his shoulder, he stiffened, his nerves instantly shooting to full alert.

"Sorry."

It was Ellana's voice, but a whisper.

"Your bed was comfortable and all, but I am freezing," she continued, amusement lining her tone. "I really don't have the luxury to lose more limbs than I already have. I'm too old to traverse southern Thedas, turning over stones in search for ore again, I tell you."

"I—" started Cullen.

"The bed is yours," she interrupted teasingly. "Sleeping this close to the hearth next to Atlas should be adequate in thawing my poor toes and fingers. Not that you aren't a good source of warmth. But I don't want to disturb your sleep."

Even though Cullen wanted to turn around and look at her, he knew that he wouldn't be able to resist temptation. Having her snuggled between his back and Atlas was more than enough of a challenge, especially since she seemed so direly in need of warmth. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. He wanted to place her hands in his.

But Cullen did none of that.

"There is no need to worry about me right now," he replied. "I will remain."

"Are you sure? There is a perfectly fine bed just a few feet away."

Cullen smiled. "I am. Rest well, Ellana."

She shifted slightly against his back. He heard a smile bleed into her voice as well as she responded.

"All right. You too, Cullen. It... it's nice seeing you again. You haven't changed a bit."

Within a few moments, the soft, calm breathing of Ellana Lavellan reached Cullen's ears. A person he had never expected to hear from, even less see again, the elven rogue and former Inquisitor was back in his life.

Even though he had managed to fall asleep moments earlier, Cullen found himself wide awake. He blamed it on the thunder and the rain hammering the roof of the cabin, but he knew it was a lie. Her words kept him up.

You haven't changed a bit.

Time would tell that he really hadn't.