Incorruptible

by super ginger

Alduin is dead. Purpose and duty fulfilled.Uthreida, Dragon Born, Yesimir of the North, is ready to return, But Tsun's shout is redirected, and finds herself in a land that is similar yet so very different from her home. Commander Cullen is hopeful for the future of the Inquisition. Until an unknown Dragon Slayer falls under his Command that makes him question everything he knows.

6. Chapter 6

A/N: New story, new plan to make it interesting instead of following the same routine. Let's play D . This whole chapter was a combination of script and insight checks. It's fun. Guess where they rolled ones.

Obligatory statement: I don't own the names or likeness of any characters with exception of OCs.

XxXxXxXx

She could see them. They weren't trying to stay hidden. The agents flocked three at a time but weren't staying out of her peripheral. Gods, she was used to staring, but not the constant watching. Feeling so observed. She felt naked before them. They kept their bow drawn, waiting. Watching her as she passed the courtyard. She wasn't able to think in the garden with their watching. She wasn't able to meditate on her next course of action with their eyes glaring at her.

Every inch of her wanted to bend their Will and tell them to leave her alone. Report nothing and carry on with their day. She wanted to lob a mud ball just to make a point that she could still reach them. She wanted to slaughter the keep and show the Inquisitor what it means to be kept in a cage. And drag him out to seal rifts when needed. Show him how mortals and dragons have an adversity to chains.

She shook her head at the last thought. Fight the blood, she heard Farkas say to her. She may have the blood and soul of a beast of domination, but her heart and mind were her own. These she could control. Don't let the blood poison the water. Reflect the still waters. Don't give in to the beast. Do not become Mirrak. A kingdom of slaves is no better than a kingdom of ash. Your mind is yours. Your thoughts make your universe. Make it a place worth living.

She took a deep breath as she entered the stables to check on Ragnar. She needed to be small here. Not everyone needs to know everything. She can't let the lesser get to her. She needed to hide what she was. Now that her destiny was complete, the gods have no favor for her now. She could die. She would rather let it be on her terms and not the army the Inquisition was raising. There was no point in being killed by a group that was slowly becoming respected and adored by the people. She'll be seen as another usurper. Another Dragon born lusting for her own power. They had all the makings of Delphine, Ulfric, Astrid, Frey, and Alea. She would become another pawn in their wars. Another means of domination for their guilds. Another betrayal waited for her with the Inquisition. The inevitability was making her skin crawl. But the Inquisition needed the benefit of the doubt.

She had no idea where she was. Who she could trust. Where she could go. She needed to learn these people so when she did move against them, they wouldn't know how to react. Have them be lost in chaos while she learned how to blend. If she had to fight her way through this land, she would need every advantage possible. They can't know what she can do. She can't let herself become another slave to another king. Using her because of her divine right. Using her to slaughter battlefields because she can't die. Lying to her face because she wanted to help her countrymen. Being taught to fight the blood when all she wanted to do was give in. Become the thing everyone knew and feared.

Don't. Don't be Mirrak. There is honor in the fight. Control your heart, control your blood.

This wasn't her home. And as far as she could tell, there was only one true path to that goal. She had made an oath to King Alistair that she wouldn't harm his people, but if they are loyal to the Inquisitor, are they still Fereldan?

She looked thoughtfully at the brush in her hand for Ragnar. The wood is the land. The bristles are the people. Without the land, the bristles mean nothing. The people are nothing. Without the land or the wooden handle, is it even a brush? The land gave purpose. The two together gave title, culture, and history. Or do the bristles give purpose and the wood supply the people?

She breathed. She ran the brush against Ragnar's neck and he turned to look at her expectantly. Uthreida lowered her brows at the horse, then nodded with a smirk. She usually greeted him with a treat. She had picked up an apple in the morning fast for him. She cut it in half and gave one to the horse. "I've spoiled you, haven't I?" He chewed, and stood calm, letting her work. She smirked at the quote from Balomund, kindness is never wasted.

She grunted. The immediate problem was who was she going to work for now with the long-term plan of how does that benefit King Alistair and getting her home.

"Good morning, M'lady."

Uthreida turned to see Blackwall enter, running a hand across his beard as if to try and tame it. "Blessings, Blackwall." She ran the brush over Ragnar's back, finding herself falling deeper and deeper in thought. How was she supposed to serve the King and the Inquisition? How was she supposed to serve the people of Skyrim and Fereldan? How can one mountain bend to two Kings? She changed sides on Ragnar and her eye caught the area between the commander's tower and the Inquisitor's balcony.

It's not one mountain. She's not the mountain. She's the valley. She's the bridge between the two mountains. That's why she can speak the tongues of both lands. She's the bridge. That makes sense right? That means what she does needs to benefit both mountains.

But then, what of the dragons? Is she a bridge to them as well?

What if the mountain weren't a specific people? But rather mortals and dragons. That's why she can speak the dragon tongue as well. Is she a bridge between? The dragon blood and the mortals of Nirn? She arched a skeptical brow. Like a dragon priest, she asked herself, like Mirrak?

She snarled to herself. Forget the dragon-bridge analogy.

So, how to connect Fereldan and Skyrim to build trade between the two. Skyrim needed trade as the Empire wasn't going to help. No longer being part of the Empire meant no longer part of the Imperial Trade Company that supplied them. Hammer Fall wasn't going to help and Highrock was still controlled by the Empire. Too much history from Morrowind for them to see aid. How would helping King Alistair help King Ulfric? What does Skyrim have that Fereldan didn't and vice versa?

"M'lady?"

She looked at Blackwall who looked rejected. Her jaw dropped slightly as she looked at him. "Please tell me you haven't been talking this whole time."

He gave a chuckle. "No." He lied. "You look deep in thought. What troubles you?" He canted his head in invitation even as he smirked.

Uthreida finally changed sides on Ragnar. "I was just thinking."

"I can see that" he chuckled as he placed more hay in the stall.

Uthreida looked at him through lowered lids. "I find myself at a crossroads, and I'm not sure how to move forward. Each road seems...dangerous in its own right. But boldness is required to achieve a greater good."

He stopped and leaned his arm against the pitchfork. "What's going on?" His tone held genuine concern. And a genuine lack of information.

She chuckled nervously. "You haven't heard?" He shook his head slowly, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. Uthreida took a breath, her eyes looking over the horse's fur. She clinched her jaw. If she was the valley or the bridge, does that mean she has to sacrifice what and who she is to achieve this? Her brows lowered, if a sacrifice is to be made, should it be the mortal or the dragon in her? Blackwall placed a hand on her shoulder to force her to look at him.

"Is everything alright?" His voice was soft and concerned. His eyes looked at her in pity and she realized that she must look pitiful to receive such a look.

Uthreida put on a fake smile for him. The lie 'I'm fine' was still a lie. "I will be okay."

His hand barely touching her as he ghosted down her arm, holding her hand gently. He tilted his head towards the inner barn. The look of concern still on his face. He took a step to lead the way. She smirked and felt her feet move to follow. But she felt the watchful eyes as she moved, and felt the smile remove from her face as she followed him.

Blackwall sat her down at the fire in the barn to give him and the horse's warmth in the cold mountains. He sat on a stool opposite of her, keeping his distance, but close enough to hear if she whispered. "What's going on?" He asked again.

Uthreida held herself. She let the situation envelope her and reveal her thoughts and possible intentions to him. "I just found out that I can apparently understand any language in this land."

Blackwall was literally taken aback at the information. "Really?" She nodded, awaiting his accusation of blood mage or Deadric incarnation. He nodded. "Okay." Uthreida looked at him with lowered brows as she crossed his arms. He's...okay with this? He tilted his head as he looked at her. "But your upset by this information?"

She sighed. Maybe he didn't understand what she meant. "I'm not from this land, Blackwall. How can I understand languages I've never heard of before?"

He shrugged. "Seems helpful now." He said offhandedly. Uthreida looked at him in question. "I mean, you're here to set up trade with the king of Fereldan, right. If you were speaking in tongues, he would've killed you on sight. Seems helpful now." He finished with a simple shrug.

Uthreida looked away. He didn't understand. Accurate, but he didn't understand. Probably because he didn't know she practically fell from the sky. "Right. Well, when the others found out, the Inquisitor allowed me to change the contract. I can work for whichever advisor I choose."

He tilted his head in thought but kept his face neutral. "Why would he do that?"

Uthreida shrugged. "Apparently, my reading and listening skills are more important than dragon slaying."

He nodded slowly. "I-umm" he looked away and out of the barn. "Is that why" he clenched his jaw, silencing his question. Uthreida looked at him with curious eyes. Did he know something? He gave a pained smirk. "Never mind."

"Please."

His cornflower-blue eyes took her in, and he looked away. "I don't mean to detract from your issues, m'lady. But it's been three days since we last spoke, and I was concerned that" he rubbed his neck at the admittance. "I was concerned I was a bit too forward." He looked away, rubbing his hands together.

Uthreida smiled at him. She would gladly take any conversation over the one gnawing at her. "My apologies, Blackwall. I meant to see you, but I got distracted and then all the ...poking." He quirked a brow at the phrase. "Dorian did numerous tests to see if I was faking the whole 'understanding all the languages' thing. I hope you can forgive me."

He gave a smirk to his hands. "There's nothing to forgive, m'lady. I'm glad you came by today." She looked away because of the heat on her face. She blamed the fire but knew the truth.

"So," she stated quickly to change the subject, "I heard that you are skilled with a chisel."

He looked at her and smirked with a chuckle. "It's a hobby of mine, yes."

"May I commission something? In truth, I don't know when I'm going to get paid, but I need something for my alter and I'd like it made of wood. If you don't mind making iconography of pagan gods, that is." She eyed him for a second to see a look of confusion on his face.

"If you believe, then it's not pagan." She lowered her brows. The Commander said that the Maker was the one true god and that all others were considered heresy. Even Josephine forbade her to convert. "I see no issue with it." He smiled at her and it calmed her mind. "What would you like?"

She looked around the barn and found some parchment and charcoal on his workbench. She stood and walked to it. "Ideally, it would be this big" she motioned a size between her hands the size of a small plate. "And carved into it will look like" she picked up the charcoal and started to draw the Kyne hawk encircled. Blackwall stood to look over her shoulder, but Uthreida placed herself between him and the parchment. Her rear keeping him back as she bent over the table to draw. She dared a look over her shoulder to see him arch a brow at her antics and smirk at her open ass against him.

She bit her lip as she finished the hawk. She turned and handed him the image. "It's for my alter. It's the hawk of Kyne. The goddess of the life, the hunt, sky, and the kiss at the end."

He arched a brow as he looked over the crude drawing. "A sky mother?"

She shrugged at the concept. "Something like that."

He looked at the image. "How big?" Uthreida held her hands up to indicate an appropriate size. "May take me a few days."

Uthreida clapped her hands and smiled. "Thank you, Blackwall. And like I said, once I'm paid, I will pay your price."

He shook his head. "It's quite alright-"

"It certainly is not." She stated, placing her hands on her hips in defiance. "I want your best work, and I'm willing to pay for it."

He looked her over, his eyes darkening for a moment, then returning to the parchment. Uthreida felt her core tighten when he looked at her, and then smirked when he looked away. "What kind of wood do you want? I have birch, fir, oak-"

"Oak, please. There's an old story about oak trees and Kyne."

"I'm not very good with paint, I'm afraid. But I believe Solas may have some if you want."

She looked at the image and remembered her teachings. "Plain should be fine."

She watched Blackwall look at the paper then at her. His eyes searching hers and she felt her heart swell. Her breath growing deeper when she realized how close they were. She moved forward to be closer.

Movement caught her eye. And agent moved from one side of the bailey to the other, bow drawn, one eye on her.

Uthreida took a step back. Feeling the heat from her wanted desire and the agitation of being watched. "I'm being observed." She said quietly to him. "We're being watched." Blackwall looked at the area with one brow arched, and a frown. "I'm sorry. I ah-" she rubbed her neck at the disappointment he must feel. "I'm not very, public, in my um, affections."

He looked at her with a smirk. "Do we need a dark room then?"

Utherida bent forward slightly, chuckling at his blunt request. She stood quickly, scratching behind her ear and smiling like a fool. "I doubt they'll let that happen."

He shrugged. "Never hurts to dream, m'lady." He ran a hand down her arm, taking her gloved hand in his. He gave a comforting squeeze as he looked over the crude drawing again. He met her eyes and Uthreida found herself getting lost.

He looked away, releasing her. He picked up a disk of wood remaining from a previous project and sat on his stool again.

She turned away to let the heat cool from her face. Her eyes finding the two towers again. What would help both? What path should she follow? What would Farkas or Isran or Bulgruff suggest?

Be patient.

Be strong.

Find the common ground.

Aiding the Inquisition would help Thedas and allow Alistair to start trade with Skyrim. So, how to aid the Inquisition. She kept going over the same three advisors and their pros and cons and kept hitting her head on the same questions.

She looked away from the towers to see Blackwall starting her project with a small hand axe to cut the basic shape of the wooden disk. "What do you think, Blackwall?"

He arched a ridge while looking uncomfortable. "About?"

"Which advisor should I fall under?"

He looked confused for a moment. "You want my opinion?"

"Aye. I trust your judgment."

"Why"

Uthreida shrugged. "You're older. Hopefully a little wiser." She gave a soft chuckle. He was acting like he was the last person to give advice.

Blackwall looked baffled at her approach but smirked nonetheless. "Go with Josephine. She's kind, ruthless, and effective. She knows how to keep the nobles from eating you alive."

Uthreida grunted. "Aye, but then it opens me up to other courts. How would King Alistair react if I'm speaking to other nations? Would he revoke his...trading alliances?" He looked at her slowly at her pause, reading between the lines with a curious look. "I'd be paraded like a prized bear. 'Oh, she's so tame, look, she eats berries from my hand'." She inhaled at a thought that made her heart drop to her stomach. "What if they kidnap me and force me to reveal Skyrim to them? What if they are worse than King Alistair? What if they alter my mind and force me to fight for them? Gods, what if they force me to fight my own people."

Blackwall held up a patient hand, letting her know her thoughts were downward sparling and out of control. "Then join Liliana. I've seen you move and your archery is comparable to the most skilled. I'm sure it's like putting on an old glove."

Uthreida sighed hard. "Then I revert to the thing I left behind. I can't become another puppet of Sithis. Becoming the Nightingale in all but name of the Raven Queen. I left it behind me when I discovered the layers of betrayal in my own life." She clenched her jaw at Astrid, Frey, and Ulfric. "Liliana is also the most dangerous. She holds the dagger in the dark. If I make a mistake or step out of line once, she'll..." Uthreida shook her head. Remembering the teachings of her own father, and the reason she went to the Companions for training in the first place. "My name cannot be synonymous with shadows. I can't betray all those who have helped me just to revert back to the darkness again."

Blackwall took a deep breath. "You're running out of options." Her eyes turned to the commander's tower. "It seems like the most obvious choice is the best."

Uthreida growled, her lips turning down in a look of distaste. "But he's such an arse."

He laughed at her blatant disrespect. "He's really not. Just direct and passionate."

"To you, maybe. You have a way with people."

"I disagree, but that's not what we're discussing." He stopped whittling to look at her. "You're going to have to choose. You are who you choose to follow. Whose blade do you want to be?"

He was right. But her heart tightened at the idea of being someone else's blade. After everything in Skyrim, she doubted anyone here would be worthy to follow. Or to trust to not use her as a weapon of war. "My own."

"And can you be that with the other two?"

"No," Uthreida stated lamely "with Lady Montilyet, I will lose my blades. With Liliana, I become an instrument of indiscriminate death to others. But, I also don't want to slaughter dragons just because they're there."

"Your title is dragon slayer."

"I'm aware." She accused playfully, but sighed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the door frame of the barn. "But fate is a poor excuse for action."

"I'm sure Cassandra would paint a different picture. Killing dragons, that is." He sighed but continued to whittle. "Commander Cullen has seen the darkest parts of people. I'm sure you two started off on the wrong foot. Make amends and-"

"How? He seems more concerned with my death than my life."

"I'm sure you're overreacting."

"How can you say that?! He's" her argument deflated when he looked at her with a knowing smile, "really mean."

Blackwall chuckled at her childish reasoning and argument. "Because his officers were griping about how he wanted soldiers to have basics in archery, not just swordsmanship." Uthreida scrunched her face in confusion. What does that prove? "Aren't you skilled in both? Didn't he see both in the Mire?" Blackwall grinned at her, turning on his stool to look at her head-on. "He begrudgingly respects you. Besides, if your concern is how King Alistair will react, killing dragons in Fereldan will protect his people. And if you keep killing dragons, the people will say your name." Uthreida sneered at the idea. More reasons to join the Commander. "And at some point, Corypheus will have to listen. You're going to have to face it. Commander Cullen is your best shot you've got for securing trade agreements."

She growled at the idea. But he's so mean. However, he would be the easiest to blind as to what she truly is. She could hide the dragon blood if all he saw was battle. However, she also knew that he wanted to avoid her allowing her to read into the land and history. Uthreida sighed. Blackwall was right. Commander would be the better choice. He also supplied information on how Thedosian military minds worked. She could learn from him how he thinks in case a war should break out between their people. Her mind skittled for a second. Or she could show him exactly what he's dealing with. That was one person she wouldn't mind putting the fear of the dragon into. If he knew what he was dealing with, he wouldn't use her. He wouldn't dare go against her command. She felt a smile start to pull at her lips, then sneered as she realized that she let the dragon have too much fun at the thought. Though, could prove to be useful. How can she make him fear her, without going full Mirrak 'build temples in my image'? She looked at Blackwall and set her jaw. His blue eyes looked at her with a smirk and she faltered in her courage. "How should I make amends?"

He smiled but looked at the block of wood in his hands. "What did you do?"

She crossed her arms, looking at the fire. "I think I wounded Commander Cullen's pride." Blackwall puffed his cheeks in social embarrassment. "Several times." His face turned painful.

He took a breath and looked her over. He looked at the tower in thought, then went back to his block. He sighed. "You're going to have to apologize." She groaned. "I know it sounds difficult, but admittance of fault is a recognition of another's pain. A gift might help."

She huffed as she looked at the stalls of the merchants before the barn. "What would be an appropriate gift?"

He shrugged. "The Commander's a practical man. What does he need?" She shrugged shaking her head. Their conversations usually revolve around her being a barbarian, his soldiers, and the Inquisition. Blackwall hmmed as he scrapped the wood. "Your services then."

She looked at him incredulously. "In what?"

"Training."

"Who?"

He paused. "The Soldiers."

Uthreida clenched her jaw. "But if-" she looked away. She could feel his eyes on her as she spoke. The cracklings of the fire the only means to mark the silence. "What if our nations go to war? He'll know how to defeat our military."

Blackwall breathed deeply and scraped the wood again. "If your nations go to war, you'll know our tactics. Is it not fair for us to know some of yours?"

"Aye?" She gave a guilty smile.

Blackwall shot her a playful look of disappointment that made her look away at the selfish actions. "Are you expecting a war?"

She huffed, leaning harder against the door frame. "At this point, it's a matter of time." She stated darkly. The inevitability of mortals.

"Why do you say that?"

She shrugged. "It's the way of things, isn't it? There's always some war to fight. There's always something worth dying for. There's always land that needs to be taken." She sighed, looking out over the baliey. "I've read your Chant. The goal is to spread the word of the Maker across the four corners, aye? That includes Tamriel. I just got done fighting a war over religion. My people won't convert. So, war will happen again."

Blackwall smirked. "Spreading the word doesn't mean invasion."

"Tell that to the mer."

"So you know the history of the Dalish."

"Who are the dalish?"

He opened his mouth but just smiled. "Something new for you to research."

"I" she looked away again. So much she still didn't know of this land. "Will look into it." She looked into the fire. "Do you mind if I get a second opinion?"

"On the Dalish?"

"On who I should work for."

He chuckled. "That would be wise. I'd suggest Seeker Cassandra and Iron Bull. They have a good head on their shoulders. I'd also suggest Scout Harding. For fun. Maybe Lady Vivienne."

"For fun?"

"For insight."

Uthreida took a breath and pushed off the door. "Thank you, Blackwall." He smirked as he lifted the block slightly. "For listening." He smirked as he worked. Some of his hair was falling into his eyes as the rest was slicked back. She found herself smiling at a memory of Farkas, growling angrily at his hair as he worked at Skyforge to make his Wolf Armor. Watching him as he physically argued with himself to cut it when he thought no one was watching. Uthreida patted a few of the hidden pockets of her gambeson and found a single leather strip. She crossed the barn and stood behind Blackwall. He looked over his shoulder at her but didn't move to stop her. She combed his hair back with her hands. Blackwall seemed unsure but slowly sat up, letting her work. She smiled again as Farkas did the same when she did this for him. Farkas's deep voice teasing her about how if he did cut off his hair, she wouldn't have anything to hang onto during their nights together. To which she smacked Farkas on the shoulder for being so brazen.

She pulled Blackwall's hair back into a single point and wrapped the strap over it. He sat still and quiet while she worked. Letting the heat creep up her neck as her hands sometimes forgot what she was doing. She smiled when she realized that due to his shorter hair, Blackwall had an adorable little tail to the gruff man.

His hand went up to her tricep, holding her for a moment. His eyes looking at hers as he smiled. Uthreida felt her core tighten at his look of desire. "Are you blushing, dragon slayer?"

"No, I" Utherida looked away, trying to hide her face from him. Feeling the heat of the accusation made real.

He gave a hardy chuckle as he released her arm. "The scar on your face turns a darker pink even if your cheeks don't."

"I-that is just-I don't" she sighed. She's been told this before. She hid her face with a free hand. She pushed off the guilty smile from her face and scowled at the ceiling. "Thank you, Blackwall." She scathed at his continuous laughter at her.

He released her arm and let her slip from his fingers. "Take care, m'lady." His raspy tone at his pet name sent a shiver down her spine as she tried to walk away. Dibolla's bosom. She eyed the agents in anger as she walked past them.

XXXXXX

Cullen arched a brow as he entered his office. "What's this then?" He asked Lieutenant Overbridge, pointing to the large carved wooden box on his desk.

The young woman looked at him, then the box. "It arrived a few moments ago, sir. With some Avvar."

Cullen looked at her then the box suspiciously. "The Avvar?"

"Yes sir. It also came with a letter. Sister Liliana has verified the contents earlier."

He arched a brow. "I shudder to think-" he said to himself, standing with the Lieutenant, staring at the box. It wasn't ornate, but the box did have a thick knotted motif around the edges and center that were elegant but not detailed. Three feet by two feet by two feet. He looked at the Lieutenant. "The note?"

She reached for a note and passed it to him. "Here sir."

He looked at the folded parchment. The seal was broken probably due to Liliana's investigation of the box in question. He arched a brow and opened the letter. He scanned the sender first. Auger Dulang. Ah, those Avvar. "Anything else, Lieutenant?"

"The boy." She held another note in her hands. "He told me to tell you Uldrid marked you but didn't make you. You stayed you."

"Ah." He sighed. "Cole. Here, I'll take that." The Lieutenant passed the missive into his free hand, his eyes remaining on the box. After Sera's pranks, he wasn't sure what to expect from it.

"Did the meeting go well, sir?"

Cullen was pulled from the box to the Lieutenant next to him. She was a head and half shorter than him and several years his junior. Even with the half helm, she still held the freckles of youth. She was smirking at him. Watching him. Cassandra was still using her to check on him, wasn't she? Cullen felt himself smirk at the idea of it all. "The meeting went well. I do have missives that need to be sent out." He rounded the desk, looking at the box again, and picked up the stack he had been working on last night. "Will you take these to the roost and have them dispatched as soon as possible."

"Yes sir." Overbridge took the stack gleefully. She must like the birds, he assumed. "Anything else?"

"No. Well," he looked at the box again. "What's in it?" He asked in a hushed tone, pointing at the box.

Overbridge looked at said box then shrugged with a sheepish smile. "I...don't know, sir. I know it's heavy. But I was told you would know what it is."

He arched a brow. "Who told you that?"

"Sister Liliana, sir."

"Right." He looked at the box, then the letter in his hand.

"The new missives are in the usual stack sir. I'll get these taken care of." She moved to salute, but she held the correspondences to her chest to prevent the wind from taking them making it an awkward gesture. He could only smile at her but nodded at the effort. She exited, and he looked at the note again. Pushing the books off the chair, he sat to read.

"Dear Commander Cullen of the Inquisition,

It is with a sadden heart to inform you that clan Edvarr has taken ship and will be leaving Fereldan soon. However, Thane Movarn wanted to thank you personally for your part a few weeks ago. It became obvious to us that you didn't see the subtext of what was happening, so allow me the chance to explain.

Thane Movarn had every intention of following the Inquisitor's instructions to leave. However, when he returned to the hold, it was discovered that Gormunder had returned. The clan was excited to see the hold beast return, and almost revolted when they learned we had to leave per the Inquisitor. He sent his sons to inform your scouts of the dragon to ensure your people stayed clear when delivering the weapons.

Only to find out that your Inquisition had a dragon slayer.

We both were excited to hear that the beast had been slain. However, the Thane did have to think of his people and his position. Hence the show of anger that your slayer met in kind. Thane Movarn knew he would have to hold a trial of the gods to ensure your dragon slayer could walk away without reproach. It became clear of what and who she was. The clan would not let her go if she would be allowed to stay. The clan would go to war if it meant the dragon was with us.

I believe you saw the rest.

The challenge of marriage was a way to both protect the dragon and keep the others from the clan to take her. As Thane, he had the first right so he knew others would not challenge him.

Thane Movarn did what he could to keep her away from the Avvar as best as he could. For all his show, the Thane desires peace over war as is in keeping with our gods.

The dragon, though-

It wasn't the best plan, but it was the best we could come up with under short notice and with limited resources.

Enclosed, you will find a bride gift worthy of a Thane's wife. Worthy of a challenger of a Thane. May she wear it well and keep her warm on her cold nights.

The Thane has also enclosed the following groom gift: a word of caution:

The task before you is honorable but requires diligence. It will not be easy. Dragons cannot be tamed, corralled, or controlled. In truth, they must be killed before their greed consumes everything. Your dragon still values honor and keeps to the ways. She has not been corrupted. Yet. Keep it safe, but keep your sword sharp. May your wit serve you well.

We move to Tevinter soon and shall keep the Inquisition informed of our positions as we take out our common enemy. As a final gift to the Inquisition, Thane Movarn also sends his youngest son. Conant is a strong warrior but needs training in leading. He will make an outstanding soldier or scout. Put him to use and reap the benefits of that which will come.

May the spirits walk with you, Commander.

Auger Dulang"

Cullen arched a brow at the letter. This was either an afterthought way to make amends or a very roundabout way to tell his own clan no. Looking at the culture and history, the Thane did relinquish his beast to move the clan.

He sat the note aside and lifted the lid of the box. Using both hands he inspected what looked like white fur. He pulled the fur and was shocked at the weight. This was a thick pelt. He pulled and found that it folded in on itself.

When he reached the ends, his jaw dropped. The head of the beast was still attached. The skull wasn't intact, but he could still make out the eyes and mouth of a Sunless bear. Maker's breath, this is worth a small fortune. The white bears were extremely rare in the south.

The door opened and Cullen looked up to see Rylen enter his office, looking quizzical as he mockingly saluted. "Do you see this?"

"Aye." He stated, walking towards the desk. "Wut is it?"

"It's a Sunless bear." Cullen scoffed, looking at the hide. "If my father could see this."

Rylen pulled the sides and revealed the forearms of the massive bear. The arms gave way to the paws that still had the claws intact. "Andrastes flamin sword. Look at th size of them."Cullen smiled. And the Avvar had this? Just sitting around. He shook his head. "What's this then?"

"Sunless bear. From the Sunless lands. You rarely find them this far north. They're massive." He looked at the pelt. It had to be six feet by ten feet. And that's after the hide shrunk. He could only imagine how massive it was in battle.

"I can see tha." Rylen stated, holding the arm out to be four feet away from the head.

Cullen chuckled. "My da used to tell a story about when he was a boy, he saw one in the mountains of Honnleath. How one bear would get a family through half a year and the pelt would get them through the other half." He shook his head. "Makers breath." He said breathlessly. He took in the detailed work of the hide as he inspected it. He noticed a few holes in the leatherwork to indicate where the clan wounded it and the larger cuts were the killing blow.

"Where'd you get this?"

Cullen's delight of seeing a childhood story made real stopped at the question and how he would answer it. He sighed. "It's a bridal gift from the Avvar." He looked over to see Rylen give a look of approval. "Worthy of a Thane's wife." His approved look deepened with a nod. Cullen gently folded it back up and placed it in the box. "They sent me this." He passed the note to Rylen for his inspection. Rylen arched a brow a few times as he read, but stayed silent. When he finished, he set the parchment on the desk. "So the Avvar donna want her with them."

Cullen crossed his arms. "So it would appear."

His eyes rested on the box. "So why send such a fine gift?"

Cullen looked at the box, taking in the carved oak lid. "The Auger mentioned a prophecy but didn't say what it was."

"You don say?" His tone was heavy in sarcasm.

Cullen shrugged. "Thoughts?"

He arched a brow. "I'm reminded of a summer fest I attended as a child. A local Druid in Starkhaven charged ten silver to read fortunes." He gave an annoyed look at Cullen. "They were all the same," Cullen smirked as he looked at the Captain. "Whatever fantasy this Auger was trying to sell was false. If it wasn't important enough to share, it wasn't important enough to craft."

Cullen nodded at the logic but tilted his chin at the letter. Or maybe it was so obvious to the culture of the Auger that he didn't think Cullen never would have heard of it. "Important enough to warn about something."

Rylen looked at the letter and frowned. "To be fair, it's general advice. One could even make similarities to your situation as well." Cullen arched a brow. Rylen looked at him, his blue eyes knowing as he looked Cullen over. He was referring to the withdrawals. Rylen was silent as he looked at the box, his forefingers following the carving on the box. "Or, it's Thane gold."

Cullen arched a brow and looked at the box. Thane gold was a term used in the early days of the Alamarri who would raid villages. They have three to six days for the village to collect as much gold as possible. If sufficient, the barbarians wouldn't attack. Thus creating an annual tribute to the clans in hopes of peace. The Avvar don't want her to attack. Or To join them. If this was thane gold, was it for her or for the inquisition? "They call her Dragon," Cullen stated bemused.

Rylen shrugged. "We call her Slayer." Seeming to find similarities in shortening Uthreida's title.

Cullen grunted. Thank the Maker for Rylen. But in truth, Rylen didn't see the spirits in the hold. He didn't see how the people reacted to her. He didn't see the Augers look of fear as she sang or his look of reverence as she left.

Rylen removed his pack and pulled a bottle from it. He placed it on the box. "A bride gift" he stated with a smirk.

Cullen rolled his eyes. "Not you too."

He chuckled as he looked at the bottle. "It's owed."

Cullen sighed, then laughed to himself. "Do you think I could get Mother Giselle to annul the marriage?"

Rylen arched an amused brow at his friend. He shrugged. "On what grounds? If the rumors are true, you, Commander, valiantly saved the slayer from the horde of barbarians." Cullen rolled his eyes as Rylen laughed at the notion. "You can't say that you engaged in rites without consent. She's of age and you've met before so there isn't a breach of any contract. The only reason left is-" Rylen let the sentence hang as he looked at his friend with a waving brow and predatory smirk.

Cullen frowned. He knew Rylen was teasing but there was truth to what he was suggesting. Having public knowledge that he's impotent lowers his standard as a Commander. Not to mention the embarrassment as a man. Even if it was half-true given the withdrawals. Not that he wanted anyone to know that. Cullen sighed. "I was hoping she could just walk around the ramparts with a bell shouting 'annulment'" he moved his hands as if he had said bell, smiling at the vision. "Annulment."

Rylen gave a pained expression. "May throw the mages in the hold into a panic."

Cullen paused. "Good point."

Rylen laughed at the idea, shaking his head at Cullen. Then sighed. His blue eyes going back to the box. "The marriage happened outside of the Makers gaze. Mother Giselle wouldn't have the authority as it wasn't officiated by the Chantry. Even if she did, Skyhold has Avvar personnel and allies in it. If the letter is true, and the Avvar people want the slayer to join them, if you annul your marriage, you leave her vulnerable."

Cullen lowered his brows in thought. He only "married" her to keep her from them. To keep her in the Inquisition. And since the Avvar literally take wives, she would become a target to them. The Thane sent his son here. As a chieftain son, he could stake the first claim on women. Cullen groaned internally. Having her as his wife was the safest thing for her. No matter what he wanted. Even after the embarrassment she causes, this is the best route for her. If the goal is to keep her safe from them, in the mountains, he'd have to get past their animosity.

Rylen eyed Cullen for a moment. "Speaking of your wife." He said lowly, producing a small purse from his waist. He placed the purse on the box, his gloved hand feeling the fabric of it. "I uh" he breathed hard. Cullen turned his full attention to the Captain. Rylen looked conflicted at the bag.

Cullen squared his shoulder and lowered his voice. "Speak freely, Captain. What troubles you?"

Rylen fisted his hand as he turned to Cullen. "I believe this is yours." Cullen arched a brow. "Sister Liliana paid for my discretion, but also knew that I would tell you of my findings." Cullen lowered a brow as he tried to follow. "I conducted the initial Maleficar Trial on the slayer."

Cullen stood straighter even as his back was killing him. "What did you find?"

Rylen looked at him and shook his head. "Nothing."

Cullen wanted to look enraged. There had to be something but took a breath. He should be happy that the woman isn't possessed or practicing forbidden magic. "Anything noteworthy?"

He shrugged. "Honestly, it's easier with mages. With all of her scars, it was difficult to discern what was self-inflicted or battle-induced. But when faced with the Litany, she didn't flinch."

Cullen nodded. After Kirkwall, it became apparent that the methods Templars used to find Maleficarum was either outdated or a waste of time. The only way to find blood mages is to catch them in the act. And at that point, it's too late. The Litany helped with finding possession, but the trials were more of an embarrassing situation for all parties. Cullen nodded. "Anything else?"

"Nah, Commander." He shook his head. "Lass's clean ."

Cullen nodded but noticed that Rylen looked at the bag again. He knew the man's father was on death's door and only abandoned the order for the promise of higher wages to pay for his father's medicine. His four other siblings were barely making ends meet in Starkhaven. He needed the gold. "Liliana paid you to be discreet?"

"Aye."

"But she chose you, a trusted knight captain?"

"Yes."

Cullen lowered his brows. Rylen was his most trusted. His second. Liliana knew that. She was playing a game. "Did she pay you to lie?"

He shook his head. "Nah. Just ta perform th trial."

Cullen looked the man over. "Liliana knew you would tell me of anything you found and knew I would believe you no matter what you stated. Thus, it would appear that you did exactly what you were paid for. As far as I'm concerned, that money is yours." He jut his chin at the bag, watching the man smirk. "Though I would ask that you reframe from too many dalliances of coin outside of your standing duties."

Rylen smiled and bowed slightly. "Aye, Of course, Commander."

Cullen met his smile but felt he was missing something. "Do you think the Slayer requires monitoring?"

He tilted his head in thought, then shrugged, replacing the bag on his belt. "N'more than th usual."

Cullen felt himself smirk at a thought. "How did she take to the trials?"

"She fought at first"

"They always do."

"But Sister Liliana calmed her dun. She questioned my loyalty to you. She seems to think you want to see her dead."

Cullen pulled his lips back to argue but snapped his jaw shut. He could see why she would think that. Irritation and agitation were more of the ever growing list of symptoms of his withdrawals. He had been harsh on her for the last month. And felt ashamed of his berherating after and wanted to apologize but knew blaming the withdrawal was a weak man's excuse. And he knew he would have to tell her that he was no longer taking lyrium. Every time he wanted to bury the defamation, her pride and ego only riled him up more. Compounding with her raw power only solidified the fact that she was untrustworthy. She danced very close to the edge of possession. He looked at Rylen. He had confirmed that she wasn't possessed. But he still didn't want her to know his weaknesses.

He rubbed his neck in stress and to fight off the mild twitching of his shoulder that was happening. "I can see why she thinks that." He took a hard breath and rested his wrist on the pommel of his weapon. "It would appear that I need to have a conversation."

"You probably should. The men's morale did improve but is slowly waning when they see the two of you arguing. If mum and da aren't getting along, they fear for the family."

Cullen arched a brow. "We don't argue in front of the men."

Rylen arched a brow and smirked. "You know stone walls echo, Cullen." Cullen looked away ashamed. "Is it the lyrium?"

Cullen nodded once but lowered his voice so the walls wouldn't tattle on him. "I'm on edge all the time. Seeing her just elevates it."

"Because you're afraid of her," Rylen stated flatly with his arms crossed.

Cullen pulled back at the blunt observation. "No."

"I am."

Cullen looked at him and there wasn't an ounce of shame or guile on his face. "I'm not afraid." He stated boldly. Even as he said it, he felt his heart shrink at the lie.

"You should be." Rylen leaned back. "Anyone with tha many scars had their values and character tested. And hens been victorious every time. I sincerely doubt she fears man or death." His eyes drifted back to the letter from the Avvar. "Walk carefully. People like that" he shook his head solemnly.

Cullen arched a brow in annoyance. She's one woman. How dangerous can she really...she slays dragons, he warned himself. She doesn't fear death or even dragons, can she really be controlled? That's said, if any of this is true, he and Royoc are playing a dangerous game of waiting for her to submit. Cullen sighed. He crossed his arms as he looked Rylen over. "As I'm sure you've heard-"

"Probably no' but carry on."

Cullen chuckled but pressed on. "The Dragon Slayer has been authorized to change command." Rylen arched a brow at the phrasing. "She may not work for the forces anymore as it's been discovered that she can read and understand other languages." Rylen kept his brow raised, waiting for the question. "You're closer to the men. How would morale change if the Slayer wasn't slaying dragons?"

Rylen sniffed at the question while looking him over. "Sataboot?" Cullen was confused at the retort and the Starkhaven chuckled. "Exactly how you think they would. Before the lady arrived, everyone was miffed at the idea of a dragon that could take the field. You pull her off, the soldiers, that are stationed in the field, will be left with the dragons, living in the field. How do you ken they're gonna respond? Aye" his brows raised at the Commander. His accent was getting thicker and Cullen knew he was reaching his limits. It would appear that Knight-Captain Rylen needed her in the forces to keep his men calm. "The men find out she left, they're gonna blame you. I don ken how, but, you gonna star kissin arse. Star treatin hen like yer wife, no' a soldier." He pointed to the box with the fur to make his point. "Happy wife, happy life. Equal in all. Stop fightin."

"She's not my-"

"Tha's not whot they see." Rylen crossed his arms. "Pucker up, Cullen, or yer be another scar on her tapestry."

Cullen crossed his arms in defiance but sighed. "I shouldn't have asked you." He said to himself. Knowing what he said was true but was blunt to the point of offense.

Rylen shrugged. "Aye. But" he smirked, " my job is to pull yer head out of yer arse from time to time."

Cullen smirked at their banter. "Fair enough"

Rylen took a breath. "Look, ye donna have tae do th full marital rituals. But do maintain some respect. Th lass is frightenin" he gave a look of pain, "but tidy. Respect respects respect, aye?"

Cullen lowered his brows at the tongue twister but smiled. "I suppose you have a point."

Rylen rolled his eyes with a smile. "Suppose, he says." He chuckled. "Anyways, how's everything else?" Cullen took a breath and rubbed his neck. "You look like you just got out of a fistfight with a bear." Cullen lowered his brows at him. He didn't look that bad. Did he? "You're no' eatin' are ya?" Cullen clenched his teeth. He's been surviving the last few weeks on half rations due to nausea. "Or sleepin?"

Cullen looked away. He guessed it did look that bad. Rylen took a breath and stepped closer. "I understand the intent, truly. But" Cullen looked at him with wide eyes. As a Templar, he knows the process. As a Templar, he's aware of the chain and collar. As a Templar, he knows the future of what's to come. Rylen took a breath and gave a reassuring smile. "What do ya need?"

Cullen rubbed his neck. There hasn't been a reported case of successful recovery from lyrium withdrawal recorded. Everything he's doing is just to soothe the symptoms hoping it covers the addiction. He took a breath. He needed the confidence to continue even as the memories keep haunting him and he fears he lacks the strength to even lift his armor in the morning. He took a breath. This will either make or break him. Either way, he needed to be prepared. He looked at Rylen. Cullen trusted him with everything in his absence. "Inquisitor Royoc has suggested a replacement."

Rylen arched a brow but nodded. "You were the political choice of convenience."

Cullen scowled only to see him smile playfully. Cullen met his smirk. "You always did know how to motivate people." He sighed. It was a joke when they left Kirkwall. Cassandra even told him that Divine Victoria wanted a Templar in the ranks of the Inquisition to offer a place of succor for them in case the worse should happen. Cullen just happened to be in the right place at the right time holding the right position. He looked Rylen over. "I was hoping-"

"No."

Cullen dropped his shoulders. "Captain, you would-"

"Noo" he stated emphatically then chuckled. "I've seen what you have to put up with. And between you and me, I'm not sure I'm patient enough for the nobles. One look at these tattoos" he pointed to his face then rolled his eyes. "Do you know how many Fereldan Nobles ask me if I'm Chasid?"

Cullen chuckled at his frank observation. "I'm not patient with them."

Rylen arched a knowing brow. "You've met me, right?" Cullen smiled. "I can barely keep my four companies in line and you want me to be in charge of eighteen? And growing?"

"Well, if you didn't spend time leering at my wife-"Cullen stated with a grin.

Rylen clicked his tongue. "Oh, now you admit it. I'm sure she'll be bonnie to hear it."

Cullen backed off quickly. "Please don't tell her."

"Aye. Aye." He waved it off. "I appreciate the opportunity, but they won't follow me as quickly as they did you. Besides, your story is more" he squinted his face looking for the word. He shrugged. "Just take the damn compliment."

"Thank you?" Cullen tilted his head, forcing the influx of his voice. "But, just so you're aware, if I do get replaced, I'm nominating you."

Rylen frowned. "Fine, see if I attend your wake."

He looked Cullen over in disdain that he laughed off. "You'll do fine."

Rylen only arched an annoyed brow, a downward turn on his lips. "Thank you for the confidence. But" he smiled. "It's a bit premature. We still have a war to win, and I have yet to prove myself as worthy of your title, Commander." He mocked the title but Cullen knew he was being sincere. "So, one step at a time, aye?"

Cullen nodded. "Correct."

"What else's do you need?"

Cullen puffed his cheeks in thought. Better supply lines, more food, better boots for the men, more ore for the forges, more horses, more Lieutenants with experience, fewer demons, more reliability on coffers. "a shave" Rylen suggested when Cullen took too long to respond. Cullen's hand went to his chin. He's been out of the office for two weeks and Josephine required one...last month. Cullen lowered his brows as he felt the hairs against his glove. What used to be a daily tasking in the order had fallen when he no longer trusted his hands to remain steady for the razor. "There's a barber in the camp that the men go to. I can send him up."

Cullen nodded. "I suppose I need one."

"Or" Rylen looked at the walls of the office. "I imagine there's one here in the keep. I'll have your Lieutenant track them down and send your way."

Cullen frowned slightly. "Messear Guilent talks too much. It's uhh" he rubbed his neck.

"It's uh, better than nothing," Rylen stated with his hands on his hips.

Cullen smiled. Thank the Maker for Rylen. He took a breath. "If you have the afternoon, I'd like to discuss some logistics and operations with you."

Rylen smirked. "Before or after I get your feared barber?"

Cullen shook his head at his friend and licked his lips. "After."

Rylen crossed his arms. The one-sided smile still on his face. "You're grooming me, aren't you?"

Cullen smiled. "Aye." He teased.

Rylen took a breath but held his hands up in surrender. "I can't avoid it, so" he sighed. "Let me find this barber, relay to my Lieutenants the plans, and we can discuss this at dinner meal. Is that alright, Commander?"

Cullen nodded. "Thank you."

Rylen walked around him. "Who knows, If there's time, we can get a few drinks afterward."

Cullen chuckled. "I doubt it."

"So do I. That's why you're supplying." Rylen spun on his heel and saluted as he exited. "Commander."

Cullen offered the salute back and let him leave. His eyes turned back to the oak box, and he shook his head. His wife, he thought. He looked at the bottle that Rylen had brought and saw it was Port. He put the bottle in the box, setting it on the floor as he started the stack of new missives with his purpose.

He took a cleansing breath. With the distraction out of the room, it was just him and the symptoms again. He forced himself not to quake under the ache of his back as he opened the first letter, and started to read.

Xxxxxxx

Which wolf. Uthreida thought as she looked at the moons. She had spent the day talking with the others trying to figure out a third option. But every time her mind came up with a plan to Bend Will on the Inquisitor and the inner circle, Paarthurnax words of caution always came back to her. Every time she thought of jumping, taking flight and doing it herself, she thought of Mirraks insanity.

Which wolf will she feed, she thought again, pulling the short blanket over her shoulders like a shawl as she looked at the mountains. It was late, and she had one self-imposed day left to decide. In truth, she knew she didn't have to. They could easily send her away without a guide and let her discover what she needed for herself.

These people needed help but she couldn't give herself without becoming a monster.

She didn't know where to go without razing cities in Fereldan or breaking her oath to the King.

She didn't know how to help her people without destroying them.

Her people are starving because of her actions. Her people are suffering because she chose Ulfrics lies over the Empires motives.

She looked at the moons again. Masser, or Lorkans head, watched her. She bit her lip and looked away.

Lorkan made Nirn to give people the chance to become better than they were so we all could achieve Chim in our own way. She needed to ascend the tower, not burn it to the ground. Talos though, did burn the tower and still achieved his status but moved out of love for the people.

She looked at the mountains and sighed. It's not about which wolf. It's not about being a bridge. It's not about the damn war that will always come. It's about the fucking dragon in her soul and the weight of those consequences on her mind and heart. Being a dragon is too easy. It's easy to be loved by the gods when you're created it their image. To have your purpose decided on the fact that you have wings. To have your power be the immutable truth of your claim. But to be mortal, it's your place to find your purpose and means. To find how you choose to climb the tower.

It was easier when the decision was made for her. It was easier in Skyrim to make these decisions. To be honest, most of the time it was accidental luck or "someone told me to."

Slaughter the cannibals in Markarth without so much as a conversation.

Kill Hakon before he could even speak.

Kill Alduin.

She took a breath. These were choices made for her. For all her talk of chains and slavery, was she any better than the ones holding the leash? Did she follow just because it's easier than making a decision on her own?

She looked at the moons again. Or does being mortal mean you're born into the chains? Each choice of right and wrong creating its own link. She shook her head. The chains are irrelevant. It's your strength to lift them. The more links, the more courage and perseverance you have. The chains are required. It's how you use them.

They say a good ruler serves the people, the tyrant enslaves. But how thin is the line between protection and tyranny?

And what does any of this have to do with the pseudo choice before her?

She could give into the blood, and take what is hers. Give this Corypheus no rest herself. Drown the army and seize what's left as hers as she took the land. Name herself Empress of Thedas. The Dragon of the world. Even now, seemed gosh to think.

Or, let the people rule themselves without her. To fight the blood and serve the people. Jarl Bulgruff, in his cell in Windhelm once told her that to be a servant of the people honorably is to be the enemy of the King. He had asked her, with a sneer on his face, if she was proud of the King she had crowned or just saw a fellow dragon in him because he could use the voice. Then asked, how long until they named her Queen.

She closed her eyes to the memories, the fear, regret, disillusionment of the war ate at her heart. How she was so easily lied to. How she was so naive to the movements of politics and people. How she let her own anger, fear, and resentment cloud her judgment about the Empire. How she could see her sister's bodies in that red tent. Beaten, cut, naked, young. Their dried blood splattered against the tent. She forced herself to see it again and force herself to bite back the tears. How she picked at the scar on her cheek to remind her of the Empire's Soldiers that stormed her family's home, killed her father, kidnapped and raped her sisters, then left her to die because she put up a fight. The lies she told herself to make believe Ulfric all the more 'honorable' even as Farkas warned her.

She looked at her hands, clutching the blanket around her shoulders. The Dovizoul tattooed on her fingers offered little comfort. The symbol of Talos on her hand only ringing louder than the words of 'Doom Driven' by the Living God, Tsun. Is that what she is, doom driven? Doomed to take a Crown?

Even Pelinal Whitesstrake served the people and didn't take the crown. She wasn't a ruler. She shouldn't be. The blood will grow greedy and she will demand more and more until the people die in the streets.

Too much power in one form should not strive for more.

She knew her future was Hrothgar or an assassin's blade as she sat on the Ruby Throne. It was only a matter of time. The more dragons she killed, the more like them she was destined to become until the hunter became the prey.

She looked at the mountains. The thought of force push against the mountains would bury Skyhold in the snow. How easy it would be to let this land fall into rubble. She could forge a new life here. She could do so much, but would only be limited to what she didn't know of the land. The history she hasn't read on yet.

She rested her back against the stone. During the Oblivion crisis, all nations fought to bring an end to Mehrunes Dagon. How is this situation any different? Mythic Dawn, Vinitori. All the same. The incarnate of Akotosh, and herself. Is history just repeating itself? The Dragon priests of both lands and now, Mirrak and Corypheus. Are they the same coin? Using mind control to enslave a nation to rise to their power to defeat their gods?

What's the point? She looked at the moons again and thought of the wolves.

You need pain to learn empathy

You need war to appreciate the peace

You need betrayal to learn loyalty

We need failure to find hope

Even the moon has two sides.

The arena has two seats, the specters, and the participants. Which side will she sit on? Life is suffering. She shouldn't increase it if she can.

Who will she move to help and protect the people while keeping the dragon at bay?

How often must she feed the dragon to learn how to master it? If it can be mastered.

How does all of this help her people?

She took a deep breath, and her father came to mind. A warrior does not worry about tomorrow when he has done all he can today. Helping Thedas helps Tamriel. This is Nirn. She knew it in her bones but only lacked the proof. If this Corypheus was intent to destroy Thedas, how long until Thedas's problems became Tamriel's problems? Better to learn what she can here to protect her home later. And the only way she can learn is to be small. They didn't need to know what she can do. They don't need to know what she's capable of if the intent is to protect Tamriel from their mistakes.

So how will she learn of this land?

The Lady of Iron almost laughed out of her chair when she asked what would be expected of her if she chose Lady Montilyet. She argued to have ties to the courts would help in trade in Skyrim. But Lady Viviane's off-handed "stick to dragons, dear" was an honest assumption. Then there was the unspoken understanding of the need to lie in court. The power of her Thu'um was derived from her truth. If she lied, she weakens herself. And in court, lies are just as common as ale. And by the gods, she hated lies.

She spoke to Scout Harding to ask of Sister Liliana and while the idea of being a scout was intriguing, Miss Harding made the notion that their job was to scout, not engage. And if she was being honest, she didn't know if doing all the work and letting the Inquisitor only seal rifts was a good or bad idea. She would gain all the prestige, and he would be...safe? She guessed. Miss Harding also suggested that the Inquisitor likes to be seen doing the work so the recruits know that he will protect them and not sit in his tower while they do the work. However, Uthreida had the feeling that the Inquisitor did the work to make sure the people knew it was him doing it. Not a random Soldier who would get all the accolades and valor.

She spoke to Bull but found his conversation was much like talking to any other dragon. He spoke in half-truths and hid what he could, though, he offered the same comfort. A man his size had to learn to hide his intelligence. He motioned that any route would appease King Alistair so long as Corypheus was put down the actual path didn't matter. But still suggested dragons so he could hunt as well.

Uthreida spoke to Cassandra who gave the most direct and compromising solution. Dragons, but help the hold. Stay busy by helping those who needed it. To be a linguistic liaison to all who needed it. She liked the idea.

But then Cole stopped her earlier. Warning her of the spirits and minds of the Fade. She couldn't 'remember exactly what he said, but remembered the chill run down her spine as he spoke of Nocturnal, Melphila, and Boheitha when he referred to the three advisors. Only to say something about how they are the same as Kyne, Dibolla, and Stenddar. The difference is intent.

Which brings her right back here. Who's intent? Hers or theirs?

Even Pelinal Whitesstrake would go elf bloodthirsty and is still a hero. So if that's the case, none of the courses matter. Which brings up an interesting idea, to be the fourth advisor to the Inquisitor. She had walked this road and made her own mistakes. She can see the power lust in his voice. He was a noble and was trained to say the right things. But in his eyes, she can see his ambitions. If he would even listen to her, that is. If her own dragon didn't steer him down the wrong road.

"My men say you been standing here for the last twenty minutes." Uthreida turned to see the Commander approach with a smile on his lips and clean-shaven chin. "Looking like you're about to either jump or punch the mountain." She looked him over. He had left his armor and weapons in his quarters. He wore a dark cloak over his shoulders as he leaned against the brick pillar. "Which is it?"

Uthreida took a breath. "I'm not in the mood for your games, Commander."

"It's no game." His smile turned empathetic. "It's a genuine concern." Uthreida looked at him with suspicion. "What are you doing out here this late?" Uthreida waited for the verbal assault. Or hopefully, he took the hint of silence and walked away. "Can't sleep?"

He was not getting the hint. She looked at the mountains again. Killing him would be so easy. But Leigh was watching her. She knew the agent was in good view as Uthreida threw her half a loaf of bread she stole from the kitchens before taking her place on the ramparts. Her father's voice came back, when you wrestle with pigs, you come away with their stench. She needed to be bigger than him. Let his weak voice pass like the wind until he has to face hers. She arched a brow in wonder, would bend will work as a whisper?

He took a breath to say something and she ground her teeth. Silence isn't always a bad thing. "It's been brought to my attention that I should apologize."

She almost broke her neck as she turned her head to look at him. She arched a brow. Then looked around to see if anyone was in earshot to hear the comment. To make sure this wasn't a joke. She looked at him, then away as she was unsure of how to process this from him. She could feel the questions run across her face.

He gave a soft chuckle. "Surprised me too."

Uthreida remained silent as she looked him over. Waiting for the betrayal. He took half a step closer. She took half a step back. He noticed and smirked. That damn smirk. "I've," he sighed, rubbing his neck, "been an ass."

Who is this man, she thought.

"I'm not expecting forgiveness-"

Done. No, be better.

"But I would ask that you not paint" he paused, looking at the mountains for the words. He exhaled loudly, running a hand across his face. He's never had to apologize for anything in his life, or this was all a lie. Or he's not prepared and just trying to get it out of the way. He looked her over. "After the Mire, it's apparent that I was wrong to accuse you of lying about where you come from. As a Fereldan, I shouldn't be so quick to call you a barbarian." He swallowed and looked away. "After seeing you slay two dragons, I was wrong to think that you could, that is," he rubbed his neck again. Uthreida understood it to be a sign of stress. "I've spoken to some of my officers. Having you with us has bolstered the morale of the men. After seeing you operate in the field, I'm starting to realize that there are areas of training that I overlooked. Yet, the men can feel the acrimony between us." He looked at her with pleading eyes, but a soft smile on his lips. "I am willing to" he exhaled before speaking. "To apologize for any wrongdoings that I may have caused. Real or imaginary."

Uthreida arched a brow. Great pride brings great humility or a great reputation. She looked him over, keeping her face neutral and checking her tone. How much of this was a ruse? "Where is this coming from?"

"The heart?" He gave a playful chuckle as he leaned further against the stone, crossing his arms and ankles. He looked at the mountains again. "When we fought, the first time, I saw everything I had sworn to defend against. And in my, ignorance of the situation, I failed to properly identify or" he exhaled. Then looked at her with solemn eyes. He trailed her form, but stopped at her throat. "There's no controlling you, is there?"

Uthreida remained silent. Let him believe in hope when she knows there wasn't.

He gave a single nod. "I've been advised to" he exhaled again and she smirked.

"Advised or ordered?"

He shrugged. "Yes." He chuckled to himself. "Advised that I, you know, it doesn't really matter. I mean-"

"You were so close."

He looked over to see her smirking at his humility even if it was a false show. "I've been advised to respect you as if you were my wife. Because that is what everyone is expecting even if it's not true."

"The respect or the wife?"

He paused. "Wife." He meant respect and Uthreida looked away. "You were right. About the knots, in the Mire." He leaned further into the stone, hoping to fade from eyesight as two of his men passed on their guard rotation. He eyed them until they were out of earshot. "I'm sure you already made up your mind on who you wish to work for. I just wanted the opportunity to formally apologize before it's too late"

Uthreida pursed her lips at him. Looking at him, she already knew the answer. She was just being a little dramatic bitch about it. It was an obvious choice. She cleared her throat. "I could use some advice as well, if you care to help." She stated lowly. She wanted to know his character now rather than what everyone kept preaching. "I was going to talk to the three of you tomorrow, but you're here now."

He made a noise but stood up. "Umm, of course."

"What course of action do you think I should take?" It was vague and open-ended. She wanted to see what he was thinking of and how he would react.

She watched his eyes move in thought. "That depends, what's the goal?"

How to protect her people, how to maintain her sanity, how to quiet the dragon. But this was his test. She vaguely shrugged and puffed her cheeks in indecision.

He smiled but looked at the same mountains. Uthreida watched him shiver slightly at a breeze but kept his eyes on the horizon. "I think you should go with Josephine."

Uthreida arched a brow. He was either doing what was expected and nominating another to make himself look humble in the hopes he proves his character, or actually wanted her out of his life. Which makes this whole conversation void. So, he is humble?

"If the intent is to secure trade with...Skyrim, right? You'll need allies from the other courts. It'll apply leverage to ensure Fereldan will give you the best prices. I would suggest Antiva or Ravine. Both have historically renowned Mariners. If their contracts tend to be more restrictive. And with the Ravini, there is the possibility that the Qun will learn where your land is. That said, if you follow that path, Fereldan is the one that is still suffering from the after-effects of the blight. Between that and Queen Anora's progressive changes, they are the most in need of trade. The only thing of notable export from Fereldan is Scotch. And a few kinds of cheese. The pairing is considered a fine delicacy." He added with a grin.

Uthreida considered what he said with a skeptical look. "Now that I've heard the official answer, what's your response?"

His grin turned slightly more predatory as he looked at her. "You once asked me what you had to do to prove yourself to me. I'm willing to start over if you are."

Uthreida was silent as she reviewed him. The man was intolerable and while he said start over, he could mean round two. "And why would I do that?"

He took a breath. "Honestly, I'm more concerned with my men than I am your comradery. They fear the dragons. You don't. But your presence comforts them. If you're taken out of the field that leaves my men or the Inquisitor to slay dragons that will halt or destroy our supply lines and scouting capabilities." He looked away. Shaking his head slightly. "I can't control you, but I can monitor. There will be things I can't tell you, just as I'm sure you won't tell me. But the fact is, you don't have to tell me everything. You don't even have to trust me. Just don't lie to me." He looked at her with eyes of determination as he stood his ground. "Keep my men safe, and I'll do what I have to to keep them off your back." He tilted his chin at the Inquisitr's balcony.

Uthreida looked at him with a tilted head. That's his enemy. She felt herself smirk. "And if I don't need your protection."

He arched a brow. "You don't need anyone. And that's what so frightening about this situation." She watched a flash of fear cross his eyes. "We can't control you. And we have no leverage. As a prior thief, I'm sure you could pick whatever lock you're in. There's no cage we can put you in. Even if we did, and released you on the field, you'd slaughter us and run, wouldn't you?"

She tried to hide the smirk, but he saw it. He looked at the tower again, taking a step closer. "They don't understand. They can't."

She tilted her head as she smiled. "And what don't they understand?"

"What you are." She smirked. Did he figure it out? Good on him. "I've spoken to the Avvar in camp. Do you know what your prophecy here is?"

"If I had to guess" she waved a hand. "Unification?"

"You're going to sack Thedas."

She smirked. "And I thought my choices were Hrothgar or the Ruby Throne. Always glad to know I have another option."

"They called you dragon because you're going to bring the end of times in this age." Uthreida snorted. "You have no care for this land or its people. So," he backed off, "I'm willing to submit if you don't use our army for your destruction. That we don't become the vehicle for your ascension."

She liked the idea of him kneeling. Of sewing his mouth shut. Of watching him submit. But having him choosing it, willingly, was boring. She exhaled. "Not that you'll believe me-"

"I'm literally out of options here."

She smiled. "I just want to go home. Feed my chickens. Help my people where I can." She looked at him. "But, our people, have a prevalence for war. So forgive me if I don't entirely buy your story or motive."

"Forgive me, for I hold the same sentiment."

She looked at him with respect. "But you value peace?"

He nodded his head quickly. "I've been without it for so long. I'd like to experience it at least once more."

She looked at him, feeling her eyes drop at the memories of battles and war. She nodded, "it has been too long."

"Agreed."

They looked over the landscape in silence. But her mind questioned his prophecy. She's not of this land. Did the Avvar mean Alistair? He's this lands Dovikiin. Will he destroy the land? She tightened her hands in her shall. "When will you tell your friends of your findings?"

"I don't have to."

She arched a brow at him. He was posturing or knew she would reveal herself on her own. She smiled. "Now I'm curious. Why is that?"

He grinned, "me." His tone was dark as he guttered the word.

Her smile became menacing. "You'll be the first I slaughter."

"And the last." He looked down at her, his smile was a promise of honorable death.

And her smile matched his. She licked her teeth at the idea of tasting his blood. "You certainly know how to keep a girl entertained."

His smile lighted as he leaned back. "Just my wife."

She scoffed. "By the Nine. I thought we agreed we weren't married."

He chuffed. "No no. Of course not." He leaned back on the stones. "Only when it's convenient."

"How is this Convenient?"

"It's throwing you off."

She opened her mouth to argue but snapped it shut. He was right. She growled and looked away, causing him to chuckle deep in his chest. She looked at him again. More seriously than before. He's going to be the one to kill her. Or so he thought.

He looked down at her with a serious expression on his face. The shadows of the moon giving him an intimidating look. "Whatever you decide to do, do it with the intent of keeping the people safe. Our success is your success. Help us end this."

She looked him over. "Knowing you have the intent to kill me-"

"Monitor" he corrected.

But she arched a brow at the interruption waiting. She stared him down with pursed lips until he remembered the apology he just made. He took a breath and backed off. "Why would I join you again when you can't even silence your tongue?"

He gave a humorous look but thought of his answer. He ran a hand through his hair. "I've yet to see any character trait that shows intent to help. But to keep the men safe, in the hope that you keep your word, I will do what I have to."

She took a breath but felt her jaw clench at the backhanded compliment. "I can tell you're struggling with this." She said between her teeth. Even after an apology, he's still picking fights. "I have tried to be humble. I have tried to withstand your slander and torts gracefully. But my patience has a limit. I do not want your trust, but I have done nothing to earn your flagrant disrespect." He scoffed. She shook her head. It doesn't matter how many times she yields because of his position, the man can't take a damn hint. He wants a monster. And her blood was boiling. Enough is enough. It's time to put him in his place. "Tinvaak vahzen " she whispered, moving so his back was to the closest agent. The Commander took a deep breath but looked at her with lowered brows. Confusion on his face. "Allow me to put this into perspective. I don't trust a single thing you're saying right now. So let's be honest. Why do you want me in your army?"

"To kill the archdemon." Cullen looked confused at the words he just spoke, then at her accusation. "What did you do?"

She waved it off. "Simple truth spell. Was your apology sincere?"

"Yes." He looked angered again, forcing his hand not to cover his mouth to answer any more of her questions.

Uthreida smirked. An actual apology but he's not acting like it. The Commander bit his thumb to stop himself from speaking. "What did the Avvar tell you?"

He smiled. There was something in his eyes that made her smile of dominance falter. He pulled his thumb from his mouth. "Nothing. I bluffed. It was a combination of the stories you tell and your own hubris."

Her smile returned and turned into a chuckle then a laugh. She overplayed her hand and proved his theory right. He took a step forward and smiled down at her. She met his gaze and smiled. "When are you going to tell your friends of your suspicions of me?"

He leaned down to her level. "As soon as you choose not to join the Army."

Uthreida smirked and stepped close into his space. "Tell them whatever you like. You've fought against me since I've been here. I've passed your blood mage test. I could command you to walk off the ramparts. I could watch you swim in the lake over there until your organs shut down from the cold. And they won't believe a word you say. Because you've tried so hard to prove that I'm exactly what you think I am. And the best part" she took a step closer, putting her hand to his chest in a mocking intimate embrace and her smile growing at his discomfort "our conversations always end with one of us dissatisfied. So the agents watching us now will think it's just another one of our conversations." She smiled wildly at him and all he did was sneer. "What color is the sky, Commander?"

He snarled. "purple." Then smirked. "You can only ask four questions with that spell, can't you?" He circled her. "How long is your recharge?"

Uthreida smiled at his brazen. "I grow tired of your disrespect."

"It's mutual."

She lowered her lids as she smirked. "Mine's enforceable." She took a step back. "I'll give you one more day to try that apology again. But go, run. Tell anyone who will listen. But I must ask, to what benefit is it to the men, who you want me to protect, when they find out that I can do this thing, you think I can do?" She turned from him, waiving a good night as she left him on the ramparts in the evening air.

Xxxxxx

Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit

Cullen stood in the office listening to the weekly logistic personnel meeting with only one word crossing his mind was silenced when people were talking but kept coming back when he had to analyze the field. That meeting went horrible as his mind was everywhere else but on the task at hand. He had horrible notes for the operations meeting later that day, but thankfully, it was an overview briefing of the possibly of Orlais and not an actual plan of action.

His anxiety was going out of proportions as he tried to focus on work. But he kept reflecting on last night. She controlled him. Not with a fade spell, but her voice...thing. He didn't even sense she was pulling from the fade when she did it. She controlled him. Further, she was damn right.

If he calls her out, Liliana will say he's acting like Meredith. Liliana, the closest to the ear of the Inquisitor will sack him for sure. He'll blame the lyrium. If he told anyone of what she could do, the men will lose more trust in her. Or him. She passed the Maleficarum trial. No one is going to believe him.

He felt the quill shake in his hand. Now what?

Now become Meredith? Afraid of his own shadow? Afraid of every mage like he used to be? Turning his men into his eyes to wait for her to do it again. Shit.

He hated being right. He had to warn someone. He had to do something, but who would believe him? Who would look past his history with Meredith to see he's not crazy.

He tried to make amends and here he is now. He should've quit while he was ahead. He was making progress. It was going well. And then his stupid mouth. He was honest. You think she'd appreciate that.

And now they have a mage on their hands, who can control people, that can't be traced. Shit.

He wondered for a moment if he could get her to fill a phylactery. Doubtful.

He rested his face in his hands. This woman is going to raze Thedas and he's going to be left in the ashes screaming I told you. He took a breath and leaned back. He looked in silence at the bookshelves, letting the silence of the moment overrule him. He breathed again, forcing his blood to stop rushing. Breathe.

Just breathe.

Breathe past the soreness.

Breathe past the exhaustion

Calm the battle and find the solution

He closed his eyes and saw the candle from the Templar training when he was boy. He focused his breathing. Enough to flicker, but not enough to put out.

Breathe.

Find peace in the Maker's light.

He opened his eyes and looked at the bookshelf. It was full of history of military conquests, battles, maps, but nothing that spoke of how to defeat or control dragons. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling of his office. He reviewed their conversations. Her answers to basic questions were aloof at best. When she wasn't loud, she was observant. He took a breath. Rylen was right. He was afraid of her. He's been afraid of her since the first day they met. He's just learned how to lie to himself.

She's trained in ways he's never seen. She holds values that he's questioned She is every inch the counter culture that he feared. But she was brave. Steadfast. And, maker damned, stubborn. Of all things he's seen, how can he use any of it to his advantage?

He looked out the window in thought as a crow passed by. He lowered a brow. She can control people but hasn't used it yet. He knew he was being controlled which means Rylen would know. She didn't use it on him during the trial. Even if she controlled Rylen and Liliana. Liliana would have-

Liliana wouldn't have cared and would use it as leverage to get her to join the agents. If Uthreida joined the agents, that's how Liliana would blackmail her. Cullen grunted. That was his plan. And the fact that it sounded like something Liliana would do, made him feel a little disgusted. But effective. But dishonorable. But adventitious

So why control Cullen? Why demand honesty if she could control his body and mind? Force him to kill himself or do something worse. Was it a fear tactic? Because it's working.

He stood and paced his office, keeping a piece of parchment in his hand to look busy in case someone walks in. Royoc would be the obvious choice to control. He's the Inquisitor. But as far to his knowledge, she's never been alone in the same room as him. She wouldn't have the opportunity.

What benefit comes from controlling Cullen? The fact he couldn't say anything? Keeping her powers secret? Maker's breath, how many powers does she have? How powerful is she? His eyes grew wide. She wasn't fazed at his lie of destroying Thedas. She could do it. She could-

But she keeps saying she just wants to go home. She doesn't care about Thedas but wants to secure trade with Fereldan. She'll topple Thedas to do that? But she told Royoc that she had no desire to cripple the Inquisition or take it from him. Was she lying? She turned away from her thieves training. What else is she turning away from?

He looked at his hands. He saw the blood of the countless mages he's killed, then looked at his armor. He chose this armor. He chose to turn away from the Templars. He chose to leave that behind him. He chose to resist the calling of lyrium.

Does she choose the same path? He took a deep breath.

Pretending she is, in fact, a dragon like the Avvar think she is, he shuddered at the thought. She let him keep the gold from the betting from the Frost Back dragon that he gave to the armory. That's not greed. That's glory at the very least. She urged to keep the men back in the Mire. She cared about them. Took care of them on the trip. She chose not to slaughter the Avvar out of ancient rites. She genuinely wanted to help Royoc in Redcliff.

If she is a dragon, wouldn't all of this go against her nature?

He found himself looking at the red apple on his desk. Red, like the lyrium his brothers are drinking. Does she fight her instincts like he does? He lowered his brows. Is that possible? There's no way it's possible.

He grunted. Like there's no way there are other lands undiscovered on the map? Like how it's impossible to understand every language in Thedas? How it's impossible to lie to Liliana's face and have her believe it?

He shook his head. Between Royoc stumbling out of the Fade with a magical mark on his hand that can seal fade rifts, an ancient Tevinter magister that corrupted the Golden City now leading a Red Templar and future Demon army, and now a dragon pretending to be a human, anything is possible at this point.

So why reveal it to him?

He was being an ass. Fine. But of what use comes from controlling him? Is she after the army? Why? Royoc certainly didn't see the merit in it. Does she?

It's because he can't talk about it without sounding like he's howling at the moon. To put him in his place or to-

The door swung open and Cullen grabbed his chest quickly in surprise. He turned to see her walking into his office. He took a step away from her.

Uthreida slowed her walk with a look of suspicion. She looked behind her quickly and reset her face. "I assume you know my best friends, Luck and Shadow?" She jutted a thumb behind her to indicate the two agents that entered.

Cullen took a deep breath as he looked at the group that was forming. He removed the thoughts that had been plaguing him earlier to show irritation. "Slayer." He stated with a nod. "What can I do for you?" He looked her over to see she was in her usual 'lounge' garb of her black gambeson, trousers and boots. No weapons. No armor. He was thankful but knew she could still shout him into submission. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail at the back of her skull and formed loose ringlets over her shoulder. "I've spoken to the other two advisors, and now it's your turn."

He felt his body grow stiff. "For what?"

She smirked, but looked playfully confused. "Well, with the contract changing. Should I fall under the forces of the Inquisition, what would my duties, obligations, and tasking be? Further, what do you have to offer the other two do not?"

Cullen allowed the answer to form on his face. He wanted to call the agents out but also needed the audience so she couldn't control him again. "You must love torturing me."

"Actually, I appreciate the challenge." She looked around the room looking for something. "Can one of you get a chair?" She asked the agents who looked at her with an annoyed expression. "He's only got the one."

One of the agents rolled their shoulders and stepped outside for a moment and returned.

Cullen took a deep breath and walked behind his desk to sit down. He shot back the remnants of his tea, glowering at her. She looked amused at him but no sign of ulterior motive. He pulled the bottle of scotch hidden in his desk and poured a dram into the cup. He looked at her. Poured another and sealed the bottle. His cup, now a double shot of scotch, and sipped. He leaned back, knowing day-drinking wasn't a wise idea but would need it in this situation. "What do you want again?"

"If I fall under the Inquisition Forces, what are my expected duties and obligations?" she asked with an innocent smile. As if last night never happened. As if she didn't speak him to comply with truth.

He swirled the cup at the obvious conversation. They discussed this last-

He lowered his brows as a thought crossed his mind. And smiled. "It's just occurred to me." He looked at her and crossed his arms. "I'm in a position to say no."

Her soft smile faltered and one of the agents snorted. "Ha?"

Cullen leaned forward on his desk. "What do you have to offer the Inquisition Forces? Why should I take you on?"

Her jaw went agape for a moment. "Ha?"

"Why should I put up with you?"

Another agent entered the room holding a chair and brought it to his desk allowing her to sit down with him. Uthreida offered a quick thank you by name, and sat. "You're joking?"

"In hindsight, dragons tend to keep to themselves if left alone. As long as we stay out of their territory and only watch for Red Templars and Vinitori in the area, we shouldn't need you. So, why should I hire you to possibly aggravate dragons in the field?"

She lowered her brow at the obvious objective. "To kill the archdemon."

"But as you've previously stated, if it's not in the field, it's not a priority. So why is hiring you a priority? What do you have to offer other than dragon slaying?"

She looked away with a smirk. He smiled as he sipped his scotch from the teacup. She smiled at him, her teeth hidden at his power move. "You want me to justify…why I…should slay dragons…to keep your men safe?"

He grinned. "Yes."

"That's rather bold of you to assume that I even want to be under your charge."

"I thought you liked the challenge." Cullen leaned back. "Do you have a reference? Validations?"

Uthreida shook her head in shame at him. Her smile growing but still playing his game. "References? Aye, let's see uh, King Ulfric, King Alistair, Agrir of the Grey Beards, and Isran Heavy Arm, and Balgruuf the Greater. Also, as a secondary reference, Arl Tegan Guerrin of Redcliff and Teyrn Fergus Cousland of Highever. Oh, you've never met them? Any of them? Hmm. For validations, you can speak to my previous employer, Cullen...something. He was in the Inquisition but we only work together for about a month. But he can attest to my capabilities as he oversaught two dragon slayings in Fereldan."

One of the agent coughed to hide their face from him. Cullen chose to ignore it as he looked at her. "We're there any other services you provided to these individuals?"

She drilled her fingers into his desk while still smirking. Enjoying his game of dominance but thinking he couldn't win this. Her perception only driving his predatory instincts. "Aye. As a Thane to five holdings, I am excelled at clearing out bandit's, monsters, and undead. I also excelled at occasional retrieval missions for the people and my King. I also engage in philanthropy and industry investments that selfless stimulations of the economy. Under King Ulfric, I was instrumental in the seize of two major holdings in Skyrim during the civil war: Whiterun and Solitude. Which lead to minimal casualties on both sides but still achieved the mission objective."

Cullen arched a brow. "You seized two cities?"

"Aye?"

"How long was the siege?"

"Two weeks."

He smirked. "They must not have been ready?"

"They were well prepared." Her smile fading from her face as she took offense to the observation.

"How did you seize the cities?"

She leaned back, all jokes were removed from her face as she looked him over. Her fingers drilling on his desk deciding how to answer. She finally breathed. "We walked in the front gate."

Cullen removed his smile with her. "How?"

Her eyes portrayed a moment of pain before she reset her mask and leaned forward. She canted her head slightly and smirked. The look of dominance she had last night returned but her silence led him to the worse case scenario. She forced her way in. Or with her thieves training, she snuck in and opened the gate from the inside.

Either way, she sacked the cities. "How large were these cities?"

She leaned back with a shrug. "Comparable to or larger than that of Redcliff."

Provided she was telling the truth, she could halt a seize in a matter of days. Looking at her, her eyes, actions, she was telling the truth. After what she revealed last night, she didn't have the need to lie to him. He waved it off like it was nothing. "Any other skills I should be aware of?"

She smirked at him knowingly. "Well, I am a fifth-generation part-time blacksmith so, I know my way around a forge. If you ask nicely, I might make you a better suit of armor than," she waved her fingers at him, "whatever that is." Cullen shot her an annoyed look but let it go. "I am also a first-generation minor enchanter. However, my lands methods of enchanting are different from yours. I'm not sure how they translate but I am willing to learn. I'm better with a bow, but my axe is never too far. Compounded with my sneak thief training" she said with an ostentatious wink, "I'm able to get into most places mostly undetected." She clicked her tongue at him like she just completed her sale.

Cullen fought back the urge to laugh at her waving gestures and charismatic smile. Sadly, the skills she listed could be helpful for the army. "Any other skills?"

She leaned forward so her elbows were on his desk. "I'm very empathic to the people around me and-" Cullen laughed through his nose at her blatant lie. She looked playfully annoyed at his interruption. "Singing, lock picking, oh and dragon slaying. I always forget that one. Now, before you ask," she waved a hand theatrically, "My weaknesses are sweet rolls, ale, I'm very suspicious of everyone around me, and I do have a bad back." Cullen lowered his brows at the last comment, wondering what that had to do with anything. "Dragon attack. It tried to eat me. Damn near bit me in half. Do you have any more questions?"

"How about temperament?" He asked with a smile. "Think you could work well with people you don't particularly have a fondness for?" She smirked. "How about professionalism? Can you deescalate situations when tempers flairs" She looked away knowing he was speaking of the Mire situation. "What about commitment? Can you commit yourself to a cause that you don't believe in?"

Her smirk turned slightly offended. "You question my commitment?"

"No no, dear lady. Perish the thought." He stated deadpanned, swirling his scotch. "I'm curious what you think your level of commitment is to the Inquisition."

She popped her jaw, looking at the agents behind her. She looked at him with agitation as she leaned forward and whispered loudly "This is why I don't like you." Her face scrunched in patronization display of authority.

Cullen smiled in victory. "And that's the difference between you and me. I'm willing to kneel to protect the men in the Inquisition. To protect this land. Whereas all you seek is glory and subjugation." Her fist hit the desk and he arched a brow. That hit a nerve. Cullen leaned back in his chair, watching her as she tried to compose herself. He watched her growing sneer slowly simmer into silent disdain. Cullen checked his tone before speaking. If he did press her patience as she said, he wanted to make a good show for the agents. "Why should I hire a dragon slayer who cannot control her temper?" He asked slowly. "Why should I hire an expensive asset when I could use the money made from such adventures to better profit the men such as better boots, meals, or armor and weapons? Of what benefit can you bring the Inquisition if removed from the field?"

Uthreida looked him over and took a deep breath. She leaned back, crossing her arms. Her hair moved as she shook her head at him. "What would you have of me?" Her voice low. Though off-handed, she was willing to see what he had to offer.

Cullen took a breath, looked at the agents, and templed his hands. "I'd like for you to train the men when not engaged in-"

"No."

He arched a brow. "No?" She kept her eyes away from him as he spoke. "Why?"

She didn't look at him when she licked her lips. "When our people go to war, I don't want you to know how our military works."

Cullen smiled. "You've already told me your people don't have a Calvary. The fact that you're uninterested in catapults tells me your people have them as well. You have shown that you work better alone. That you have never been trained as part of a military unit. You don't want to teach my men, because you have no idea how to operate in a military manner."

He saw a flash of silent wonder on how he pieced it together. Her eyes searching his, only to smirk at him. Her head tilted in a silent confession. "That's impressive."

Cullen washed the compliment aside. "For all your show and bluster, of your conquests, how many of the teams you've worked with were willing to stand next to you in battle? Who were unafraid of your berserker tendencies?" Her smirk died on her lips as she watched him. "How many times did they send you forward into the fray without a single care if you died?" She was no longer smiling but kept her head straight as she looked him over. "How many times did you question why?" He watched her take a deep breath, her icy eyes searching for a moment, only to smirk at him again, hiding whatever she was truly feeling at his statement. He had her.

"That's very interesting, Commander. If that is how you truly feel given the circumstances, would I be the best person to train your men on how to fight then?"

She had a point. "Perhaps not as a unit. But basic swordsmanship or archery would be preferred."

She laughed comically. "You want me to train raw recruits?"

"Yes."

"The dragon slayer?" He arched a brow at her hubris. "What I mean is, raw recruits, fresh from farms and cities, meeting a person who boldly slays dragons, with a short temper, who isn't there for stories that they will want to hear, to train them."

Damnit. He smirked at her smile. "There has to be something useful you can do."

She gave a slow nod. "Maybe. In truth, I would still like to learn more of this land before I started to train others in...Whatever you want me to. To help balance the difference, if you will."

Cullen agreed with a nod. "I can see the merit in that." He stated slowly. He looked her over. "From the sounds of it, you preferred our previous arrangement?"

"Aye. It allowed me time to read and learn the history and some culture of Fereldan. As well as read over the Chant of Light."

He arched a brow. She threw that last one in to buy her favor. Cullen waved a hand. "What did you learn?"

"Flora, fauna, and some historical antidotes."

He leaned forward and looked her over with skepticism. "You've been here for a month and that's all you learned?"

She gave a guilty smile. "Some of the magical applications here were different from my home and wanted to learn of it but found that I lacked the aptitude to fully appreciate the delicate intricacies or the diverse understanding."

He watched her as she tried to smile it off. He smirked. He learned a few things standing guard in the tower. "Such as? I might be able to help elaborate."

"I don't want to waste your time, Commander. It was a small, passing, humbling, curiosity." She gave a humble laugh that he met.

"Try me." She looked at him in spite as he opened the door and refused to back down.

Uthreida rolled her shoulder subtlety and smirked. "I was trying to research the Fade. It seemed familiar, yet, I had never heard of it before. I was hoping to find some fleeting light into what it might be, but" she gave a mild shrug.

Cullen could tell she was hiding something, but the vagueness of her answer and the Fade itself, he let it go. "Many a scholar lose their minds trying to unravel the mysteries of the Fade. Perhaps you were wise to abandon it."

"Perhaps." She nodded quickly in agreeing.

Cullen took a breath. "If you fall under the forces again, I'd like for you to work with the smiths and enchanters. Try to find a common ground of both. I'll allow you access to the library as well. However, when you travel, you will move with an element of the Inquisition" she squinted her eyes, but kept her mouth shut. "As I've reiterated time and again, the economic loss we receive for your pay is greater than gain of your services." She looked playfully annoyed. "I will not budge on this. If you choose to follow the army, it will be with the full backing of the Inquisitions might."

"Men of my choosing?"

"Mine." He shot her down quickly. A rotational guard so she can't grow too friendly. Abuse or control those around her. Having her movements masked with changing of guards could keep her away from the Vinitori sights as well.

"Done." She stated quickly.

Cullen looked her over. She appeared to be telling the truth that she agreed. "Excellent. However, the choice is still yours to make." He took a deep sip of his scotch as he looked at her. "You've spoken to the advisors now. Who will you choose?"

She leaned back in her chair. Looking in thought. "What would happen," she asked dreamily," if I didn't choose?"

"I beg your pardon?" Cullen asked with lowered brows.

She looked at him and smirked. "You are in a position to say no. As am I. Will you send me on my way? If I don't choose anyone?"

Cullen took a breath. If she wasn't useful, she wasn't needed. "Probably."

"So I could just...walk away?" Her eyes held a gleam of hope as she looked at him.

"You were brought here to be supervised and ensure you don't end up in the hands of the Vinitori." He took a breath. "With your alliance with King Alistair, it may prove to be more difficult."

"So, even if I don't choose, I'm still trapped here?"

"Still supervised." He tilted his chin to the agents on the other side of the room.

She hmmed, leaning further into her chair. "Don't suppose I could work in the kitchens?"

"No" he stated emphatically. Last thing he needed was stomach cramps sweeping Skyhold.

She grunted, then smirked. "You know what I've always wanted to learn, but never had the time? Embroidery."

Cullen chuckled as he looked away from her. Feared dragon slayer, hero of the people, walking war machine, wanted to learn the humble and feminine art of embroidery?

"Or knitting."

Cullen tried not to laugh as his imagination ran with the image of her, mind-controlling the entire hold of the Inquisition as slaves, sitting on the throne, issuing orders, with a ball of yarn at her feet and two needles in her hands as she knitted a scarf. Some old nan standing over her left shoulder telling her to maintain tension on the yarn.

"Why are you laughing?"

"It's a waste of your talents." He said between fits, wiping tears from his eyes.

She looked passively offended. "I never learned, alright. And it's both neat and annoying. I mean. If I can craft an entire suit of armor, why can't I create a picture out of thread."

He chuckled again. "Because I've seen your drawings." He gave a pained expression but she looked confused. "Your travel journal. Your portraits and landscapes were novice, at best."

She just groaned. "Shush. I was going off of memory. Besides," she fiddled with her hands as she spoke, "most of the time I forget who I'm helping, so I doodle the face if I forget the name. Shut up. It works for me."

He chuckled again as he looked at her sheepish methods of dealing with minor memory loss. He shook his head in shame. She looked at the bookshelf for a moment, then smirked at him. "Thank you for your time, Commander Cullen. But if it's alright with you, I'd like to speak to my husband for a few moments."

Cullen pulled his head back, his eyes going to the agents quickly. They didn't move from their posts during the conversation and kept a straight face at her phrasing. She stood, picking up the chair. Cullen watched with wide eyes as she moved to his side of the desk. He fought the urge to run as she grew closer. She placed the chair next to his, but her back to his desk as they sat side by side. He looked at her wide blue eyes and thick black kohl. The scar that ran down her left cheek and noticed the light freckling across her nose and cheeks. Her thick lower lip moving into a soft smile at him. He took a breath to lower his blood pressure and smelled thistle and holly berries. What is she doing?

"I want to apologize."

He arched a brow not believing her. "For last night?"

"No." She stated after a quick pause, then smiled at his frown. "I meant in general. This" she waved her hand back and forth between them, widening her eyes, and sighing. "And how we got here." She smirked but looked away thoughtfully. "You were trying. Last night. So, maybe I should try." She shot a look of cunning at him. "With the same effort."

Her smile told him that she was having too much fun at his expense. She leaned over into his space, but moved like she was pulling something from her belt pouch. Sitting upright, she held some folded knit in her hands. "I'm told you're a practical man, so, I got you something everyone needs, but always forgets to buy." Cullen arched a brow. "Socks."

He snorted, looking away from her as his hand covered his mouth. He fought off the urge to smile at the worst riddle in the world that happened to be an accurate one. He forced a serious demeanor as he looked back at her. But between her facial expressions like she was proud of a pun, the curl of her shoulder to show innocents and excitement, and the wide eyes that could take in the majesty of the mountains, he looked away, forcing back a different smile. He grunted, not wanting to reveal his intentions or show she had some redeeming qualities. But the thought of speaking threatened to laugh. He held his hand open to her. She placed the bundle of socks in his hand. He pursed his lips. He did need more socks. He ran his thumb over the knitting and arched an appreciative brow. He threw the socks on the other side of the desk and looked at her as she kept the same smile. The silent moment passed where it was obvious he wasn't going to forgive her for anything she had done. She smirked, taking his silence and what it meant. "I shall endeavor to treat you with more respect that is deserving of my husband."

Cullen took a deep, cleansing breath as he felt the eyes of agents judging them and laugh. Though they remained silent. He looked at her, trying in vain to remove all emotions from his face. She saw his struggle and smirked, knowing his face as on display for the agents, not hers.

He was losing, and he knew it. He threw back the shot of Scotch that was left in the cup and looked her over. How do you respond to that? 'As you should' seemed too misogynistic. He swallowed his retort. He watched her eyes race across his face between his cheeks, eyes, and ears. Maker, was he blushing? She smiled wider as she apparently got the reaction she was looking for.

Cullen scowled as he looked away, no longer caring for what she saw. She scooted her chair closer and he leaned away. This woman wielded awkward intimacy like a weapon. "So, treasure," She smiled and Cullen could tell it was a pet name. He rolled his eyes away from her and groaned in pain, "I come to you now, begging" Cullen looked at her with lowered brows. Begging? "What should I do now?" She threw her voice as is theatrically frustrated but speaking to a friend rather than him. She moved and threw her arm over the back of her chair to look at him more comfortably. "I mean, that commander guy is a right goatsbeard, aye?" Cullen leaned forward, hiding his face from her in exhaustion from her over-the-top antics. "Just a right prick, eh?" He looked to the heavens for patience as he realized that having an actual, normal conversation with her would be next to impossible. "So fucking pompous." Cullen looked at the agents who were smirking, but not moving to interrupt. He shook his head in contempt. "But at the same time, my choice is the milk-drinking sow or the...beautiful, uh, honorable, and skilled, kind, mistress of the rook." She cleared her throat. "Aye."

Cullen looked at her dead on. A milk-drinking sow or Liliana. He fought with everything to force the teasing smile off his face, hiding it as best he could with a relaxed hand. She met his eyes and only smiled. Faking whatever plight she was in. Cullen took a deep breath. She was having a conversation with her 'husband' and not the 'commander.' Cullen popped his jaw and smiled to play her insipid game. "Well, obviously, you should go with Lady Josephine."

She made a disgruntled sound in her throat, Throwing her head back in an over-dramatic frustration. "But then I'll feel bad for the men in the army. The ones who look at me and see honor" she moved as if she was a hero, "duty", standing on the sheer side of a cliff, moving her imagined caplet off her shoulders, "courage" moving her head as if some wind ran over her face. Her expression was of stoic resolve as she looked into the distance, of the wall.

Cullen watched her say all of this with a straight face and was able to silence the laugh, but not the physical reactions as he looked away from her. He took a breath and leaned back in his chair. "That's...not...what they see at all." The laughter still in his voice. She looked at him with a mild offense as her lips were playfully pouted to make her point. Cullen openly smiled at her display. "Look, the men will be fine. They'll get over it."

"Aye, but then they'll blame the Commander." She whined. Her lit eyes and smirk as she waved her arms to show frustration at the situation. Cullen rested his temple on a fisted hand, patiently waiting for her to finish. She looked away, pulling herself into her own chair. He noticed how small she sat with her knees crossed and her hands in her lap. He realized how wide he was sitting in comparison. "I'm concerned for the dragons." Her voice was low, a small conversation between the two and not the agents. "Will the men attack if I'm not there? How will they handle it?" She looked dramatically panicked again, severing the honest talk he would be more inclined to have.

"They'll be fine."

She sighed. "I suppose you have a point. But how do you polity tell a jackanape no." She looked at him with a smile that caused him to throw his head back. Jackanape. Alright. Alright. "It's not you, but it's you."

Cullen looked to the ceiling, shaking his head at the Maker. "I don't deserve this" he stated with a smirk.

"I mean, the man even talks to himself."

Cullen shook his head. "Well, darling" he growled, causing her to smile wider, "jackanapes are tamed and trained." He stated with teeth bared. "I'm sure 'he'll' understand."

She sighed deeply. "Are you sure? I don't want to upset him. His emotions and ego are so easily bruised."

Cullen took a deep breath to not strangle her, and fight off the smile on both of their faces. He breathed again, hunching over his desk as he looks at her. "This reminds me of a particular soldier I've been having issues with."

Her playful smirk turned malicious as she leaned back in her chair. "Oh, dearest treasure, what ails you so?"

He arched a brow. "Treasure?"

"Aye" Cullen shook his head in confusion as she smiled. "I adore you so much that I want to bury you so deep in the earth that no one will ever find you again."

"Right," Cullen stated emotionless. "Look, as fun as this is for them" he waved a hand to the agents for her understanding. "Are you done?"

"No," her look a mock of pain, "I will never be done with you." He looked annoyed at her. Knowing she will never stop trying to kill him by raising his blood pressure to the point of death or just stabbing him. She gave a quick smile but leaned back in her chair more relaxed. "You mentioned mutual marital respect." She looked at him, a soft dusting of pink across her ears and scar was the only indication of a mild blush from her. "We're from different cultures. So how would that" she waved a hand between the two only to place it on her lap in thought. "What are your expectations?"

He looked her over. She was on the level and had an earnest question stated at him. She wanted things to be better between them and was willing to try. Again. But the memory of being unable to control himself, the memory of being forced to tell the truth, while he was, still unnerved him. He leaned towards her, wrapping his arm around the back of her chair, her body hiding his face from the agents as he quietly whispered in her face "not magically controlling me would be a good start."

"As you say." She whispered back, a small smile on her lips.

"You could at least pretend to apologize for that."

She tilted her head at him. "I will not lie to you, Commander." She said softly, the roll of her tongue on his title held and lit of a smile forced his stomach to contract. Her ice-blue eyes looked down at him as he sneered up at her.

He threw himself back into his chair. The conversation she wanted was more intimate than what he wanted for the show in front of the agents but needed them if she did it again. "Are you going to do it again?"

"Are you going to control your tongue?"

He took a breath. She was calm and ready to speak, but only if he was. Cullen breathed deeply. He gave a quick nod before looking at the agents. "Leave us." He barked at them, letting the boom of his voice fill the office.

They looked at one another. "Sir, our orders are to watch-"

"Out" he loudly ordered again, catching the two jump at his rise in voice. "Guard the door if you must, but leave."

The two didn't move until he arched a brow and sneered at them. Even sitting across the room and sitting down, he expected his orders to be obeyed. The two exchanged looks but saluted quickly. Each taking a different door and shutting behind them.

"Thank you," Uthreida stated, throwing her head back in exhaustion. "Those three are, very good at what they do."

Cullen crossed his arms as he glowered. "By the Maker, if you so much as-"

"Commander-" her tone exhausted.

"I will see you hang."

"Stop." She took a deep breath. Her hands rubbed her face, missing her kohl. She looked at him with tired eyes, slouching in her chair as she waited for the next comment. Cullen arched a brow. "Aren't you tired yet?"

"Of?"

"This?" She waved her hand between them. "This constant, just" she breathed. "It's exhausting. I don't like talking to you because you're just so" she looked him over. "Loud."

She was emotionally tired and physically. He only now noticed the dark bags that her kohl was hiding. She leaned forward stretching her back. He wondered if she played this same ruse with the other advisors. But judging from her lack of playful mask, she didn't.

Cullen clenched his jaw. "Can you at least explain to me why you did that? Why did you force me to...Maker, I don't even know what you did."

She rubbed her neck. "Compelled you to speak the truth?" She asked with a tired smirk.

He took a fear-induced breath. "Why? How?"

She leaned back, finding a vague shrug. "You were being an arse." He pursued his lips at her vague answer. "And sometimes, you got to remind people who their talking to." She looked at him with half-lidded eyes. "As for the how," she waved her hands to herself as if she was some prize to be won and smiled at him with the same idea.

He lowered his brows. "That doesn't answer my question."

She looked him over. "The spells that control dragons can also be used on humans." Cullen leaned back away from her. He saw what her power can do in the field. He swallowed hard. "I don't use them often."

"Only on people who don't know who they're talking to, apparently."

She smiled. "Precisely" she looked him over. Her eyes falling to his throat.

He swallowed. "Why?"

"I don't trust you." She stated bluntly, her smile indicating the truth and obvious statement. "So when you were apologizing, I wasn't believing you. But, after being compelled, you said you were being honest in your attempt." She shrugged. "It's worth something."

"Have you used this on anyone else?"

She shook her head. "Not in Thedas."

Cullen nodded. "Give me your hands." She quirked a brow at him. "You're not the only one who can sniff out a lie. Your hands."

She held her hands to him. "Remove your gloves." She did so slowly as Cullen stood, moving his chair so it sat before her. He removed his own gloves as he looked at her hands. Her left held a scar through the center of her left hand. He arched a brow at the odd scar. "Pike to the hand." She stated as if it would reassure him.

Cullen arched a brow. Rylen stated she was clean and he would've seen such a scar. Cullen took a breath. For his own safety, he pressed the scar as he pulled his own aura into the wound. He felt himself become enveloped into her wound. He didn't feel any pull from the fade or a push from a demon. He grunted. She was clean. He moved his fingertips to the pulse on the side of her wrist. "Is your name Uthreida?"

She pulled back and smirked. "You know my name?" She asked playfully, putting a hand to her chest.

He shot her a board expression. "Answer the question."

She smiled as she looked at him. "Yes, that is my name."

Cullen felt the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. Committing the pulse to memory. "What is the usual color of the sky?"

She looked confused at the line of questioning. "Blue?" She stated, still smiling at him.

Her pulse remained. He met her eyes, squinting his own. "Are you married?"

"No"

Her pulse quickened. Cullen arched a brow. "What's your spouse's name?" He asked with a smirk.

"Cullen...something or other."

He tilted his head. "You think we're married."

"You seem to think so."

"Yes or no."

"No."

Her pulse returned to its normal rhythm. "Are you married?"

"No." He arched a brow again as her pulse quickened. "It's complicated."

"Like everything else about you." He took a breath. He looked her over. "Do you intend to bring harm or destruction to the Inquisition?"

"No."

Her pulse was steady. "Do you intend to harm anyone in this hold?" She tilted her head at him, her smirk and eyes trail up only on him. "Do you intend to harm the Inquisitor "

"No."

"Are you from Skyrim?"

"Aye."

"Who is your master?"

"A man is his own master."

Cullen rolled his eyes, feeling her pulse unwavering. "Who trained you?" She puffed her cheeks. He watched her eyes shift as if mentally making a list of people. He shook his head. "Have you ever engaged in blood magic?"

Her pulse quickened and he gripped her tighter and her expression turned into steeled conviction. "It's complicated."

"Explain." He seethed through his teeth.

She sneered. "Ask me if I ever used blood magic."

"What's the difference? You're tainted."

She clenched her jaw. "I've had to make some decisions I'm not proud of. But even though I was that beast for a time I never used it. I never hurt others in the way I was. I went, sick and starving, and was cured. I never used blood magic. I never feasted on it."

He looked into her eyes, the thin lines of her lips, and relented. She was telling the truth. You can't cure blood magic. "What do you mean, cure?"

"It's a disease, back home. To use the blood of others for your own health, power, immortality." She shook her head. "I was cured by a mage in Hjaalmarch."

He arched a brow. "Blood magic isn't a disease. It's a choice."

"I chose to become the monster knowing there was a cure. I'm not clean, I know that. But it doesn't affect me either. Being surrounded by is not the same as using. Does that answer your question?"

He looked at her. His mind filled with Kirkwall and the mages who surrendered. Surrounded, but not succumbing to demons. Some can be good. He swallowed hard. "How does your voice work?" She tilted her head at the question. "How do you make people succumb to your voice?"

"My voice is my truth. And my truth holds power." Cullen blinked slowly at her philosophy. "The power is derived from the dragon souls I consume."

"You steal power from dragons to make yourself unstoppable?"

"Not stolen." She stated with a fit of heated anger.

"Answer the question."

"Aye."

Cullen didn't know which was more frightening, the fact she admitted it, or the fact her pulse didn't change. He took a deep breath but tried not to show his fear on his face. "Will you destroy Thedas?"

"No."

There was some relief as she didn't lie. "Why did you come here?"

"Kyne." Cullen arched a brow at the answer. "The goddesses hawk and wind pushed me south when I was with King Alistair. I think she wanted me here. Why is still uncertain."

"You believe your gods brought you here?"

"Aye."

Unchanged pulse. Cullen took a breath as he asked the question that was bothering him earlier. "Are you a dragon?"

She smirked. "That's a question of perspective."

"Yes or no"

"That's a question of perspective."

"Yes or no" he growled

"No one can answer that." She stated, her blood pressure rising at the irritation.

He arched a brow. "You can."

"I can't. Because at this point" she shook her head slowly, looking away from him in shame. Cullen noticed the slight sneer on her lip as she looked away from him. She didn't know. It was a question she has had to ask herself. "So am I the monster you think I am?"

"Are you a monster?" He found himself asking. His tone allowing it to sound like it was an intentional question.

She was silent, breathing deeply. Her eyes searching the spaces of her life for the answer. "That depends."

"Yes or no."

She tilted her head with a sneer. "Is a lion a monster for living up to its nature? Or is man, for denying it? Is denying our darker urges a symbol of martyrdom, or suicide of the soul? Or is a monster simply identified by the scars upon its face or its unwillingness to die peacefully?" She gently pulled her hands away from him. "I can't answer that question until you answer mine."

Cullen let her go. Looking at her eyes, face, and body, he could tell these were questions she often asked herself. What makes a man and what makes a monster. Or are these the terms used by history books blessed with hindsight? He took a deep breath. Her tone indicating she was speaking to him. Of him. Of his possible future's that could have happened with the red Templars like he often did. He held his hands out for her to take again.

She watched him, her eyes shifting, searching his. He relinquished his anger to only show patience. She took another breath, tilting her head. Looking him over like she was ready for battle. Cullen clenched his jaw. "Do you feel like you're a good person?" He asked softly. "Do you honor your culture's warrior code?"

She arched a brow. "Does it matter? You don't know my culture. And it seems obvious you have no intention of knowing me."

He smirked. "I'm learning." He leaned back in his chair. Crossing his arms over his plate. "I'm willing." She scoffed. "I guess the question is, are you a human who thinks they're a dragon, or a dragon who thinks they're a human?"

She smirked. "Isn't that the question for all of us? Are we what we are, or what we pretend to be? Is it our reputation, or the intentions that make us who we are?"

Cullen blinked once. "Our intentions. Reputation is what is given to us by others. As who we are is based on our actions."

"You seem so sure of yourself, even as you tremble at your own answer." She looked away, crossing her arms.

"This I know." He stated calmly. Meredith's intentions were not noble. They were not knightly. Her actions followed suit with her intentions and lead to the destruction of his world. His brothers. His failure to act, to see, to listen, assisted in the destruction. "I tremble because I've seen it."

She looked him over and nodded once. "I imagine you have."

It was Cullen's turn to scoff. Her tone was off-handed as she spoke. "No, you don't. I've told you what I see in you. Please, besides some thin-skinned sow, what do you think of me? What does the mighty dragon slayer think of lowly me?"

She arched a brow. "You're arrogant."

He laughed at her. "Hello, kettle."

"You're no better than the other short-sighted Viligence I've met. You see Deadra in every shadow and become blinded by your fear. You look at mages, with your hand on your sword ready to strike when one so much as pulls healing magic. You show your disillusionment when you shun cultures or methods other than your own. You claim you would do anything for your men, but the fact is, you hide behind them. You blame them for their mistakes and not your orders. You claim you would kneel for them when they would expect you to rise. Your consistency with them moves like a banner in the wind. And yet, you clamor for better men. Stronger soldiers. But you speak sweet words. You want me to be protected, but give the greenest group. But most of all, you, like your armor is polished to a pretty shine, with heledry of military history, but lacks the efficiency for battle. Don't even get me started on your boots."

Cullen listened to her scathing words, with only a small sneer working his nose. He listened and watched. Watched as her eyes were wild as she spoke. Her hands held forcedly under her arms when she's usually animated. She took a deep breath when she was done. Breathing heavily at his request of her truth. He didn't even have to verify if it was true. She didn't know the history. She doesn't know his history. She didn't know him.

As much as he didn't know her.

But her blatant and consistent disregard for his authority was becoming annoying. "You overstep yourself, slayer." He growled. "Regardless of what you might think, I am still the Commander of the forces. And you are still nothing."

She paused, then laughed. Her laugh was dark, menacing, and her eyes shone with malice at him. "You asked. If you were afraid before, Commander, you have no idea. Do not mistake my patience for weakness. The beast sleeps, but it's not dead."

"You would be wise to heed your own warning."

"I've seen your kind. I've beaten your kind. You, and your ilk, are nothing to me." Her eyes dropped to the flaming sword on his vambrace then back in his eyes. "Perhaps you should try to change my mind."

Cullen fought back the shiver that ran down his spine. Her eyes were dead, soulless as she spoke. Cullen sucked his teeth as he looked at her. She speaks of armor but walks around like a black paladin. She hides behind philosophy to justify her actions to make them more palatable for herself as if it makes her better. "Well." He stated with a deep breath. "Now that we've had the airing of the grievances."

Uthreida looked at him with pursed lips and an expectation of him to speak. When he didn't, she scoffed. "What, no resolutions to offer?"

He shook his head at her terse tone. "I am the commander-"

"A lion who needs to tell the world he is a lion, is not a lion. For one has to but look at it to know." She jutted her chin. "I hold respect for the title in public. It is the man I hold the issue with. And the stupidity of wearing fur on the outside even though you live in the fucking mountains."

Cullen tilted his head at her. "Are you quite done making fun of my armor?"

"Don't get me started on your boots."

"Their practical."

"Practically useless." He looked away from her throat that he wanted to strangle. "You dress like a man who's never had to dress himself. Like everything has been issued to you. And now, you're incapable with your own freedom. Your 'practically' weakens your efficiency." He wasn't angered at the statement. He was angered at the accuracy. "Only assassins were that low of a sole to muffle their movements. And judging from the bastard sword that drags on the ground at your hip, you could care less about who hears you. Only that they follow orders when you roar. Hoping they look beyond the awkward mismatched movements and only see the shining armor, undented. Untested." She looked him over. "You wear the ceremony and armor of your order that you claim you are no longer a part of. You hold fast to their beliefs even as you turn away. You hold fast to that skirt."

Cullen clenched his jaw. She read him with calculating eyes and hit every mark. "You walk around Skyhold like some shadow. Wearing only black. Like you have every intention of finding some dark corner and disappearing when it's convenient for you. Like a thief or informant."

"Unlike someone I've yet to be paid so I can purchase more 'Theodisian' garb."

He chuckled. "Right. So you could blend in with your surroundings? The people. Hide once more?"

She arched a brow but breathed to check her resining. "This is the under garb of my armor." She waved a hand over herself. "I only brought two changes of linen because I wasn't expecting to live after Sovngarde. But at least this" she pulled the chest of her black gambeson "keeps me warm. Unlike whatever in Oblivion that is." Her hand flicked to the fur mantle around his shoulders.

Cullen shook his head. His nose sneering at her. But he chose to listen. "You only have two changes of clothes?"

"Oh, don't pretend to care now." She waved a hand over him. "It's undignified and disingenuous."

He poped his jaw at her. She was set in her anger and wasn't going to come out soon. He popped his neck and decided to change strategies because his next course of action was to make fun of her ridiculous hair. "You mentioned expectations? Marital respect, or something?"

She scoffed and crossed her arms. She bit her lip and shook her head at his quick change in topic. "I did. At one point."

He arched a brow. "Are we beyond that point?"

Her ice eyes looked him over. He watched as the anger slowly simmered down to annoyance as she breathed deeply. She looked away, jutting her jaw at the things she wanted to say but remained silent. She sucked her teeth at the aggravation of him, but tilted her head while meeting his eyes. She exhaled again. "No" she said. Licking her lips and waited.

Cullen leaned back in his chair, crossing a leg over his knee. "So, where to begin?"

"You tell me." She smiled wickedly at him. She had an idea but was willing to let him speak.

Cullen smirked. "You're the one that's married. What are your expectations?"

"I'm not" she sighed. She rolled her eyes in annoyance. "I'm not, or have I ever been, married."

"You seem to think you are."

"It's complicated." She said with a breath of exhaustion.

He chuffed. "What? Are you married to one of your gods then?"

"No."

"Demon then?"

She shot him an irritated look. She scooted her chair closer to him to reach into the drawer behind her to pull out the bottle of scotch he hid. "You are just so" she said to herself as she uncorked the bottle and lifted it to drink.

Cullen offered her his cup. She arched a brow, filled it, and drank from the bottle. She coughed, spilling some down her coat as she leaned forward. "You're supposed to sip." He stated softly as he leaned back in his chair.

She looked at him and sipped from the bottle. She gave an appreciative look at it as she read the label. "This is smooth." She said with a smile. "What is this?"

"Scotch."

She looked at the bottle again, then at him. She placed the bottle between her legs, waiting on him to start. Cullen sipped his cup, watching her. He placed the cup on his knee as he took a calming breath. "I assume these expectations come with the understanding that, if we are going to be in the same hold, we should at least try to be reasonable?"

"Well, I mean, if I'm going to work for you, there should be something."

Cullen pulled his head back. "I thought you were going to work for one of them?"

"Pfft. And await the dagger or political outmaneuver? Nah, you're weaker. A headache, but I'll take it."

"Makers breath." He exclaimed as he threw his head back. He looked at the ceiling, then at her. "You're doing this for the dragons, aren't you?"

She shrugged. "Aye."

Cullen shook his head at her. "I thought the intent was to build trade? Between Skyrim and Fereldan?"

"Aye" She stated as if it was the end of the conversation. Cullen waved a hand for her to elaborate. "I spoke to Josephine. She suggested that I remain under your charge. The reason being, that she would allow me to speak to the ambassadors of the other countries while I am here. Sway them. If they grow curious about my land, as you suggested, it would allow increased trade with Fereldan as the goods and coin will have to flow through Fereldan before and after they reach Skyrim." She looked away for a moment as if confused. "I said that right, right? That makes sense?"

Cullen smirked. "You're going to chokepoint trade with Skyrim through Fereldan so they receive the export tax from the other countries in the hope that their import tax will be lesser. Thusly, gaining a profit in taxes alone from the trade of goods."

She nodded, both awkwardly and confused. "Lady Josephine stated it simpler, but sure."

He gave an exhausted sigh. it made sense. in a way. But he had larger questions. He leaned forward, waving two fingers. "Wrist."

She complied easier than before. "Are you planning to use Theodisan dragons to elevate your power?"

She shrugged. "If it happens. It happens."

"Yes or no."

"Not the intent."

"So-" he let the question hang for her answer.

"No." Her pulse was normal.

"Do you intend to conquer Thedas after Corypheus?"

"No."

"Why do you need dragons?"

"I wouldn't say need-"

"What do they have that you want?" She looked away but puffed her cheeks as if she didn't think that far ahead. Cullen arched a brow, not buying it. "What do they have that you want?"

She looked him over. Her coy look disappearing as she looked into his eyes. A serious demeanor replaced her usual casual mask. "You, as you are now, wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

She scoffed. "Why? You already think me a monster. Why would I give you more ammunition when can't even comprehend my truth? What I want has nothing to do with you, your people, your Inquisition, or your King."

"What do you want then?"

She looked over him, her eyes judging to see if he was ready. "Understanding."

"Of"

Her eyes grew slightly larger, her breath deeper. Her smile, wider. It wasn't any one thing she was after. It was all of it. She wanted everything dragons had to offer. Cullen lowered his brows. His earlier question returning. "Are you a dragon?"

She smirked. "Some say that." She said softly.

"What do others say?"

"Not that." She said playfully with a grin.

"Who do you believe?"

Her eyes searched his. Still wondering if she could trust him. Her slowness to decide and the smirk made him afraid of her answer. "What are you doing?" She asked, looking at their conjoined hands.

"Reading your pulse?"

"Why?"

Cullen took a breath realizing that was all he was going to get but slightly satisfied with her answers. "People are naturally afraid to lie. When they do, their hearts beat faster."

She looked at their hands. "I'm sure there's something poetic about feeling my heart in my hands."

"Oh, I'm sure." He leaned back in his chair. "So. With no intent to destroy us, you want to slay dragons and read at your leisure?"

"If I can." She said, pulling her hand off his knee and taking her usual relaxed seat.

"And you're alright about moving with an element of the army to your destination and return trip. Provided they don't engage with the dragon that you are ordered to eliminate."

"Correct." She nodded. "I would also like to add the additional line that my contract is severed upon the death of this... Corypheus or his dragon."

He arched a brow. "Or?"

"Well, if the master is dead, the dragon is free?"

"Provided that's how it works." He stated cynically. She gave a shrug in admittance. "How about, until the dragon is no longer a threat?"

"That should do."

"Right." He nodded, looked over her, and took a sip of his drink. Dreading the next question. "So, about the mutual respect."

"Aye."

He eyed her from his lowered face. "I've spoken to Mother Giselle. She's the older woman with the..big...hat."

She laughed softly. "Aye, we've met. Don't think she's taken with me."

"Well" he tilted his head. Letting the 'you're a pagan' go unsaid. He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. "I've spoken to her about our...arrangement." Uthreida arched a brow at his phrasing. "Because the Chantry didn't officiate the marriage, she can't annul it. Nor would she. So, we have a choice. We tend to look at the situation as a joke, and thusly so do the others. Her suggestion was that we either openly proclaim that we are not married. Or" he took a deep breath. "We continue. Fake Chaste marriage and all." He cleared his throat, not looking at her. "And honestly, I don't know where I stand on it."

"Wrist" she demanded.

Cullen chuckled from his chest. "You have to be trained."

"I'll figure it out."

"I don't doubt that." He took another sip and placed his cup on the desk realizing it was going to his head. "So-"

"If it's a joke, and neither of us believes it, why live a lie?"

Cullen clenched his jaw. "There are Avvar in the camps that would see you return to them. So long as they think you are my wife, they cannot take you." She arched a brow. "Against your will." She canted her head. Still confused. "They literally take wives."

"Oh." She looked distasteful at the situation. "I'll be fine." She waved an indifferent hand at the situation.

"Yes" Cullen rubbed his neck in stress. "But that's not the point." She smirked at him, her smile forcefully small but comical at her waiving brows. Not that point either. Even as she teased, he was still smiling with her. He ran a hand across his face. "Makers breath. Look, the threat is imaginary, but" he looked her over, his eyes drinking in her small form before him. What she represented to them was frightening. "They live in the mountains, as do we. They know this terrain better than we do. They know-"

"You're aware I'm from the land of mountains and skies?"

"Be that as it may, I don't feel comfortable running that risk. And while I'm sure you could kill them all" he rubbed his neck again, "what they think you can, what you could bring" he shook his head. "Your head doesn't need to be any bigger."

She laughed at the comment. "So, for my safety, you want me to be tied to you? To protect your ego?"

Why does this always have to be about knots? He took a deep breath. "Yes. But only for their benefit. The Avvar are small, but one story could entice another and another then next thing we know, we could have a barbarian horde at our door with-" the Sunless Lands. And an entire area to the south that was unmapped and full of the Alamari peoples. When was the last time that place was mapped? Or even censuses? His thoughts of distant clans on their door bearing no more than maybe two thousand just grew to the size of a country.

"Commander?"

Cullen looked up to see her looking slightly concerned that he didn't finish his sentence. "I would prefer you" he swallowed back the bile, "stay as my wife. At least until King Alistair can get you home. Umm" he took a breath that he didn't know he was holding. The heat of the proposal making his stomach warm at the impending thought of her rejection. He felt himself become embarrassed at the accord even as he had gotten this far fine. "I -I-uhh-that-that is - I'm not expecting-uh" he sighed, hiding his eyes behind a hand as he rested his arm on the chair. He took a cooling breath. "Just" he waved a hand between the two of them "in public." He moved his hand to cover his mouth as he looked at her.

She tried so hard to keep a straight face. But she was forcefully holding back her laughter making her face red from not allowing herself to breathe. She finally leaned forward, her shoulders jumping from the silent laughter.

Cullen bit his lips at the awkward situation he had created, feeling the heat rise on his neck.

"I'm sorry." She said between her laughter. "I'm so sorry." His stomach burned at the feel of her laughter at him. She took a calming breath, sat up and looked at him, and laughed again. Hiding her face from him.

He scowled, pretty sure he was turning as vibrant red as her hair.

She tried again, still smiling at him. "So" she chuckled quietly. Cullen rolled his shoulders at the awkwardness of her. "What do I get out of this?"

He looked her over for a second. Safety. She gets safety and freedom. "What do you want?"

"What have you got?" Cullen tilted his head at her. He just said. She smiled wickedly. She leaned back, resting her temple on her fist sitting upon his desk. Her eyes were lit with a tease. "Because I find myself in a position to say no." She said lower, making fun of him.

Cullen threw his head back in his chair. "Maker" he begged through his own laughter. He deserves that. Using his own words against him. Alright. He sat up, clearing his throat. He popped his jaw, letting her know it was a decent punch to his ego. "What do I have? Uh, nothing. I have nothing to offer. Other than your safety and protection. Nothing."

She looked playfully at him as he was hiding something. "What of my dowry?"

Cullen blew out his cheeks. "I get a monthly stipend of 10 royals a month. Why? How much is it?"

"345,000 septum's" Cullen dropped his jaw. "Divided by, whatever the exchange is for your royals."

150,000 royals. Cullen felt his brows go up. "We need to talk about your hubris."

She laughed at him. "What about land. How much land do you have? Homes? Investments?"

"I have...no...holdings." he started awkwardly.

It was her turn to drop her jaw at him in shame. "Ha? Maras mercy, you're coming out of this better than how you went in. For what? You better be good in the straw sack."

Cullen cleared his throat again. Not that he would know. It's been a...very long time. He rubbed his nose at her and she only looked more disappointed. "Why would I give you two of my three homes, half of my acreage, attached to a lake, my gold, and investments when you have nothing to give me?"

Cullen arched a brow. "Well, to be fair, your holdings are in a completely different land where no one knows where they are. So here, in Thedas," he smiled at the thought that crossed his mind. "You have nothing to offer as well." She pointed a finger to argue but bit it back. "You haven't even been paid yet."

"That is your fault" she stated empathically, she poked his thigh to prove a point, knowing she was losing.

He only smiled. He shifted in his chair more confidently. "About your dowry, my 10 royals must be looking decent by now?"

She scowled but was fighting back the smile on her lips. "Test of deed." She said slamming her hand on the arms of the chair. "I choose test of deed." She moved the bottle from between her thighs to the desk as she scooted closer, but Cullen leaned back, a smirk firmly placed on his face. "You must slay a dragon with me."

He arched a brow, resting his head on a hand. "Test of deeds is already been done as I won the contest for your hand."

"That was a fucking" she waved her fists in the air at his arrogance and her frustration. "Fuck"

Cullen laughed as she threw herself back into her chair, her arms across over her chest and glowering at him. "So" She replied with a growl. He chuckled. "You are allowed to say no. But at least with me, you don't have to worry about being kidnapped here or in the field. I leave the choice to you."

"To me?"

"Yes. It is your life. And like I said, it would be in name only and-"

"What is your name?" She asked randomly.

"Beg your pardon?"

"What's your name? I address you as Commander Cullen, but in my head, it's always 'that arsehole.'"

He grinned. "Well, I'm glad to see honesty isn't going to be an issue for us." She pouted. "Cullen Stanton Rutherford."

She pulled her face down in disgust. "And people think Uthreida a mouthful."

"It's a weird mouthful."

She frowned. "Rutherford." She said as if tasting it for the first time. She licked her tongue like she didn't like it. She fisted her hands in agony. "There's no cadence to it. Rutherford" she said lower, hating it more.

"Well, that accent butchers it, so. I'm sure the three rs make it difficult for you."

She said his name again, her tongue still purring on the consents. Still looking dissatisfied. She looked him over, her brows lowered as if he asked her to eat all the Orleisan delicacies. She growled again. "Your name is Storm-Blade now."

Cullen chuckled only to realize what she said. Did she just agree? He looked at her with a serious face even as she tried his name again, and spat out her tongue in disgust. When she finished making fun of his name, she looked at him. He watched the playfulness, give way to concern, then knowing. She met him with her chin raised. "Storm-Blade?"

"Aye, it's my skaldic name."

"Which is?"

"A title bequeathed to those who undertake a great...something worthy of their own name and family." Cullen felt his brows lower in confusion. You can't just change your name like that. She smiled. "Before the Oblivion crisis, by family's name was Isodotter. My ancestor married, and become the Stronghelms because of her courage on the battlefields. When I sacked Solitude. King Ulfric gave me the name Storm-Blade. And now it is yours. Until I leave. So you can't have access to my lands."

Cullen leaned forward and sipped his scotch. "Cullen Stanton Storm-Blade." He said as if to try it on for size.

"Just Cullen Storm-Blade. Your name is all kinds of" she laughed, throwing her head back.

He arched a brow at her teasing. "As you say, Uthreida Rutherford."

She scoffed. "Oh, aye. Nothing strikes fear in the enemies like Uthreida Ruth, Rother- you know what, I'm not even going to dignify that." She chuckled. "I can't wait to see your first correspondence with that on there. Some Officer is going to read it and going, 'who in the damn Oblivion?" She gave a mocking show of what to expect when she started laughing.

Cullen found himself smiling at the idea. But his mind was still reeling at being married. He had no idea what that meant or even how or...how. He shoved his anxiety aside. "So, uhm, as someone who's been married-"

She sighed. "I'm not married." She said with exhaust, then rolled her eyes. "Well" then smirked.

He quirked a brow. "But you said it was complicated."

"I also said I've never been married but you're just hearing what you want to."

"I just wanted to make sure-"

"Commander." She warned deeply in her chest. He noticed her clenched fists and her averted eyes. He leaned back and watched her swallow hard. She clenched her jaw a few times. "He died." She said softly. He watched as she touched her chest. Too high for her heart. A necklace. His necklace, if Cullen had to guess. "A few years ago." She kept her gaze adverted as she reached for the bottle and sipped. He felt his heart skip at the information. "I'm sure your...other won't be too happy to meet me either."

Cullen leaned forward on his knees, lowering his voice to match hers. "I, Uh, I don't have a, um, other."

Her vacant expression looked him over for a lie. She then looked to the ceiling with a depreciating smirk. "Oh, how the wolf loves to smile and bite." She chuckled and shook her head. She bit her lip as she leaned back.

Cullen lowered his eyes. "I won't bring it up again."

She scoffed. "I guess I can look forward to that becoming a lie. But what was your question?"

Cullen looked at her. The playfulness that was there a moment ago disappeared completely as she looked at him. He leaned back, crossing one leg over his knee. How does he ask this without sounding inept or sheltered or bringing up former lovers? "With our cultures being as different as they are" he found himself stumbling through, "what are your expectations of me as your...husband?" that feels weird.

She smiled as if she could read his thoughts from his face. She looked at the ceiling again, expecting to see something that annoyed her. "Mara teaches that love begets love. And that the union of two souls is what brings compassion, kindness, and empathy to our fellow man, and those we are oathed to. For only through love, do we begin to understand the ascendency of our gods. As far as expectations" she breathed and looked him over, then shook her head. "Please remember, this is a farce to me."

He scoffed. "Me too."

"This" she waved between them, "is not in alliance with my gods." She breathed again. "It is universally expected that there will be an honor, honesty, trust, compassion, and fidelity in marriage. Given our situation, I believe the last is optional." She scoffed to herself as she looked away from him. Her body bending slightly as if she was uncomfortable with the conversation.

Cullen clenched his jaw. She was right. The things she had listed, he had seen in his parents' marriage. Though there were few fights, they often reconciled through the light and love of the Maker. He chuckled as he thought of her words. "I'm starting to think we're not so different."

"Careful, you almost sound like a heretic." She stated deadpanned but not looking at him.

He leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. "If I may expound, communication, faith,"

"Whose?"

He paused then smiled. "I guess it doesn't matter. Considering. But honor and respect are the two major tenets that will be the most difficult bridges for us to cross."

"Agreed."

"Unfortunately, that bridge is made of trust." He cleared his throat. "And, um, to be honest...I... don't."

"Nor do I."

He nodded. "Well, alright."

They both sat in mutual silence, each weighing the history with the other. Each verbal slap and physical restraint they had placed on the other.

She sighed first. "I have an idea."

"Am I going to like it?"

"Probably not." She tilted her head in honesty. "I tried it once, you shot it down. Shall we try again?" He arched a confused brow. She looked away. "Would you say that I am an honorable warrior?"

He pulled back. "In what respect?"

She shot him an annoyed look but reigned in her offense. "In general."

He took a deep breath and remembered her fighting skills. "Not out loud."

She rolled her eyes. "Commander Cullen is a fine warrior. Brave and tenacious no matter the odds. There is a reason why he is in command. His capability to overlook the battlefield allows for safety and calculated results for his men and civilians in the field. The only thing that can match his prowess in battle is his passionate hope of the future of the Inquisition and all of Thedas." Cullen's eyes went wide at her bland statement. How much of that was a lie. "Just because I can't stand you doesn't mean I don't know how to respect you. Just because I want to bend your Will into submission every time I see you, doesn't mean I can't see the noble qualities. There are reasons why you would be a worthy sacrifice to my gods. A worthy opponent. Not because you are my opposite or the thing I fear most. But because we both are betrayed by our own lies."

Cullen was unsure of how to take that. "Wrist?"

"Only if you wish for honest tinvaak."

He took a deep breath. "What's that?" She arched a brow. "Tin whatever."

She smirked. "It is the thing you cannot understand as you are."

"But you'll tell me?"

"When you're ready."

"Who decides?"

She lowered her brow in thought as she searched his eyes. Then smirked. "You. You will know."

"Tell me."

She chuckled. "No. Not now. If you want my wrist, you will admit, in honest truth, as I have."

He looked her over. "Like how you did."

"I'm sure my ego will survive a small step of admittance." Her tone edged annoyance as she blinked slowly at him. She was apparently willing to take any step in the right direction at this point.

He took a deep breath, his eyes taking in her small sitting form with her legs crossed at the knees, relaxed before him. Waiting with growing impatience. He grunted internally. He thought of their first fight in Royocs quarters, her battling the Dragon in the frost backs, her concern for the men in the Mire, the dragon, and her resolve to find peace with the Avvar in their hold. Her patience during her maleficar trial and findings to him and Royoc. "I will admit that you hold some honor...as a warrior."

She blinked slowly at him in disappointment. "Do you want to try again?"

Cullen swallowed. Not in fear of her, but of facing his own created lies. He thought her undisciplined, only to learn her methods of honor were different than his own. He thought her valorous when she was showing courage. He thought her greedy when she was upholding her fidelity. He thought her a spy when she is loyal to her people. And now, he thinks her tyrannical, when she is showing mercy for not forcing his submission. But in all of this, does she have honesty? Or is that still to be tested. He looked at her and took a shaky breath. He held his hand out for her wrist.

She arched a brow but allowed it. He placed his fingers over her pulse again. "Have you ever lied to me?"

She looked at him with tired eyes and smirked. "No."

Her pulse didn't waive. "Have you ever lied to the Inquisition?"

"No."

Her pulse was steady. He searched her eyes, knowing his next question was more of a reflection on himself than of their situation. But he wanted to know. "Are you willing to commit to me, to honor and respect me, as a wife?" He clenched his jaw. He wanted to hide from her like a child but needed to look at her to spot the lie.

She took two, long deep breaths. Her eyes never leaving his as she asked herself the same question. "Aye."

Cullen kept his fingers on her wrist. Her pulse didn't elevate. Maker. She...shit. She's not lying. She never lied. He looked at her again. Her look didn't change but held the soft pity as he should know what was to come next. She warned him, but he did it anyway. He slowly removed himself from her. He pulled himself smaller, away from her. He clenched his jaw, knowing what he did, and was willing to pay the price.

"I won't ask invasive questions." She said softly as if it helped him as his heart was beating faster in his chest. Just like Kinloch. Watching the demons take over and using his friends like puppets. He invited this. "Only questions as they pertain to this specific situation." He took a ragged breath. This is dangerous. Is it too late to back out? "When you're ready." Cullen adverted his eyes and looked away. This is wrong. And he invited this. He nodded. Even as he could barely breathe.

"Tinvaak vahzen" she said softly. Cullen felt his shoulder tense at her foreign words. So it begins. He didn't look at her, only his fisted hands on his thighs. "Are you willing to honor, respect, commune, and be as honest, to the best of your capabilities to me, as my husband?"

No, he thought but felt his throat tighten around his tongue. "Yes," Cullen stated quickly through clenched teeth. He could feel the goosebumps crawling on his skin as she sat quietly, allowing himself to shiver at the cold of mountain breezes as they filtered into his office.

"Have you ever lied to me?"

No. His heart squeezing in his chest. He thought he was going to die. Stop lying, he told himself. "Yes" he spat. Feeling bile in his throat and forcing himself to swallow it back down.

"Would it be honorable to die at my blade?"

"Only if I take you out with me." He stated with clenched teeth, hating her for doing this to him. For allowing her to do this. His whole body was both rigid and shivering at the command of her voice even as she spoke softly to him.

"Would you say that I" she paused, forcing him to tense his shoulders more "am worthy of the title of a warrior?"

"Yes." He didn't fight the lie this time. He didn't fight the spell.

"You are free."

He allowed himself to lean forward, his hands grabbing at his knees as he forced himself to breathe. He forced air into his lungs and pushed the bile back. His eyes widened as he looked at his feet and his shaking hands. His whole body shivering at the power of her. He tried to lie to see if he could and every time, she forced the truth like it was ripped from his throat. He felt like the demons were pressing on his mind again. The clawing, scraping tempting whispers begging him to join them. To live. Free.

His hands shook as he held his head up with one hand. "Maker, forgive me." He stated with ragged breath. "Dragons with wicked eyes and wicked hearts,

On blacken'd wings does deceit take flight,

The first of My children, lost to night"

He took a breath, not knowing why he chose that line of the chant. He looked at her. The anger overriding his fear as he snarled.

"Kaan drem ov."

Cullen was forced to take a deep breath. He felt his whole body relax at her command. The feelings of fear, anxiety, anger, washed from him. His blood was no longer pumping in his ears as he felt his heart slow to its natural rhythm. He closed his eyes, feeling the back of the chair against the plate. His lungs filling with oxygen. His shoulders slumped, relaxed. The tense muscles across his body relaxed as he slumped. He slowly opened his eyes to look at her.

She hinted that she could control him, force him to speak, answer, and now, could force him to relax. He lowered his brows, uncertain of it was a blessing or a curse for her to have that power. "What was that?"

"Kyne's peace. It halts aggression in others."

He forced his chair to loudly scoot across the floor, pushing away from her as he took her in. She didn't move. Still sitting, relaxed in the chair before him. Not moving to harm him. Not moving to silence him. She didn't have to. She could make an army surrender in a few words. She could order him to cut out his own tongue. And no one will believe him because she's not a blood mage.

Cullen clenched his jaw as he looked at her. She could decimate armies. She could do so much-

"Don't."

Cullen looked at her to see her sitting calmly, but her hands were white-knuckled as she sat there. Her breathing was shallow as she watched him. "What do you mean-"

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

She lifted her chin, looking more like a queen at that moment than a warrior. "As I told the Inquisitor, I cannot do this."

"Do what?"

"I cannot be what you are thinking. This is not my land. I've seen that look before, Commander. As I have suffered its wrath before. And you are thinking no better than the Avvar you are pretending to protect me from." She exhaled and he could've sworn he saw smoke come from her nose but knew it was only her breath. "You are no better than the others."

He scoffed. How dare she. "You could end this."

"No, I can't. You must do this on your own"

He snarled at her. "You could."

She scoffed. "How? Usurp your Inquisitor? The leader you named? Break the will of those loyal to him to follow me? They will see me as a tyrant. A slave master. With the Commander as my faithful pet." She shook her head slowly. "That is not who I want to be. I will not become that monster to save you the discomfort of life."

"This is war."

"This is life. So long as the arena stands, we must fight for ourselves and for each other."

"Your gods brought you here to save us."

"You should not put too much trust in your gods, Commander. They only favor those who have the Will to Survive."

He shook his head. "You could end this."

She looked at him with pain and pity in her eyes. "I could break you. A new regime of dragon priests. A new world order that would make Tamriel quake. No." She shook her head softly. "Are you planning to coup on the Inquisitor, Commander?" She looked at a door, her slow eyes returning back to him.

Cullen swallowed hard. He spoke loudly, where she was being soft. They wouldn't hear what she said, but they would hear him. If the agents get back to Liliana, she would inform Royoc, and he would have him kicked out. Telling him to recover from the lyrium. He looked at her, fear rising again. Worse, he couldn't tell anyone of her powers because of the same reason.

He felt his nose twitch in irritation. He was trapped.

She exhaled, leaning forward towards him. "I am here to help, not save." He slowly shook his head at her and she sighed. "In hindsight, this was a dumb idea. I shouldn't have trusted you with this." She tilted her head. "Well," she said in thought. She looked at him and smirked. She scooted her chair closer and he pushed his away. She cocked her head in annoyance. "Stop running or I will sit on you," Cullen grunted at her ultimatum. She scooted her chair again to sit at his side with their chairs still being opposite. "May I have your hand please?"

Cullen crossed his arms to prevent her from touching him. Uthreida smirked. "I'd like to point out that since you can resist" she let the sentence hang with her nose scrunched to show he was free from control.

Cullen grunted. "Why,"

"I would like to build trust between us. I am now trusting you to keep this secret, and not use me as a weapon as my own king did. But you need to trust me as well." She canted her head to look into his eyes. "I can tell you don't. And that's fine. But you need to trust that I can help you, even if you're angered at the fact that I won't end this for you." She swallowed as she looked at his chest. "I want to help the Inquisition, but I won't take it. Not for you. Not for them. Not for me. This, you have to do. Everything you have done so far, everything you have endured so far would be cheapened if I take it from you. Do you understand?" He arched a brow. "Your people must rise, in your own land, in your own way. So" she held her right hand out for him to take. "I know you want to kill me now, but let me assure you," she paused, looking at him expectantly. Her eyes shifted to her open hand for him to take. Cullen waited, but she didn't speak. Whatever she wanted to say, he had to yield to hear. He pursed his lips and took her hand. She adjusted so their thumbs locked. She took the back of his hand and held it to her chest. "Cullen Storm-Blade," he rolled his eyes and she tapped him on the chin with her free hand. "I swear not to bring harm to you or your Inquisition until our common enemy is dealt with. It is only during peace will our blades cross to bring honorable death worthy of our ancestors."

She moved, holding the back of her hand to his chest. She raised her brows, wanting him to repeat the oath.

He looked confused at her. "What is all this about?"

She sighed, annoyed that she has to explain her culture to him. "Know that I will not move to harm you or the Inquisition until Corypheus is dead. When he is dead, our truce" she looked at their interlocked hands "will be severed. And upon that time. We will kill one another in honorable battle."

"Why?"

"Think about it." Her eyes shone as she looked at him. "Walking into Sovngarde, my ancestors raising their horns of mead to me as I enter the Halls of Valor for the last time. 'Ah, Uthreida, what finally did you in?' Cullen fucking Storm-Blade." He arched an annoyed brow at her continued refusal of his name. "I'm not saying it again." She stated looking at his expression but returned back to the hopeful imagination of her afterlife. "That Fereldan had me on the rope and finally got me in the gut. May that honorable arse find peace and salvation." Her voice growling but smiling. She made a sound of victory, fisting her free hand in acceptance of her fate. She looked at him with a grin. "And when your ancestors ask you how you died, what will you tell them?"

He smirked. "I was planning-" he stopped, his smile fading. He was planning on telling them that the lyrium withdrawal took his mind and he wandered off a cliff or cut his own throat. But she didn't need to know that. She didn't need to know all his weaknesses. He took a breath and smirked. "I guess I should tell them, dragon slayer Uthreida Rutherford killed me, with a hidden knife to the kidney as I shoved my sword through her stomach."

She pursed her lips at his story, offended by the underhanded tactics. But she shrugged. "See, it's a good story. Now" she took their conjoined hands and placed it over his heart.

Cullen opened his mouth to argue, loudly, but chose a different route of logic. "We just agreed we're married. Doesn't this go against that?"

"We also agreed that we don't trust each other. So, trust that I won't do anything to you until Corypheus, or his dragon, is defeated." She smirked. "Will you offer me the same truce?"

He chewed her words for a moment. "How do I know you'll keep your word?"

"How do I know you will? I know you're honorable and you admitted that you think I am as well."

"Under duress."

"False duress." She stated with a knowing smirk letting him know he was being too dramatic.

Cullen grunted, knowing she was right. He looked her over. Reflected on their conversations, and shook his head at her. "Uthreida Rutherford," she soured at the name, and he smirked, popping her chin with his free hand. She smiled at the action, squinting her eyes at his contact. "I promise to keep your secret and life until Corypheus is-"

"Or his dragon"

He shot her an annoyed look. "Or his dragon is no longer our common enemy. Upon such a time, our blades will...cross?" He asked, looking for the right word. She nodded. "And I will bring you an honorable death worthy of your ancestors."

She nodded, taking his hand back to her chest. "So it shall be." She stated softly.

She pushed their hands until hers was on his heart. "So it shall be."

"There, see," she said with a smile releasing his hand. "That wasn't so bad." Her smile slowly faded as she read his face. The look of playfulness and warrior pride slowly gave way to worry. She looked away from him, leaning forward resting her arms on her legs. "Please don't make me regret this." She whispered softly, her voice full of pain past betrayals.

Cullen felt the dagger of the request in his heart. She had been used as he had. He looked away from her. He cleared his throat, crossing his arms. Feeling the same worry she was presenting. "I'd like to request the same." He whispered back.

They shared a short, intimate moment, each wearing the pain of the past on their faces. Searching, hoping, and praying they didn't just make the biggest mistake of their lives. Cullen looked away first. His wounds were still raw. He didn't want her to see them. And a woman like her, he was afraid to see her wounds.

She reached behind her for the bottle, now out of reach. She leaned back in the chair. Cullen noticed her wobble and only had the time to move his hands to stop her when she lost her balance and fell to the floor. A loud crash followed by her laughing at herself filled the room. Cullen found himself laughing quietly with her.

The three doors opened quickly from the agents to check on the situation. The three of them looked at Cullen as he was hiding his smile from them. Uthreida picked herself up from the floor, grabbed the bottle, and lifted it to them. "Scotch? It's scotch, right? I'm celebrating."

They looked back at Cullen. He quickly removed his smile and stood behind her. He waved them back out. The agents only looked at one another with a curious and worried look at him. Cullen arched an intimidating brow at them, tucking his chin to his chest. The three slowly retook their positions in the room. Cullen realized that whatever allowed them some reprieve was gone now. Uthreida uncorked the bottle, filled his cup, and drank from the bottle again. Note to self, get a second cup in the office.

He shook his head at her and noticed the wooden box next to the bookshelf. "Oh," he stated quickly. Uthreida looked him over. "I forgot. The Avvar sent a package for you. And Knight-Captain Rylen also sent a present for you?"

She squinted her eyes at the name but beamed. "Where is it?"

"It's over there." He vaguely gestures to the box. She put the bottle back on the desk and walked to it. Cullen arranged his office the way it was, an additional chair included when he heard her inhale.

"Snowbear." She said excitedly.

Cullen lowered a brow at the name. "Snowbear?"

He looked over to see her pulling the hide from the box and hefting it over her shoulders like a thick blanket. "Aye." She said smiling ear to ear. "They are the cutest and most deadly creatures. Back home, they are prize pets for Kings and Jarls."

Cullen rose his brows in surprise, feeling his jaw slacked. "Pets?"

"Aye." She said, the fur dragging on the ground behind her as she wrapped the arms over her own and still had room to grow into. The enormity of the hide making him question her people's sanity. "This is a beauty."

Cullen was still in shock at the word 'pets.' "Your people tame Sunless bears?"

She cocked her head at his phrase. "Snowbear?" She corrected. It was his turn to be confused. "Because they live in the snow." He smirked at her reasoning. "Look, we're not very imaginative. Sunless bear." She scoffed. "Like it's never seen the sun."

Cullen placed one hand on his hip. "The Sunless lands, to the south, where those bears live."

She gave a dramatic nod in understanding. "That makes sense." She chuckled to herself. "Should take this off before I become a werebear. Last thing I need in my life." She said with added stress.

Cullen looked at her like she grew a second head. "Were what?"

"Werebear." She said over her shoulder, folding it back up. "You know, the curse of Hircine." When Cullen didn't respond out of physical confusion, she looked at him with her own confusion. "You're Fereldan. Werewolf, aye? But bears." She stated lower, more comically.

He could only blink slowly at her logic. He shook his head. "Sure" he ran a hand over his face, "why not."

She stored the furs back in the box, gave an appreciative look at the bottle from Rylen, and left it all there. "Are you ready?" She asked him. Cullen tilted his head in confusion. "To speak to Lady Josephine." He still wasn't following. "To update the contract? I want you present to make sure I'm not forgetting anything that we discussed."

"Uh" he rubbed his neck. "Yes, um. Yes."

An aggravated voice caught their attention. "Commander Cull-"everyone in the room turned to see Knight-Captain Rylen take two steps into the room but stopped misstep when he saw Uthreida.

"You" she growled, pointing a finger at him.

"I'll come back later." He said, turning on his heel.

"Are you responsible for this?" She yelled at him and Cullen moved to hold her back. Rylen looked over his shoulder at her. "For the bottle." She clarified in her normal tone, jutting a thumb at the box.

Cullen watched his shoulders relax as he turned to face her again. "I told you I would."

"Thank you." She said with a smile.

He gave a curt bow of his head. Rylen's attention turned to Cullen. "These idiots prevented me from speaking to you. You're ten minutes late to the meeting."

Cullen jumped at the jumbled schedule. His weekly operations meeting was today and he spent the day thinking about Uthreida instead of compiling notes from his logistics meeting earlier that day. He looked at his desk, mumbling about notes. He found his notebook and picked it up quickly. He moved to follow Rylen. He snapped and turned to Uthreida. He looked at her as she smiled at his discombobulation. "Later. Uh, after. Alright. You three" he pointed to the agents. "Don't let her touch anything." And turned swiftly following Rylen who was quick to bite his ear off about missing the meeting as getting the Captains in one location at a specific time was work enough.

As they walked the ramparts, his mind kept filling back to his office.

He's married.

Officially.

To one of, if not, the most dangerous person in Thedas.

His wife now a sworn enemy that awaits him after this war.

Maker's breath.