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.

7. Chapter 7

Uthreida's sweat dripped down her face and chest in the mid-morning heat at the forge. She removed her usual gambeson for the thin undershirt that Cassandra had gotten for her. It was an odd thing, to be called to Lady Josephine's office with a medium-sized trunk with the Ambassador, Liliana, Cassandra, and Lady Vivienne looking either excited or amused at the situation. Apparently, Commander Cullen informed the women that she didn't have any clothes. And in their, what she assumed excitement, they banded together to see her outfitted. They gave what they could and pooled their money to get her more underclothes and socks. Her usual black outfit had been replaced with more vibrant colors, thanks to Josephine, better leathers thanks to Liliana, more practical working clothes thanks to Cassandra, and two decent shirts for meeting nobles from Vivienne. Cassandra's undershirt, Josephine's deep purple leggings, the forges leather apron, and her usual boots were all she was wearing as she worked the forge.

She watched, turning the coals in the forge as the iron bar turn a bright red. The goal was to help Harriet while she mulled over everything she had read for the last few days. Letting the energy-draining, mind-numbing work allowed her to think. She heard the other smiths around her work the forges, billows, and anvils. One was making shoes for the horses for Dennett, one was making other metal crafts as needed for the field soldiers, herself and another female were making armor and weapons. After Harriet found out she could work a forge and discovered her method of ingots, he allowed her to work. Her weapons, while more Nordic and less adorned than some of the other weapons they were making, would allow some variety. Though, she suspected it was to be sold.

She pushed that out of her mind as she inhaled the scent of the fire, and allowed herself to think of the coals and the history of the mage circles that she had been reading over.

She had recently learned of what Thedas considers what Tranquility was. She soon feared it when she met one face to face. She was afraid to speak to it. For all intents and purposes, this...person was dead. This thing that stood before her wasn't even alive. To feel is to live. To have emotions stripped away like that, to be burned and scarred by the hands of those who are supposed to protect you, it made her think of ...well, Tamriel had no punishment like it. Looking at them made her think of a soul snare. She wondered if that's how it was completed. Were these people somehow left alive after their souls had been removed? And if the Vigilant if Stendaar were to find out how to do it. She furrowed her brows in a mild panic. Nords already feared magic. If the Maker came to Tamriel, they would look to the Templars with wide arms. The College would quickly become a Circle.

She found herself hating the Templars, and by extension, the Vigilants for what they have done, will do, to people. Nords may not approve of magic, but they can't stop it. Once she learned of this cowardice, she started to understand the Mage/Templar plight with a clearer focus. She didn't know which was worse, kidnapping children and using fear as control, or the systemic fear and hatred brought on by the false religion.

The steel bar turned red, showing signs and flecks of gold as she pulled it from the fire. She worked quickly, pounding out the slag and forcing the metal to take shape. She matched the pounding of the hammer to her heart.

When she first met King Alistair, he embraced her as a dragon hunter but was afraid of her as a mage. This land drew quick black and white lines as to what constituted as a mage. And according to Dorian, she fell in that spectrum. Having the capability meant she could. But even here, she felt her magic weaker. Chained. Blocked by some force. Why? Everyone in her land had the capability, why was it different here? Why was it harder to pull the Magicka from the Aetherius here?

The bar started to fade in color and she placed it back into the forge.

She stepped away, taking a sip of brandy from her drinking skin. The taste was mellow in a way she didn't expect when she first tried it. She took a second drink and went back to move the bar in the forge.

Further, the people of this land, according to their texts, had never heard of the Deadra. Not a single mention of their true names. The Divines may have different names across the races, but the Deadra remained the same. She found it odd that this place had fewer, if more powerful mages that had never crossed the realms. Of course, knowing what little she did of Corypheus, maybe it was for the best. Though, their lack of understanding of the larger realms was disturbing.

They feared the "demons" of the "fade" that seems to be plaguing the lands as it did during the Oblivion Crisis but didn't question why the lord of the "fade" would allow this. She heard the others speak of the Breach, but few openly spoke about it. She assumed that they were trying to force it from their minds as much as possible.

Mostly, she was confused why these people were content to never travel. To learn of the world. It's like Thedas tried three times, and gave up. We're they not curious about the world? Like they were content to live with only one eye open. But perhaps that focus allowed them to focus on their hate. Their fear of magic. If this Maker was Magnus as she postulated, the god of magic and science, then at what point did they learn to fear magic?

The bar turned red again and she pulled it from the forge. Slamming the hammer to the hot metal, watching the slag and impurities fly off as she hit it. Moving it, twisting it, molding the shape she wanted.

One thing has become bluntly clear. War will come to her people. These Theodians will bring war to Tamerial the moment they can. Though she desired peace, war is quickly becoming inevitable. If war was to come, it would be after Corypheus. And it would have to be after Skyrim rebuilt. After Cyrodiil had a proper ruler. After the Thalmor.

She placed the bar back into the forge, pulling the leveler for the bellows to heat the coals. Her eyes took in the orange, reds, and black. Fire and war. That's all this ever was. All this was ever doomed to be. If it was a war she waited on, she would need to know her enemy. She would need to know its people. She would need to learn this Chant to bring it down. She would need to know their methods. How they war. While she didn't fear Fereldan, King Alistair knew and feared her prowess. It was the others she needed to learn. Their strengths and weaknesses. How could she overcome an enemy at a continental level? The Akaviri made it easier. But can she convince her people that a land they have never heard of will bring war? She took a breath. She needed to stay. She needed to learn. Not only where her land was, but also of theirs. She needed to make sure her people were safe from these barbarians. These heathens. These monsters.

She pulled the blade from the forge and started to hammer again. How much could she reveal without weakening herself? She had already made the mistake of coming here, but it was a blessing in itself, in a way. The library was minimal, but the "off the records books" deep in the pit of Skyhold held more value than what Dorian claimed title over. Those books, those are the ones she needed. And those books were off-limits. Good thing she's a trained sneak thief. She's only been able to get one or two books out of the pit at a time. And even then, she had to do it in a way so as not to disturb the dust and spider webs.

"Lady Slayer"

She barely heard the voice over the other hammering as she looked up and saw a single soldier stand next to her stall. Their blue head covering showing a normal soldier. One of the Commanders. She kept hitting the bar, she had to set the metal before it cooled. The Soldier cleared their throat to catch her attention again and again she ignored them. Hammering the imperfections with intention until the blade chilled back to its dull angry orange.

She placed the metal back in the forge and let it reheat. She turned to the Soldier, using her bare forearm to wipe her face. "Blessings,"Uthreida said breathlessly.

The Soldier swallowed hard. Uthreida arched a brow. He was about to order her to do something for the Commander. She sighed, knowing he was just doing his job. "I'm working." She jutted a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the blade in the forge. "Can his meeting wait until later tonight?"

The Soldier looked at her then the vague area where the Commanders office was. His eyes wide in question as he uttered unsure sounds from his throat. She took a patient breath. He feared the Commander more than he did her. She smirked, knowing she had to give the same show for her 'dearest husbands' reputation. "Master Harritt" she called over the sound of the hammers. The older man with a balding head looked at her from his supervisory position with an annoyed pull at his mustache. "Commander needs to see me. Can you" she waved to the forge she was working on "if you don't mind?"

He looked truly annoyed but waived a hand to let her go. She nodded a thanks, knowing she would need to make two more weapons before he let her work on her own projects without scrupulous inspection. She needed a new lock for her door, but it would have to wait. Wait until she had something more defined than an Elder Scroll, old books, and a heathen altar in her room. She gathered her gambeson, throwing it over a shoulder, it was too hot by the forge now, and took another drink of her brandy as she and the Soldier exited the armory. She let the Soldier lead, pulling the jacket over her shoulders but left it open in the front.

She looked down at herself. Her hands and shirt were smeared in coal and her shirt was sweat-stained. The coolness of the mountain breeze chilled her heated skin. The rabbit fur in her gambeson would be covered by the soot and already started to smell of smoke. It would need to be washed soon.

She climbed the stairs, growing closer to his office. The Commander was a Templar. He still clung to their ways. Would he, could he, do to her what she had seen? They had the promise to protect and honor as husband and wife. Would he see making her tranquil as protection? She looked at the stones as she walked. They had also promised to kill one another. Would he be able to look past his teachings and grant her the kindness of death? If he could kill her. If she would let him. Her eyes surveyed the grounds below. Would he order the others if he fell?

The Soldier lead her to the door, but stayed on the other side, not opening the door for her. Uthreida arched a brow at the odd actions but lifted a hand to the door. She heard the sound of slapping flesh followed by the sound of crashing metal. She rushed the door, believing the Commander was being attacked. But without a weapon, she would have to resort to magic.

She entered and saw the Commander staring down another Soldier who was staggering to his feet, a hand clamped over his jaw, and looked at her with wide fearful eyes. The Soldier was in orange. Two more Soldiers in orange stood adjacent, watching whatever just happened without emotion.

The Soldier looked at her then at the Commander. His eyes panicked and he took a step away from her. The Commander kept his back to Uthreida, watching the Soldier. "Confess" the Commander growled.

The Soldier looked at her. Uthreida lowered her brows to the room. Unsure of what she just walked in on, but the Soldier was afraid of her and the Commander. But apparently did something that warranted the Commander to punch one of his Soldiers. Uthreida squared her shoulders, lowering her chin. Better to stand with the Commander now in public and scar him later in private. If he was using her as his personal enforcer, he had another thing coming.

The Soldier looked away, dropping his eyes to his feet. "I did it." He said softly. "I-it's true, I"

She heard the Commander give a rumble of hate from his chest as he looked at the Soldier. "Strip him, place him in a cell. Get this disgusting filth out of my sight." The two Soldiers moved, grabbing the man by the arms, and started to drag him from the office.

"Commander," the mans voice shrilling in either hate or pleading, "you're making a mistake. My father-"

"Will learn of what you have done" Commander Cullen roared over him, clenching his fists tighter at his sides, shaking from the anger that rolled off him like the forge she just left. "Get him out" he ordered through clenched teeth.

The Soldiers dragged him as he grew closer to her to pass.

Uthreida stood aside, staring him down as he passed. She waited until they were out of eye and earshot before closing the door and locking it. Her own anger looked at the Commander who was bent over his desk, taking deep measured breaths. She stormed to him, placing her hands on her hips. "Why was he more afraid of me than you?" When he didn't move. Didn't respond. "It's unusual, given your men."

"You have a reputation." He stated monotone, still focused on his breathing, not looking at her.

Uthreida swallowed hard. "Why does he think I'm your enforcer?" Her tone was supposed to cut the parts of him that weren't armored.

His amber eyes met hers, and she saw the intensity and disappointment that made him a feared leader. "You have a reputation as a black paladin. Given what he was charged with, seeing you" he tilted his head as if it severed the conversation. "Of course he's afraid." He stood tall, taking a final deep, measured breath as if counting to calm himself. He gave a fake smile at her presence to fool himself into a better mood. "I wasn't expecting a quick response, to be honest. I thought you'd take your time. And then he reported and, well." He shook his hand to remove the pain from whatever blow he delivered to the Soldier.

Uthreida arched a brow at him. She had never seen him that open with violence. The Commander usually resorted to verbal defamation rather than actual assault. Even then, he loved his troops. What caused him to snap? Even she couldn't make him snap like that. "What did he do?"

He chuffed, taking a seat. "if I tell you, you'll just take care of it yourself and circumvent the point of justice. Now" he shuffled a few parchments on his desk looking for something.

Uthreida looked at him with the same skepticism. She leaned a hip against his desk. "What did he do?" She asked again, more playful. Her voice holding a bit of a song to it.

He chuckled again and looked at her. She watched as he looked her over, mildly confused. "Something's different." He looked her over as if to try and find it. "Your hair? Right "

She raised a hand to her hair unconsciously, feeling the braid pulled back and pinned down like a bun. "I suppose."

He grunted, still looking for something on his desk. "You look terrible, by the way. Not that I'm complaining seeing you covered in work." He shot her a playful smirk that she met with her own condescending grin. He looked at her again, seeming to find what he was looking for, and leaned back in his chair. Uthreida watched him as he folded his hands over his chest, looking at her with respect. "Master Harriett tells me you're doing some good work at the forges. That your method of making charcoals is both inventive and primitive." Uthreida dropped her entire face in a look of offense. "He says that it helps to make the steel stronger even if the method seems too obvious."

Uthreida dramatically shrugged her shoulders. Was he talking about using the bones? Master Harriett seemed off-put by the idea as well. She had to explain that the properties of the bones released more carbon into the charcoals that would make it burn hotter. When he didn't get it, she used the same idioms her Uncle used she was younger. If you place the bones in the forge, you get the essence of the creature in your work. As she grew older, and learned of enchantments, using the bones just seemed like a good way to use the entire hunt rather than just the hide for fur, meat for food, soul for gems, and bone for metalwork. Nothing wasted.

"He was impressed."

She shrugged again. If they had fire salts, she could show him something worthy of impression. If they had ebony, she could fix her loose pauldron on her armor. If they had soul gems, the possibilities.

"So, the reason I called you in is because Lady Josephine passed this off to me." He lifted a few pieces of parchment but kept the back of the pages to her so she couldn't see it. "Cabot, the barkeep, I'm sure you've met, seemed particularly interested in when you're getting paid." He lifted his brows to her, as is she was supposed to guess the point of this conversation. She looked away, her tab couldn't be that... she's been here a month and a half and didn't have any money.

She looked at him with a guilty smile.

Cullen smirked. "I hope you don't mind, I've taken the liberty of counting your tab." He rustled the sheets, holding them away from his face, and tilted his head. "Sixty-four pints of ale." He looked at her with wide eyes. "For starters, this is a thirty-day tab. And it's impressive. And not for a good reason." He looked at the sheets again. "Sixty-four pints of ale, fourteen bottles of Antivian brandy, two bottles of Orlaisian whiskey, four bottles of Ravaini rum, two bottles of Navvarran wine, and one bottle of scotch. Dated after you left my office after stealing my own bottle." He took a deep breath, looking at her. Then sheets again. "Not including the ale, that's twenty-four bottles in the last thirty days. And you were not in Skyhold for two weeks." He put the parchment down, then looked at her. "It is impressive and concerning." He leaned forward, looking at her with a still face.

Uthreida crossed her arms. She tried not to show anything on her face. She drank, partly because of her culture, but it also kept the thoughts and voices at bay. It kept the memories away. She was a happier person when she drank. Without it, she would've fallen on her sword a long time ago. It let her sleep blissfully. It kept the dragon quiet. She kept her eyes on him, waiting for his next question. Not letting him see the weakness she had. Seeing her desire for internal peace becomes her own undoing as the usual Nordic tradition of drink.

He quirked a brow. "This doesn't concern you?" He asked.

She shook her head slowly. "No. Sounds normal."

"Sounds" he started but leaned back in his chair, a look of mild surprise took him over as he studied her. He took a breath, looked at the paper again, then back at her. "Uthreida, you are aware that this much alcohol equates to about six pints a day to include the liquor. Which begs the question, are you an alcoholic?" She could hear the concern in his voice.

Actually, she thought, she bought the bottles for fieldwork or during the day. It would be closer to 3 pints a day as she drank every day and not just in the hold. "No." She stated quickly.

He looked her over again, his amber eyes watching her with skepticism. "No?" He repeated, and she knew he was about to monologue about something. "You don't have a problem with your alcohol consumption?"

She shook her head, feigning disinterest. "No, two hands, one mouth. I think I figured out the problem."

"That's...not what I meant." He sat in silence and Uthreida felt his eyes, his growing concern. His anger was more comforting than this. He gave a heavy sigh. "How often do you drink during the day?"

She shrugged. All-day was the honest answer, but he didn't need to know that. "Your Soldier pulled me from the forge moments ago. So-" she left it vague for him.

He arched a brow. "I can smell it." He stated deadpanned.

She met his eyes and looked away with guilt. She forgot the elf ear. She forgot to chew the elf ear before entering. She was concerned with the tranquil and then with protecting him that she forgot. Shores bones.

"If you're drinking, while working at the forge, I'm concerned what else you do drunk."

"I don't get drunk." He quirked a brow at her, obviously remembering Redcliff and the Mire. "Often."

"Please tell me you don't hunt dragons drunk."

"Not drunk." She corrected, folding her arms over her chest. His jaw dropped when he looked at her. Barely making a correction. One golden brow raised in surprise.

He exhaled as if punched in the stomach. "To be honest, I'm not seeing much of a difference." He licked his lips, pointing at the paper. "This is...Maker...you" he ran a hand through his hair. Uthreida noticed it gave a slight shake as he spoke. He didn't appear to be angered, and the midday sun heated his office to the point where she could smell the wood from the flooring and the mild mold from the age of the stone. He wasn't cold. So why does he shake? He breathed again. Looking her over, his eyes seemed to soften a slight degree. He shook his head softly. "May I ask?"

She pulled her head back slightly. "About?"

He licked his scar, a tick he had when he had to speak on a subject that made him uncomfortable. "Why do you drink so much?"

She looked away, letting her cheeks fill with air as she thought of Lady Greymane bleeding out as she sacked Whiterun, the troll on Hrothgar that she wasn't prepared for. The Butchers work in Windhelm. Farkas reaching for her, the blood pooling in his maw as his clawed hand reached her. And she pulled away from him. The rejection in his wolven eyes seconds before he died.

"What happens when you don't drink?"

The dark thoughts. The spiral. The sharp edge of her blades and the thought of sweet release that was held at her own throat and hands. The roaring of the souls, telling her Ulfric only knew the one shout. How easily she could take it. It was a delicate balance. Drunk amplified this. Drink elevated her. Without...she hated the without.

The Commander gave another sigh as he looked at her. "You appear to be a functional drunk." Uthreida arched a brow. What was that? Nordic? Did he mean Nordic? "Lady Josephine has found a buyer and we await for the coins to be delivered. But-"

Uthreida perked up when she realized she was getting paid soon. No more favors, no more reliance on others. She can pay for her own. "I can go." She stated quickly with a grin. If they're waiting on a delivery, she can meet halfway.

Cullen gave an amused smirk at her. "It's being delivered. Of the sixteen hundred owed, one hundred-twenty-eight royals will be withheld from your pay to give back to the tavern. That said, this is from the first thirty days you were in Skyhold. Any debts owed from then to now will also be withheld from your pay as well."

Uthreida heaved a groan. Like she could avoid paying them. It's the only mead hall in the hold. But held her hands up in surrender. "Aye. Do as you must."

He gave an amused brow as if he offered her a choice. "Thank you." He leaned back in his seat, looking her over in thought. "I would also like to request that you cut back on your drinking."

Her look of mirth dropped to a scowl. Who does he think he is? Her eyes lowered to his hand that was shaking slightly and scoffed. The nerve. Pampas ass. Who is a Templar. Tranquil. War. Appear small when you are large. She sighed loudly. Choose your battles, she thought. "It's an earnest request. Your drinking could possibly endanger the men. Yourself."

"You didn't show any reserve earlier when you requested I train or protect your men."

"I didn't realize it was a problem." He responded slowly as If to apologize for his oversight.

"You've called me a drunken berserker since I arrived."

"I" he bit back his retort with a sigh of resignation. "Didn't think it was this bad."

Uthreida shot him a dark look. But knowing the man and his pride, let it go. "I promise nothing." She stated. An honest assessment was met with his rising irritation. "But" she sighed, choosing her battle, "I will see to it that it doesn't get worse."

His half-lidded eyes showing his full annoyance of the request but relented. "I suppose it's better than nothing." He looked her over, his eyes squinting slightly as he took in her crossed arms and annoyance. He arched a skeptical brow when she realized how she must look to him. She placed her hands on her hips in a natural stance. "Why are you doing this?"

Uthreida lowered her own brows. "Ha?"

"This." He waved a hand at her. "Why are you" he frowned then waved it off. "Never mind, I'm not going to question it."

Uthreida held her hands at him in question. "What are you talking about?"

"You're taking this" he paused as if to have her reaction, "rather well." She realized she made a dramatic face of confusion that caused him to be more skeptical. "Is everything alright?"

She felt her face scrunch in a dramatic show of distaste and confusion. "Why are you being weird?"

"Not to look a gifted horse in the mouth, but you've been acting off for the last few days. What's going on?"

If she had something in her hands, she would have dropped it for effect. "Let me get this straight, I fight you, you get angry. I don't fight you, somethings wrong?"

He cut his eyes quickly as if in thought. "Basically." He watched her as she rolled her eyes at his logic. "If you're not complaining or fighting, something is wrong. And you've been...compliant for the last few days. Well, for you anyways. What's going on?"

She shook her head as if to shake out the darker thoughts in her mind. She decided to deflect and give him the anger he was, apparently, more comfortable with. "I'm just curious how a man is going to tell me to cut back on my drinking when his own hands are shaking."

She watched him look at his own hands to confirm her observation. He pulled his hands from his desktop, onto the armrest of his chair, slightly clinched. He kept his eyes off of her as he spoke. "Maybe one day, we can have a conversation where we aren't biting one another." He looked her over and took a deep breath. "My apologies, I shouldn't have asked. It won't happen again."

She watched as the color of life drained from his eyes as he took a more cooled position in his chair. Waiting for her to excuse herself. She watched, any semblance of sympathy or comfort dissipated in moments as he sat there. She looked at him awkwardly. Given what she had seen of the man, this was uncharacteristic of him. She breathed hard, unsure of what he expected. When a man cannot share his whole heart with a friend, he lives a half-life. She looked him over. She was his wife. He was her husband. Didn't he deserve to know what was troubling her? Further, couldn't he answer her questions about this land? She looked around to make sure they were alone. "I-"

"It's alright." He interrupted.

She chuffed with a humorless smile. "Apparently not."

"It's fine" he pulled a quill from his desk and parchment to begin writing something. "I overstepped my bounds. My apologies."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly as I said. You don't want to talk to me, that's fine."

She growled at the situation and let go of her reserve. "There is no talking to you. "He smirked, dropping the quill back in the inkwell. "Anytime one of us is willing to communicate, the other shuts down. And whenever we do, it's an interrogation. You have answers that I can't ask because you are just so...you. And there's just no talking."

Cullen arched a brow, watching her as she huffed in her own rage and resentment. "I'm well aware of the situation before us." He stated calmly, folding his hands on the desk. "I am also aware of the fact that you are my wife based on a relationship of mutual interest and not...interest." He cleared his throat before continuing. "But, I also look forward to a day when our communication doesn't turn into an interrogation but rather open and honest dialog. If you have questions, I will answer them the best I can in the hopes you will do the same. We can lock the doors for a few minutes if it would make you feel more comfortable."

Uthreida stepped back, looking at him suspiciously at his open request. He's lying. She thought. But his posture was open, his eyes were waiting on her response. He sat patiently, waiting on her. She arched a brow, this is a new path that she wanted, but, was unsure of where it led. He can read between the lines when he wants to, but he's also a military mindset. If she revealed she cared for the tranquil, he'll see that as a tactic he can use against Tamriel. She smiled as kindly as she could, deciding to fake her position as best she could while still garnering information. "What did the Soldier do?"

He arched an unamused brow, looking her over. "That's your question?"

"Aye," she stated smiling.

He ran a hand over his face. "Uthreida, come on. You were just complaining about how we can't speak openly."

"That is my question." letting her stubborn pride take root.

"No, something else is obviously bothering you and you're obviously deflecting."

"That is my question." She stated finally, making her point.

"Maker take you." He sighed hard and leaned back in his chair, his mild annoyance showed in the little line between his brows. "For future reference, don't blame me when you're not helping the situation either." He shook his head in shame at her. "Captain Sorghum has been accused of, and admitted to, overextending his authority with his subordinates."

Uthreida watched as his jaw tightened at the statement and a dark flash crossed his eyes. But his vague response was hard to read. They were at war. Authority could mean anything. Did he butcher a village? "How do you mean?"

The Commander looked away, the soft leather in his glove sounded as he clinched his fist. She lowered a brow. Well-worn gloves don't sound when used. She could imagine that under the leather, his knuckles were white. He was truly angered, or scared. "He" Cullen paused, licking his scar again, "he was having inappropriate relations with his soldiers."

Her brows arched. Relations and abuse of authority only meant one thing. That Captain was raping his Soldiers and possibly civilians. Her expression matched his as fury and wrath overtook her setting her stomach on fire. He was right not to tell her. By now, the Soldiers would have him in a cell and under supervision. Yet, the indignation seemed to lessen as she looked at the Commander. His body grew taught as he didn't look at her. He seemed personally assaulted and offended at the actions. Not as a Commander would have to report this and have it stain the reputation of his soldiers. But as if it happened to him personally.

She looked at the wooden floors, memories of Stormcloak Soldiers entering taverns and getting too handsy with the wenches and females causing her to slam a few heads into tables to protect the women. Ulfric and Galmor watching with mirth as she beat them, but not addressing the soldier's actions. Smirking as she drove herself further away from the men. Smiling as the men would not see her as one of their own. Grinning as they would know drinking with the Dovahkiinikiin would not be as fun or relaxing as they thought.

She looked at the Commander. His personal offense seemed to relax her in an odd way. His demand for discipline amongst his troops caused the fire in her belly to cool. The red tent of her sister's bodies flashed before her eyes for a second but vanished as she met his amber eyes. He wasn't like them. He wasn't like Ulfric or Tullus.

Maybe in this respect, but what else would he overlook?

She took a deep breath, taking a step away from him. "How many are pregnant?"

He popped his jaw in distaste. "That's not, exactly, Uh" he scoffed, running a hand over his face.

Her anger renewed. This Captain was sodomizing his soldiers. "How many civilians?" She demanded in a low tone.

He took a hard breath, keeping his eyes away from her. "We don't know." He said above a whisper. One hand gripping the armrest ready to rip it off.

A dark smirk crossed her lips. She took two steps to his desk, her fingers digging into the wooden top as she leaned towards him. "Do you want to know?" She asked lowly.

He met her gaze. He mimicked her dark smirk, understanding what she was implying. But looked away after a moment. "Yes" he admitted softly, "but," his tone grew bolder as he stood to meet her. "The law is clear. Five lashings per incident with no more than thirty lashings a week. The man is already at twenty-five. Any more than the allowed per week would make him a martyr for whoever would listen. It would lessen our cause if we only hold onto criminals to see them flogged or tortured. While effective, I cannot ethically allow it." He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Besides, even if he did" he looked her over for the words "inform us of the civilians, there's no reparation's we can give that wouldn't indebt the Inquisition to them for the rest of the individual or child's life that may have come due to his actions. I will not pay for those transgressions in gold when they deserve far more."

Uthreida smirked. They could get more. She could bend the will of this Captain to return to the people he rapped. Hand them the whip and willingly expose his back to them. She looked the Commander over. She could tell he felt angered and useless given the circumstances. "There is another way." She said lowly.

He looked her over, slowly. Taking in her stance and malicious smile. He lowered his brows at a question he wasn't ready to ask. "No." He swallowed back his question. "This is the only right, legal, ethical way forward. No civilians have come forward. When they do, I will direct them to Chevalier Lance Bongugriux. His father can pay for his own misdeeds."

Uthreida quirked a brow as she stood slowly. "Aren't Chevalier above the law?"

He paused, chuckling at her understanding. "Not entirely."

"Meaning mostly."

He scoffed again but nodded in agreement. "I can see what you're saying. We operate mostly in Fereldan now. To direct their quandaries to an Orlesian Chevalier would" he sighed, "and with the threat of occupation," he rubbed his neck in stress. "I'll speak to Lady Josephine to see what the best course of action is." He looked her over with a smirk. "Be prepared to. Work" he offered an awkward smile. Uthreida stood tall, crossing her arms. That secret was between them. Not for the Inquisition. "Off the books. Of course."

She arched a brow at his understanding but nodded thanks to his discretion.

The commander cleared his throat quickly as if he wished to change the subject. A floating speck in his office seemed to distract him long enough to drive the conversation. "So what's really bothering you?" He asked softly.

When she looked up, the light from the arrow slat hit his eyes making them look lighter than before. Instead of the usual amber, they shone like gold. In the light, she noticed how thin his skin looked, the darkness under his eyes, and the weariness of his position. But his voice was strong. His hands, fumbling and still unsure of where they stood. She looked away. She clenched her jaw, holding her arm, and stepped back into the shadow of the room.

For the last few weeks, she had tried to speak highly of him to those who felt comfortable speaking lowly around her. She had defended him where she could. But in this enclosed space, with him, she couldn't speak. He had promised to keep her secrets but didn't elaborate to what extent. They agreed to be married but kept one another at arm's length. She looked away. Hating that she was the one creating this chasm, but protecting herself and people from him.

She heard his armor click as if he nodded. Understanding her silence for what it was. Just as hesitant as she. "Didn't you request today off?"

"Ha?"

"Isn't the archery contest today?" Her eyes went wide as she forced thoughts to remember her days. "It's Tusdas. It's today."

"Shores bones," she stated quickly and turned on her heel. How could she forget? She needed to wash and clean, and prepare for-

"Good luck in the contest." He called to her back.

She looked confused at him for a moment. "I'm not competing." She paused to think of it. Well, not entirely. He looked just as confused as she felt at the comment. She turned to face him. He was her 'husband' and should know. She gave a forced breath. "I have an arrangement today."

He arched a skeptical brow but seemed to smirk as she looked as awkward as she felt. He leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. "An arrangement? Like a bet?"

"No," she felt the blackness pool in her stomach from guilt. "I will be attending the competition with Warden Blackwall." Why did she feel guilty for telling him this? It's not like he cared, why should she? They had agreed on an open marriage. That was the agreement. Right?

"Ah" he said with a smirk. "A date."

She felt flush at the bluntness of the statement. "You should attend." She said with a smirk to deflect her own guilt.

He gave a forced chuckle. "With you two?"

"No." She said quickly with wide eyes.

"Do you need a chaperone?" He asked between bits of laughter.

She smiled wide as she approached. "There are several kitchen girls who eagerly abandon their duties to see if the Commander will dress down in the morning rings. You should, uh," she let her eyes lower to his chest, "you should go. Get out of your armor for a few hours."

When she met his eyes, he looked away. She noticed the slight pink on his ears as he rubbed his neck. "I have a million things to do. Besides, someone using their authority for personal gain is something else I'm currently in the middle of."

"Cullen," she addressed him with a tone of authority that made him snap straight. "You need to learn how to have a little fun. Those million things will still be there when you get back. Relax a little." She gave a naughty wink at him that made him look away. She smirked at his fluster and realized how adorable he was when he was sexually out of his element. And wondered if she could use it to throw him off track from time to time.

He cleared his throat, licking his lips as he smirked. "Have fun." He stated, waving a dismissive hand at her to leave as soon as possible.

She smirked at his now red ears and saluted him mockingly as she exited the door she entered. She kept a quick pace as she crossed the courtyard to see the competition was being set up. She had maybe an hour before the competition started. She looked to the ramparts and didn't see Blackwall. Good. She had time. Her eyes drifted to the armory and groaned. Make that three weapons before she could make what she needed.

She made it to her room and prepared for her, what did he call it, a date?

She washed, argued with herself on hair and dress before she settled on a half updo of her hair with her bangs braided back. Her oversized green shirt with the sea silk under-bust corset from Liliana with her thin but tight black leggings and boots was her outfit. The colors clashed, but she was out of time. She picked up her gambeson but realized it reeked of smoke and soot. She placed it back on the bed and opted for the woolen knitted shall to wrap around her shoulders. The light wool and sea silk will have to do for now.

She exited her room to hear the heavy footsteps. She turned to see the dark Warden smirked at her. He wore his usual brown quilted gambeson, leather trousers, gloves, and boots. But his hair and beard looked tamed. Brushed. Washed. She smiled, glad to see she wasn't the only one arguing with herself over a small collection of attire and trying to look her best.

He approached with a bow, holding out a single hand. "M'lady."

The warmth in her stomach reached her face as she smiled. "Warden." She took his hand but felt flushed as he kissed her bare knuckles. She felt the bristle of his beard against her hand and the warmth of his breath, the softness of his leather gloves. He ran a thumb across her knuckle as if to rub in the kiss. When he looked at her, all her resolve left as she tucked some hair behind her ear, only to remember she pulled it all back off her face. She felt stupid in that moment. But he only smiled at her. He pulled her hand into the crook of his arm. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting." He said smoothly as he guided her from the garden.

"I was hoping the same." She smiled bashfully at the man.

He chuckled from low in his chest as they turned the corner. "A gentleman would wait for a thousand sunrises to see a beautiful woman waiting on him."

She smirked at a thought. "Oh, aye. What about you?" She gave a teasing grin at the dark man.

He looked down at her. His arched brow screamed offense, but his smirk welcomed the challenge. "I see we're going to have to work on that tongue of yours." His voice was low, deep, and promised. His eyes grew dark for a moment before he looked ahead at their destination.

Uthreida felt her smalls moisten at the idea of his dominance and their dance to come. "I think you'll find my tongue does plenty of work on its own."

"Absentmindedly." He stated low, watching her as she took playful offense at his bluntness. He held her hand before him on the narrow stairs. "Princess" he offered. The smirk showing the subtext he was offering. She scowled at his "spoiled" comment but took the lead, with her head held high as she passed him. Taking the stairs with a sense of dignity and kept walking without him to their desired destination.

She heard him chuckle when he had to pick up his pace to catch up. He walked beside her, keeping his hands behind his back as they walked in mutual silence. Eyeing the other in playful pouting, before he sighed in feigned annoyance. "My apologies." He offered as they crossed the northern ramparts. He placed a hand in the small of her back to guide her out of the way of oncoming Soldiers to keep their privacy. She allowed his hand as it forced them to be closer. "I didn't mean to offend."

"Yes you did," she said with a smile. "You knew I would not be offended but would be too proud to admit allowing you to sanctimoniously apologize allowing you to continue to this facade of being a Noble Thane even though your thoughts would prove otherwise." She looked at him with a victorious smile. She watched him as he didn't even hide the struggle of her figuring out his hunting pattern and the desire to uphold social norms, all while grinning at her. "So, Gentleman Blackwall," she playfully sneered, stopping to face him, "Is there more work for my tongue to accomplish?"

He paused, raising his chin in thought for a moment. He leaned down next to her ear and whispered "A few thoughts come to mind." He held a hand out to their destination to direct her to the northwestern interior corner of the ramparts. She saw the raw lust cross his eyes but he blinked it away. Uthreida smiled at his 'kind gesture' and followed his directions into the corner. There were a few crates for them to sit on to watch the competition below in the courtyard. She looked around. She wanted to get them a basket of food and drinks before the date, but perhaps thirst and hunger would offer an excuse to pop into the alehouse and seek more privacy. And undoubtedly Sera's distractions. Or Bulls comments.

He sat on a crate next to hers and overlooked the courtyard. There were twenty to twenty-five participants in this month's competition. Liliana had set up five targets as she and a few of her scouts held boards and quills in their hands. They were listening raptly to, what Uthreida assumed was, Liliana's rules for the competition.

"Certainly shaping into something," Blackwall said. "It's no Grand Tourney, but I suppose it'll work for morale."

There was something in his tone that made Uthreida arch a brow. "You don't think it'll work for morale?"

He scoffed slightly. "Not really. Line soldiers just want to do their jobs. Command 'encouraged' competitions like this only hinder it." He looked at her to see her confused and he smirked. "If an Inquisition Soldier wins this tourney, I'm sure Lady Josephine will use them to attend some noble's tourney in a few months. Now, that Soldier has to travel to it while the other soldiers have to cover down or find a replacement for the Inquisitions eagle eye. It might be a great way to get out of work for the day, but creates more work for the future." He gave a small sniff to the air. "But competitions like this build morale and a spirit of the corps. Helps to create a proud service to the individual. Hopefully," he chuckled, "this goes better than Commander Cullen's bouts last month."

She arched a brow and didn't know what he was talking about, but let it go. "You mentioned a grand tour- ah?"

"The Grand Tourney." He asked with an arched brow. "The Grand Tournament of the Free Marches. Every nation has one at least annually." Uthreida shrugged with a sheepish expression. He scoffed but leaned back on his hands as he looked away in thought. "The tournament is held across the lands where soldiers, Thanes, free men can gather to either make a name for themselves or their company. They choose which bouts they want to enter such as team meley, single mealy, and archery. But the main event is jousting."

"Jousting?"

"Equestrian warfare." She was more confused. "Two thanes on horseback with a lance with the intent to knock the other off the horse." She was still confused until he explained it all further in more detail. She was finally able to connect the dots and told him of Jarling Day. It was the same concept except they also threw small boulders, ran up mountains, or hills depending on the Jarling, hunted, and wrestled in unarmed combat. She found the intent and proposes tended to be the same as it allowed warriors friendly competition and helped the local economy supply the festivities. Political events would also occur but were more of a backdrop for them as the locals and lower classes engaged with the events.

They watched the competition set up as five archers took their positions. She would comment on stance and they took friendly wagers on the winner of the bouts. The one that confused both was a man who looked Avvar. His stance was awkward, his draw was ill, but he won the three rounds of the first bout. "Maybe it's a psychological tactic?" She suggested meeting his shrug.

They watched the next few bouts with the same understanding as before as she called out the stances but he knew some of the soldiers and visiting nobles by name. They were tied on winners as they both learned more of archery from one another. What was supposed to be four bouts was more as Blackwall suspected that Liliana had a two to three disqualification chart thus allowing a true victor instead of accidental luck. And to draw this out for the few competitors.

Their conversations went from archery to other areas of their lives as they grew to sitting closer to one another. At one point, she noticed, he had removed his gloves and their hands were laced together. She didn't know it had happened. Their conversations moved so fluid that she was more interested in hearing his voice than the actual words. He could be reading her the Chant of Light and she wouldn't ask any questions.

She looked at their hands and felt a slight heat climb up her neck. The last time she felt this free, this relaxed, this safe was with Farkas. She had forgotten how freeing it was to be with someone like this. But Farkas knew what she was from the start, Blackwall didn't. Couldn't know what she is. She left the trepidation to creep up her throat as he rubbed her thumb with his own.

"Something the matter?"

She looked at his silver eyes. No. She looked away. Blackwall has blue eyes. They're not the same. "No, everything will be fine." She smiled at him, but he noticed something that made his smirk falter. Uthreida looked away. It's been a year and a half. She had to let him go. She had to move on.

Blackwall wasn't Farkas. They were...similar, sure. But, Blackwall was a Warden who slays...monsters for a living.

Blackwall is...tall, dark, and honorable.

Blackwall was older. He had blue eyes.

She bit her tongue as she realized that she had a type that he fell into. A type that apparently encompasses looks, honor, humor, craftsmanship, compassion, laughable dominating tendencies, hunting patterns, charity

Gods damnit.

She could even see the same future with Blackwall as she did with Farkas. The exact same.

Her hand touched Farkas's ring on her necklace. They had three years together. Battling, fighting, training, hoping, yearning, happiness, and then...then she.

His hand clutched hers tighter, pulling her from her memory. She met his eyes and he seemed to read the sorrow in her soul with the same compassion. "Do you," he started softly. "Do you want to leave?"

She put on her best smile for him. "But we don't even know who will win." She offered a hand to the competition.

"The Avvar won five minutes ago."

She looked down at the courtyard to see agents picking up arrows and clearing the area of the foot traffic. She wondered how long she was brooding on his company before he noticed it. "I'm, so sorry. My mind began to wonder on me."

He smiled softly at her. "If it's the company" he started the joke but she didn't laugh as it was far too accurate. She felt him deflate beside her. "Come. I want to show you something."

He stood, still holding her hand in his. Uthreida noticed him drawing this thumb across the three interlocking triangle tattoo on her hand. She swallowed hard, realizing that the women here don't have tattoos as she did. Nothing about her was like this land. Would he accept that? She was slow to rise. "Do they bother you?" She asked softly. When he arched a brow, she used her other hand showing the hammer of Talos tattoo on her other hand to pulled the collar of her shawl and shirt down to show him the black interlocking knots across her collar bones. His eyes followed her hands, watching weaving with the knots until he looked at her eyes.

He shook his head slowly. "They don't bother me." He squeezed her hand again to pull her with him even as he bent to retrieve his gloves. "Come on."

Uthreida followed him. He released her hand as they entered the courtyard to replace his gloves but kept a courtly distance from her without touching. She smirked as he walked like her guardian.

Like he did.

I won't let them use me against you.

Uthreida closed her eyes in resignation. They are the same. Minor nuances, but the same. She looked to the heavens, knowing where they were walking. The clouds began to cover. Not to rain, but passing. She wondered if Farkas had met Blackwall, would he approve? Would he be proud? Would he understand? If he could meet Blackwall. Or would the wolf laugh at the bear? The griffin? Would the bear roar back or simply walk away?

She took a breath, taking in the smell of the stables, fresh hay, wood, and smoke. Blackwall left her side to retrieve something. Board, she walked to his workbench. He had made significant progress on his rocking horse when she noticed a rolled-up parchment on the table. She unrolled it, uncaring if it was personal, and stopped breathing.

She swallowed hard as she looked at it, her eyes wide. How did he have this?

Her eyes took in the charcoal drawing of Alduin's wall. Specifically, a rendering of the Last Dragonborn. Blade lifted to fight the great dragon alone.

No one had seen that wall in over a thousand years. How did he get this? She heard his approach and turned her panic on him. "Where did you get this?"

Her tone was more angered than she intended as he took a step back, holding a hand up in surrender. He tilted his head to try and see the parchment but looked at her instead. "I assume, Cole."

She looked at the drawing again. Around the drawing, in a spiral that she had seen drawn all over Skyrim, were words.

The ideals of the past are only ideas. They do not represent the present or the future. Only we can forge our fate.

She looked at Blackwall again with more questions than answers. She looked at the drawing, taking in the lines of the prophecy that had been delicately drawn. She took a deep breath. Only we can forge our fate.

Blackwall stepped closer, placing his work on the table to see the parchment she had. She turned so he could look at it. She placed it on the table for his inspection. Blackwall was silent as he took in the picture of the male dragon born, standing on the side of a cliff, curved blade lifted to the sky as he alone took on the dragon god of the end of time.

"Don't you have a blade like that?" He asked, pointing to the Akavri sword. She nodded. Why would Cole give this to her? Here? "What does it mean?"

She looked into his blue eyes with worry and only saw his concern. If she wanted this to work, if she wanted anything, if he truly was like Farkas, he would understand. She looked away. But he's also Theosdian. The ones she fears war. But he's also a Warden. Non-political. Like the Companions. Like him.

"M'lady?"

"This," she took a deep breath "this is my destiny. Was my destiny. My prophecy." He arched a brow in confusion to silently ask her to elaborate. "When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the word" she pointed to the Staff of Chaos "when the brass tower walks and tine is reshaped" she pointed to the Nudiuem "when the thrice-blessed falls and the red tower trembles, when the dragon born ruler losses his throne and the white tower falls," pointed to their reliefs "when the snow tower lies sundered, kingless and bleeding" she pouted to High Hrothgar, "the world eater awakes, and the wheel turns to the last dragon born." She pointed to Alduin then the warrior.

He looked at her, then the portrait. "That's you?" He asked, pointing to the warrior in the center. She nodded slowly. "You're supposed to kill this world eater?"

"I did," she spoke softly.

His breathing seemed to change as he looked at her. What was once a steady rhythm of solace was now shallow and irregular. "You," he stopped to look at her. "You saved the world? By yourself?"

"They helped," she offered, pointing to the three original warriors that stood on the relief.

He was silent for a time. His silent contemplation was stifling. Finally, he chuckled, scratching his head. "Seems like what we're doing is so small in comparison."

She didn't correct him. She didn't move to coddle him. She let the truth be said without stopping it. He swallowed at her silence. "Thank you," he said softly causing her to look at him in confusion. "For helping us."

She lowered her eyes slowly, returning to the picture. Knowing what she does now, of both Thedas and Tamerial, did she make the right choice? The wheel turns to the last dragon born. The wheel of time. The wheel of change. Was Parthurnax right? Was she supposed to end this Kalpa? Was that the hope her ancestors spoke of? Most of the towers are sundered. How long will Nirn limp without them?

"I, uh, I finished it." He said softly. She looked at the wooden disk in his hands. He turned to reveal an outstretched hawk in flight. While the carved details were not life-like, it was better than she had drawn. This was the definition of 'you know what I meant'. She smiled as she took it in her hands. Craftsmanship. She thought, thinking back on Farkas's wolf armor.

She noticed that he used a darker stain on the negative space to give definition against the natural oak hawk. She turned it in her hands. "Where is your signature?"

He smirked and pointed to the three knicks on the side of the plate. She noticed it was done in the darker stain as well. "This is very well done." She said with a smile at him. She met his eyes as she held it to her chest. "What do I owe you?"

He held up a hand and smiled. "Nothing."

"I will not have that." She stated, poking him in the chest. "For such craftsmanship, a price must be paid. I am told that I will be paid soon. Name your price and you shall have it."

He looked away in thought as she was vague but shook his head. "It's a gift."

She rolled her head. "A gift I commissioned." She whined. But looking at his smirk, he wasn't budging. She looked at the plate again, its detailed work, and smirked. "If you will not accept gold, perhaps I can repay you in deed or favor." She leaned towards him with a sultry smirk. "Name your price." She waggled her brows with a smile. Her intentions made known to the man.

He snorted quickly at her vivacious invitation and looked away with a blush creeping up his neck. His eyes fell on his desk, and his smile fell slowly. She looked over to see him looking at the portrait. When she looked at him, she saw worry, concern, but also fear in his eyes. Her face fell as she waited on his words. His next move. She swallowed back the darkness that was creeping up her throat. Yet, looking at his features and the possibilities before her, she no longer felt the flipping of her stomach as she looked at him. Her lungs were no longer constrained. She was free of whatever crush she had on him knowing she would only see Farkas through him.

Blackwall clenched his jaw. "I need you to end this." His voice was low, sad, and filled with regret. "Maker knows I can't." His eyes glanced at the portrait, his fingers drawing along the blade of the dragon born. "Our lives aren't ours to lead." She followed his fingers. She wanted to hold his hand, tell him he was wrong. That we forge our own fate. His blue eyes looked away. "You'll have no life with me as a warden. And you," he looked at her, taking all of her in even as she tried not to show the dejection on her face that was twisting like a knife in her ribs. "You are so much more."

And for a moment, she saw what he was saying. What he feared in his eyes. He saw the duty, the implied sacrifices she would have to make. Sacrifices he would have to make with the Wardens. Their worlds crashing and crumbling around them in the war she feared. He was afraid of her future. Their future.

She closed her eyes, looking away from him. He lifted a hand to her chin to look at him, but she kept her eyes sealed. So what if he was just like Farkas. No. Not like him. She could remember his voice in her ear as he whispered to her "I am yours"

"And I am yours," she said with a smile, touching their foreheads during the afterglow of their lovemaking.

Farkas shook his head slowly, his face falling into regret as he held her closer. "No, Utha. You belong to the people. Even I can't afford to be so selfish."

She felt Blackwall's thumb stroke her chin, pulling her back. She could bend his will. She could command him to forget. She could command him to abandon his order and follow her. She could force him to hide her weaknesses. But when she opened her eyes, she saw his pain. His heartache. His fear.

She lowered her brows. Blackwall lacked the beast's blood. He lacked the intimate knowledge that Farkas had to teach her to overcome it. To drown out the distractions of the voices and focus on the hunt. To focus on being human. Blackwall would submit. He would follow without question. He would watch her become the monster she tries so hard to fight. He would love the darkness and allow it to overtake her as he wouldn't know how to fight her. But would die at her side or allow her to fall. All of this would happen if she bent his will. He had spoken. He had made his choice.

She relaxed her fingers on the disk, realizing she was holding it with a death grip at his words. His eyes, his beautiful, conflicted eyes and nodded. "I didn't realize how much you reminded me of him." She said softly, pulling the disk from her chest to look at it. She felt him pull his hand from her. Slowly dropping it to his side. "Had I seen it before, I would've saved us both the heartache." She gave a shallow smile as she looked at him. "I accept your terms for the gift." She said through a closing throat. She was the last dragon born. She had a destiny that she no longer knew but only that her blood was for greatness. And if she is in a new land, that new destiny was tied to this land, for good or ill. She looked at him and felt herself reached for his own face, culling his cheek. "You are a good man." She said softly as he looked away. She pulled him closer to catch his attention. "I hope you see it one day." Their faces now inches apart, she did the one thing she had wanted to do in so long. She placed lips to his forehead, and kissed him. Loving his mind, spirit, and understanding. She touched their foreheads, hooking her nose with his, and smiled sweetly at his presumed evil. "May you find the peace you seek." She whispered. Their eyes met for a moment. But the usual heat of his gaze was only a solemn warmth in her gut. She stepped away, allowing her hand to fall to his heart. She severed whatever this was to become before it even started. Taking another step back, she placed the portrait to her chest, between the disk and her own heart. Looking him over, his slumped shoulders, regret laced eyes, and smiled longingly. She took another step and allowed the future she once saw with him, with Farkas, slip through her fingers. Whatever future she wanted with them, retirement, children, peace, was no longer an option.

He wanted his duty. His solitude. She wouldn't bother him again with her loneliness.

She turned away, leaving the scent and warmth of the barn behind her. Letting the mountain wind surround her as she walked the hold. Letting the cold winds of change and destiny fill her once again.

She entered her room, setting the disk next to the hourglass. Akatosh and Kyne, sitting side by side. The Dragon of time and the Lady of Peace. No, Kynareth is the lady of peace. Kyne is the lady of the storm, the warrior goddess, the widow of Shore, and the warrior goddess. It was never about dragons and peace. It was always about dragons and war. That is her doom-driven blood. She let the emptiness of her chest fill her as she cast fire to light the candles. The bowl offerings of flowers were growing stale. The scent seeming more like a mold of the dead than the breath of the living.

Flowers, for Dibolla. She shook her head. No more flowers. She emptied the flowers and placed the portrait of the Dragonborn behind the hourglass. The glass magnifying the Dragonborn in her eyes. That is who she is. Who she was supposed to be. She felt her eyes turn to the wooden trunck that held the pelt of the snow bear. She felt compelled to walk towards it. Her hands felt the thick furs of the bear. Using a knife, she cut three of the claws from the paw. Tsun, the god of trials, would be a better offering. She placed the three claws in the small wooden bowl. May her trials be worthy of the hall. May she find honor in the pain. The wind moved over the mountain, and through the trees. Though they sway, they do not break.

She knelt on the carpet before her alter, her eyes going to the portrait of the Dragonborn.

Talos, the Great Uniter.

Uthreida, the pathetic lovesick thief. She shook her head. She removed the necklace, lacing the leather cord around her fingers, the hammer symbol in the center of her palm, and Farkas's thick golden ring around her thumb. "I love you, my red legion," she said to herself, remembering Heimskr sermons. "For in each of us, he saw the future of Skyrim. The future of Tamriel." She looked to the hourglass, the hawk, and the bowl. "The future of Nirn."

Her eyes flicked back to the hawk. If it is the kiss of peace she wanted, she would have to wage war first. And with this distraction out of her way, she could move with a clearer focus.

How to destroy the Chantry. How to kill the Maker. No, that would make her Thalmor. She looked at the ring on her thumb and the hammer in her hand. How to unite these lands will be her purpose. But she can't rely on the King for answers. She can't rely on the Inquisition. She had to find them herself.

Xxxxxxx

Cullen tried not to storm his way across the lower bailey to the stables. A full day. That blasted woman has been missing for a full day. Makers breath. She missed her daily check-in twice and he had to find her. Quietly. He couldn't let it get out that he can't control or locate an asset. An expensive asset. One he just got back not two weeks ago. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Maker, this woman is going to kill him faster than the lyrium.

All of his Captains reported full numbers. Which means that she doesn't have an escort. He checked everywhere he could think of between his off time and still no sign. With a heavy breath, he checked the stables. Looking, he saw the usual horses for the inner circle, his, and, low and behold, an empty stall.

"Maker preserve me" he muttered.

That woman is awol. She had no right. Now, he has an all-powerful mage, who thinks she's a dragon, traipsing around Thedas. Doing Maker knows what. And now, he's the fool who can't keep track of a single woman. A single dragon-slaying woman. He breathed hard. Don't suppose he could just follow the sounds of screams.

Maker, the Avvar. If they find her, they could- she could. Maker. If she felt trapped, she could've just said something. He could've done some 'field training' for the men and let her go under that ruse. But now?

He ran a hand in his hair again, resting his upper body on his elbows on the door to the empty stable. Now he has to find her. Now he has to track her. And he was sure, now that she had clothes, now that she knew enough to blend, she could be anywhere.

He sucked his teeth and took a breath. Now he has to take this to Liliana to request rangers to find and locate her. Now, he had to deal with her ire and whispers of his incompetence.

Maybe Royoc is right. The symptoms became too much for the last few days. He hasn't been able to focus on anything. If he can't focus, he can't help the Inquisition. After this. After he finds Uthreida, he needs to have a conversation with Cassandra.

"Commander." Cullen turned to see Blackwall give a single-handed wave from the well as he split wood. "Morning." The dark warden gave a small smile as he placed another log on the stand.

Blackwall. He was the last to see her. As far as he knew. One place to start the investigation. "Good morning," he called back, trying to keep the anxiety off his face as he approached. "I was looking for my headache. Have you seen her?"

Blackwall lowered his brows even as he smirked. He shook his head slowly. "Not since yesterday."

"Where did she go?"

Blackwall looked him over, his smirked slowly fading as he looked to the ground in thought. Cullen noticed the axe in his hands waver as the Warden sighed. "Makers balls." He stated defeated. "I'll pack a horse."

Blackwall slammed the axe into the stand as moved around him to the stables. "Blackwall," he called as the other passed. Cullen checked their surroundings subtly as he stepped closer to keep this conversation private. "Where is she?"

Blackwall gave a sigh, rubbing his neck. "She came down yesterday and started to pack her horse. Master Dennet asked where she was going, and she mentioned a hunting trip."

"Hunting trip?" He asked, his brows lowering at the idea.

"I thought it was odd considering no one was going with but didn't say anything."

Maker breath, he let her slip. "Why?"

"Because" he watched as Blackwall took a deep breath, his words catching. The man squared his shoulders and crossed his arms. His eyes on the ground as he kicked a leg to shift his weight. He licked his lips and gave a sheepish shrug.

Cullen was vastly confused. Just three days ago, Uthreida proclaimed that she was going on a date with-

His mind halted as he looked at the man with wide eyes. "What did you do?" His tone was terser than he would've liked, but if the man did what he thinks he did.

Blackwall met his eyes, with a sigh, he dropped his shoulders. "Look," he raised a hand to defend but kept his mouth shut.

Cullen breathed his annoyance and placed his hands on his hips. "Warden Blackwall, did you...rescind your advances to the Slayer?"

Blackwall looked at him and chuckled. "That's one way to put it."

Cullen threw his head back in agitation. Blackwall was his unofficial escort to the Slayer when not in use by Royoc. And now, Maker. He took a calming breath. "How did she take it?"

The older man arched a dark brow in playful banter. "Commander, are you looking for gossip?"

"No." He cut his hand across them but paused. "Technically yes. But that's not the point. I need to know her mindset if I have to track her. Is she angered, hurt, confused? How did she take it?"

Blackwall rubbed his neck, his face guilty but willing to help. "She said I reminded her of you."

Cullen bared his teeth in pain for the man. "Sorry."

"No." He shook his head. His eyes slipping as of into a memory. "She didn't seem mad, or angered, or" he shook his head. "She seemed like, she was at peace."

"Peace?" He arched a brow at the comment.

Blackwall crossed his arms again. "Look, it was mutual, alright."

"Right," Cullen stated with a smirk. The panic still in his heart. He looked at the gatehouse and sighed. "She left yesterday. What was she wearing?"

"Usual armor. Weapons. She looked like she had packed for a few days."

He nodded. A few days. She intended to return. Or get to the local village, sell everything and go missing. "Did she say where she was going?"

He was silent as he thought. "North."

Cullen grit his teeth. There were only mountains to the north of them. Where could she possibly go? Or told people that she was going north to throw them off her trail. No. He remembered their previous conversations. The woman can't lie. She values her power. She's never lied before. She's also never had her heart broken here either. Lying could be a reasonable alternative. "Did she look panicked, or in a rush?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. She had a pleasant conversation with the kitchens before leaving. Asking them what they wanted. I think she just wanted to get away for a while. For apparent reasons." Blackwall cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders.

Cullen held a hand to his chin. If she asked the kitchens, she intended to return. Or make it look like she did so he wouldn't hunt her down. Maker.

"Should I prep the horses, Commander?"

He shook his head. "What else did she say?"

He shrugged. "Nothing that" he stopped. "She seemed, excited," he said slowly. "I chalked it up to you letting her go solo."

Cullen took a deep breath. What would make her excited? He clenched his hands in thought and nothing came to mind. He looked at the gatehouse with an annoyed eye. She would've gotten news about something. If she really is from Skyrim, she wouldn't know anyone here. Who would send her information? The king? Even then, it would pass through his office first. He sighed, resigned to the fact that he didn't know his wife half as well as he likes to pretend. But she knew the rules. Why would she think they changed?

Cullen looked at the facts. She packed for a few days to go on a hunting trip. She's going to try and bring back something for the kitchens. She's excited to be alone. And headed north. There was nothing but mountains to the north in three to five days' ride.

"Commander"

"I'm thinking." He looked up to the clouds. Her gods. Did they tell her something? Now he's grasping at straws. The breakup was mutual, or so says Blackwall, because he reminds her of himself? That didn't make any sense. He could hear her voice as if some distant memory saying "into the woods to lose my mind and find myself" but couldn't recall a time when she had said it.

He looked at the warden with wide eyes. These last few days have been a blur, and with the Inquisitor in Redcliff on business, she snuck past him as he underwent some of the worse symptoms. Cullen spun on his heel as he quickly walked back to his office. "And there he goes." He heard Blackwall muse to himself.

Cullen spun again and returned for the Warden. "First, this never happened." He waved a hand at their general vicinity as the Warden laughed. "Second. You are either the bravest man I know or the stupidest for doing what you did."

Blackwall shrugged at the tease. "It's a thin line."

Cullen looked him over. "Can I ask why?"

"You may not."

"Fair enough." Cullen took two steps away but turned to look at the man. "Come on." He egged with a smile wanting answers.

The warden's shoulders shivered in repressed laughter at his antics. "I don't court married women." He stated with a smile. "And" he heaved, "She's ready." Cullen arched a brow. "To settle down. Leave this life behind her. As a warden, I-" he looked away, and Cullen could see the small furrow of regret on his face.

Cullen was thankful for the insight. He walked back to the man, rubbing his neck. "I suppose I should thank you for not making a cuckold." The man only kept his arms crossed as he looked Cullen over with a smile. Cullen had no idea what that look meant and was intended to keep it that way. "On second thought, spare me the details. Thank you, again." He said louder as he walked away from the Warden.

He made it back to his office. He frantically looked at every missive, every note, reorganizing his entire desk in a matter of minutes. And then he found it. A scribbled note in the corner of his notebook from two days ago. Even he had to squint to read his own writing. "Slayer, hunting trip, 4 days"

Makers breath. Between the migraines, hallucinations, and nausea, he sanctioned her trip to get her out of his office and away from him. So she couldn't see. So he could hide.

Cullen gritted his teeth. He did this to himself. He lost the dragon slayer as he was slowly losing his mind. It's his fault. If Thedas falls. It's his fault.

He threw himself into his chair and covered his eyes. The smell of mold from the stones and the books at his back eased him for reasons they shouldn't. He focused on his feet, planted on the wooden floor as he breathed.

He wanted to hate her for deceiving him, but she didn't know.

He wanted to kill her for taking advantage of him, but their lack of communication would create another angered, frustrating conversation. Even then, he didn't even remember this conversation.

He wanted to be rid of her but thought better for his men.

He eyed the top right drawer of his desk. He pulled the drawer open completely and saw the small wooden box in it. He pulled it out. He felt his heart skip a beat and his stomach flame when he opened the lid. The relief of Andreste, holding her sacred blade with lifeless eyes looked back at him. The three, small blue vials glistened in the light of the sun. He could practically taste the lyrium on his tongue already.

His men needed him.

The Inquisition needed their Commander.

Thedas needed them.

And he needed this.

No more headaches. No more hallucinations. No more weakness.

He picked one up, thumbing the seal. He could end this.

He took a breath, smelling the pine of the box and memories of better times. Looking at the red velvet of the box, the feel of it even in his own gloves, made him sweat in anticipation.

He needed this.

He deserved this.

He looked at the liquid, his jaw clenching. The thought of its freedom, and its chains.

No one believes he could do this. Even Cassandra held her reserves. He could see it from time to time. Though he had come to see her as an older sister, he could see her fear of his failure.

His hand shook as he held the vial, his thumb breaking the seal out of habit as it laid open for him.

"Rendered to dust. Bitter is sorrow,

Ate raw and often, poison that weakens and does not kill."

Cullen stated the chant as he looked at the vial. The poison that does not kill. Just destroys everything else. He resealed the vial, placing it back in the box.

"Why must the Shield of Alamarr shatter

'Neath bond and blade? To the wisest I sang,

To the wing'd cup-bearers of the tall sky-vaulting,

To the wintry halls of strong mountain-kings,

Where in days forgotten, voices there raised

Might be gift'd answer and those seeking find." He placed the box back in the drawer and shut it.

He slipped from his chair and found himself on bent knee. His folded hands clasped at his chest as he said his own prayers. "Loving Maker, please grant me peace of mind and calm my troubled heart. My soul is like a turbulent sea. I can't seem to find my balance as I stumble and worry constantly. Please, oh Maker please, grant me the strength and clarity of mind to find my purpose and walk the path you've laid out for me. I trust your Love, holiest of all, and know that you will heal all wounds of my soul. For there is no darkness in the Makers light. Please bring me clarity with the light of your love. Amen." He stated kneeling. Repeating the desire for strength, fortitude, and patience. Feeling himself rock with each passing word.

With a clear mind and lightened heart. He stood. He looked at his desk again. The scrawl of his own writing mocking him.

He looked at the door with new resolve.

He needed to find her. And Liliana was the only way.

He would owe at least a favor but would be worth it. He had to fix this. This one thing. Then he would step down. Then he would recover. Then he would lose his mind.

Xxxxxx

Uthreida sat on the side of the mountain. It's been two days. The flames licked at her, keeping her warm. She didn't mind that it made a scene in the mountains. She needed the fire in case he saw it he knew where to go.

It had occurred to her, because she a fucking idiot, that if this is Nirn, like she thinks it is, this should work.

She took a breath, holding the snow bear pelt closer to her to block out the wind. She had chosen the lower of the mountains but made sure to keep her distance from Skyhold and their camps. In the silence of the mountain, she looked to the blackened sky to look for him.

Odiviing

She had called him once. And his dragon pride should call him again to her side. He seemed perceptive when they had met. He seemed like taking out Alduin was a good idea. But as for following her here, where ever here was, was still a long shot.

But the dragon's voice, their name, was universal. She was hoping to tap into Mundas to bring him forth. After all, she had no idea where he was at when she called him to Whiterun. Maybe it worked. Even here?

She looked into the flames again. Gods, let's hope this works.

She knew she had three questions ready for him:

Where was she?

Why do dragons here have four legs and appear to be females?

What happened to Alduin?

And a fourth of time allowed:

How's Parthurnax and Skyrim?

She took a deep breath, taking in the smell of snow and smoke. If he didn't come tonight, she would have to leave tomorrow. It was a day and a half ride where she was. And she told Cullen it would be five days max. But she still needed to hunt to prove she was hunting.

She looked to the moons. Secunda was behind a half Masser tonight. At least there aren't any were-animals out tonight.

The mountain was silent except for the groaning of the trees and the wind. This is what she missed. She missed the smell of fresh snow and the wind of the mountains. Feeling so tall you could touch the sky. She missed the vastness of her home. The change. The fluidity.

She smirked, watching a fox trot across the snow.

She listened for the sound of beating wings, the tale tell signs of a dragon. She took a deep breath. "Od va viing" she shouted into the sky. Each time, hoping that he would just magically appear before her. Red scales and teeth, ready for tinvaak like he was last time.

Her eyes were growing heavy. It was late. She had to sleep at some point. Ragnar dragged his hoof in the snow, reminding her of his presence. "I know. It's cold. You hate the cold. As you have shown. All-day." The horse twisted his ears back and snorted. "You would not last back home." She uttered with a smirk. "This is mild compared to our harvest-"

She stopped, turning her head to the sound of wings. She listened, hearing it approach from the north. She closed her eyes. "Bas" she whispered and saw the red corporeal form of a dragon as it approached her. She stayed seated, checking to see that it had two legs and two wings only.

The closer it got, the wider her smile became.

This is Nirn. She thought, a grin threatening to rip her face in half.

The dragon landed down the side of the mountain and shook the area she was at. Ragnar whinnied, rearing on his hind legs in panic. Uthreida looked at him, his eyes were wild, white, and trying desperately to see the enemy. She stood quickly to calm him. Holding up her hands, the horse reared again, kicking his forehooves at the air. "Kaan Drev Ov" she shouted at Ragnar. The horse landed, his breathing becoming deeper and she placed a hand to his muzzle. "Shh" she ran a hand over his neck to soothe the beast. "It's alright. It's," she chuckled to the horse. "It's only a dragon"

"Dovahkiin" Odiviing called from below.

"Don't run, aye. Here." She opened her saddlebag and left the oats for him to eat at his leisure while she dealt with the dragon. "I won't be too far. If something happens, let me know."

Uthreida picked up her bow, quickly slinging her arrows across her shoulder as she hurried down the side of the mountain. Her heart raced with excitement as she grew closer to the red dragon. He heard her approach and turned quickly to meet her head-on. "Odiviing." Uthreida stated quickly. Excited to see him once more.

The dragon canted his head, something akin to a smirk curled at his lips as he watched her approach. "Drem yol lok, Dovahkiin." He said in his deep voice.

Uthreida felt the heat of his fire as she approached. She held her arms wide to imitate his wings a she bowed. "Drem yol lok, Odiviing." She let her fire touch him to embrace her heat. "How was your trip?" She kept walking towards him with a wide smile.

He sighed. "Tiid krosis. A thousand pardons. It was a long flight." He stood on his hind legs. Opening his wings to flap. But to her, it looked more like he was stretching than intimidating.

When she reached the red dragon, she did something that she didn't know if he would understand. She wrapped her arms around his muzzle and squeezed him in a hug. Thankfully in armor she wasn't worried about his teeth. He lifted his head slightly, picking her up off the ground. She saw that he looked confused but her back down gently. She released him and took a step back. He moved his head to get a better look at her. "Tahroven joor dreh." He said with what sounded like a soft laugh. "I had forgotten how odd mortals are."

Uthreida held her hands on her hips. "It's called a hug."

"You may keep your word, Dovahkiin. We dov do not have need for it."

She smiled at him, not hiding her own laughter. "Odiviing, I" she took a deep breath, letting the full situation hit her like a hammer. "I don't know where I am. I don't know what happened. I have so many questions. But there is no one here I can ask."

He tilted his head. "There are mortals in this land. I have seen them."

"It's" she sighed. Letting the frustration of all of this come to abreast. "Odiviing, what happened to Alduin? What became of Skyrim?"

There was a pause as he looked her over. The dragon took a deep breath before curling his wings under him to lay down. "Krif both akran. We dov looked for your return at Monovan. We felt our brother die. When you did not return, we believed you died while slaying Alduin. We believed no mortal could withstand his thu'um, weakened though it was. Parthurnax now tries to lead us in the way of his voice. But without your superior Thu'um, the dragons will not listen to our brother's peace. When you called me, I informed the others."

Uthreida swallowed back the fear in her throat. "The dragons still destroy Skyrim?"

He shook his head slowly. "Some do, waiting for your domination. Others have heard your thu'um, and already kneel to your voice. I included."

Uthreida furrowed her brows at the information. She still needed to put those who want war down to allow peace. She clenched her jaw. He mentioned Parthurnax, he's still alive. That was something. She was successful in her mission. "Where am I? From what I can gather from the mortals, Tamriel has never heard of or even knows of this land. And this land has never heard of Tamriel. If you flew here, where am I?"

The dragon tilted his head, his horns acting like a brow. He stood slowly back to his feet. "Come closer to me." He said in his graved voice. Uthreida held the pommel of dragon's bane as she walked towards him. Stood closer, but he only watched her. She took another step until she was standing at his chest.

"Yol Koraav Lein" he shouted. From his maw, a fire spewed, but it came up in different areas even as he didn't move his head. It came forth from below until the once snow-covered ground started to smoke. He sat on his hind legs as if he was complete. Uthreida looked at the smoke, then at him. "This is the world as the Dov know it." He tilted his chin at the patch. "This is what you seek."

She arched a brow, having no reason not to trust this dragon, she stepped forward into the smoke. She crossed a line in the fire and looked around. When some of the smoke dissipated in the mountain air, she saw lines that were created from the fire. She looked down. Her left foot stood on what looked like a landmass. Further up, she saw what looked like the Amaranth sea. She followed the lines and realized, it was a map. She looked back at Odiviing with a smile and took a closer look. Upon the southernmost area must be what they call the Sunless lands. North was Yokuda. To the northeast.

She smiled wide. She saw the inlet of Solstheim, and to the left, Skyrim. Tamriel was to the northeast of Thedas. Poteima to the direct east of Thedas making Akavir to the North West of Thedas.

She had a map. A way. A start. "What is this land called?" She asked, jumping on what she could safely call the Vinmark Mountains.

"Pindaar"

Uthreida said it again slowly. Committing it to memory. "I don't suppose you know the mortal name of the land, do you?"

He shook his head. "Tiid Krosis. I do not know what the mortals call it."

She looked at the map. It's a start. She can use this. She just needed proof from the mortals to give to King Alistair so it can be used to create trade for-

She stopped herself. Why? She looked at the red dragon. He flew here. He could take her home. Tonight. Tomorrow even. Why stay?

These people have embarrassed her. Questioned her. Called her a liar. A barbarian. They look at her with a fear that they don't even know of yet. This Chantry needs to be uprooted for all that it is. For its evil vitriol that it spills into the masses of hate. Why stay to help these backwater, mage fearing, closed off, warmongering, single-minded people when her people need her more? Those dragons won't kill themselves. They can't and the longer she's here, the more homes they will destroy. The more people they will hurt.

Hadn't she sacrificed enough souls to Alduin while she fought a war? Fought the Black Sun Prophecy? Fucking Mirrak. The people needed her. And, by the Nine, she needed a horker steak.

Her boot dragged on Fereldan. Her eyes taking in the grass of it. Odviing's map didn't define land rights. It didn't define local resources or mountains but where the land met the sea.

Why help these people, she asked, a sneer forming on her lips. She looked at the vast ocean between Thedas and the Summerset Isle. Tamriel is safe. Relatively. Whatever Corypheus tried to do, it won't cross the sea to them. Her eyes shifted west. Akavir was closer. But after the history, good riddance. Her eyes looked east to Poteima. While not a strong trade partner, their war was with the high elves, not the Nords. Is she really losing anything by letting Thedas fall?

She could feel the hammer amulet of her necklace start to burn her chest. She lowered her brows. Talos was trying to tell her something. Uthreida looked at Odiviing's golden eyes and saw Commander Cullen's. She had promised him. She had promised him she would kill Corypheus or his dragon. She had promised Royoc to help. She looked at the mountains around her. She promised King Alistair trade. She signed a contract. An old habit from the Brotherhood, but one of honor, reputation, and commitment.

Nothing good can ever happen to people who break their vows. If she ran, after she promised, oathed, and contracted, she would bend her swords herself. Never to lift a blade again. She would lose her honor as a warrior if she ran. Even to protect her own people. If these people ever made it Tamriel, eventually the truth would be spoken of her cowardice.

She looked at Odiviing, wondering how she would ask him, a dragon, what to do. He tilted his head while looking at her, waiting for her to speak. She looked away slowly. He would tell her to bring subjugation to those around her. To make them heel to her. To bend them to her truth.

Her eyes traveled to the island of Solstheim. Like him? Like Mirrak once did.

She held her hand to the hammer on her chest, feeling Farkas's ring against her. She wanted unification through peace. War, if required. She was mortal first, not Dov. She wanted to use her heart and mind to bring this dream. She is no priest. To act like a Dov in the world of mortals would only bring them to their knees like it did in the dragon wars. No. That's not who she's trying to be. The world had enough monsters.

She turned finally, knowing her course of action, and sat before the dragon. Hating herself and questioning her own form of honor. "There are dragons in this land I have never seen before." She said. Odiviing lowered himself to her level, his one golden eye on her. "They walk on four legs and have a separate set of wings. They are larger than you. Larger than Alduin. They have young." The dragon canted his head as she spoke. "I think they're female." He lifted his head a little higher, other eyes now trained on her. "From what I can understand of the old stories, dragons simply are. They don't mate, there have never been confirmed dragon eggs. How is this possible? Or, even why?"

He sat up taller as he looked down at her. He made a sound as if a short laugh. "Your stories are wrong, Dovahkiin." She held her breath in the hope he would elaborate. "There are two kinds of dragons. The world menders and the minute menders." He stated deeply. "We males used to use our thu'um to help and aide the mortals. But our counterpart, the Gill mend the time wounds from Mundas and Aetherius. They mend the dragon breaks that occur. Together, the work of the dragons ensures the world is maintained in balance, the physical and the mystical. Thusly, when it is determined that the world needs to be destroyed, we work in tandem to destroy it. Female dragons do exist, Dovahkiin." He looked to the sky as he spoke. "They are large, voracious, and beautiful." He tilted his head at her.

Uthreida looked at her hands in thought. "Then how come we have never heard of them?"

The dragon sighed heavily. "During the war, Alduin ordered the females to run. To take the dovilaan when it seemed like we were losing. We had already lost our home once, and didn't want to lose it again." He breathed as if reliving a memory. "He ordered them not to speak to the mortals as it was becoming clear that mortals desired our power. And it was becoming our undoing. They fled. And we dragons faded into memory." He looked at her. There was a look of melancholy in his eyes. He had lost someone. Some dragon. If that was a thing.

"The females came here?" She asked.

"It would appear." He sniffed the air but looked at her again. "It would explain the barrier." He canted his head as he gaged her. "As I flew, I noticed that my magic in this land was weaker than when I tracked over the ocean. The Gills fortified the land to make it more difficult for the mortals to pull Magicka from Aetherius."

Uthreida felt herself smile. She gave a victorious fist pump. "Knew it." Odiviing arched a brow making the dragon look at her with mild confusion at the odd mortal customs. "Krosis." She stated sheepishly. "I noticed it as well when I came here. Like there's a second vail that prevents magic to be pulled in the usual manner."

He pulled his head back. "What do you mean usual?"

Uthreida smiled. "The mortals here have found an alternative method for restructuring their magic use."

He made a move like a smile. "Ever inventive, you mortals are. But I suppose Julianos is to blame for that." The dragon opened his maw, revealing all his teeth. Uthreida realized he was yawning and felt the urge to do the same.

She stood and dusted the embers from her trousers. "Odiviing, I have made packs to this land that should be reconciled in a short time. But if you are willing, you can remain here. Stay with the females." He made a sound of approval, with a guttural growl that she was going to pretend like she didn't hear. "There is a dragon lair. South of here." She pointed approximately where the first dragon she had slain had taken up residence. "It has land, food, and if what I understand to be correct, there are other females in this land." She placed her hands on her hips. "I'm sure they need a strong male like you to help with breeding."

He chuffed quickly at her. "There is more in a Dov's heart than just simple breeding, mortal. But I understand your merits. And intentions."

She nodded quickly but looked away guilty. She should tell him before he finds out. "I am also a contract dragon slayer here." She said slowly, watching him watch her. While Paarthurnax had soft and gentle eyes, she never forgot that he had teeth. Odiviings golden eyes turned slightly protective as he lifted his chin to her. "The people," she sighed. "The females did as they were told. They did not speak to the mortals. They do not know your tongue." She paused. Bull does. Bull knows dovahzul. "Krosis. I misspoke. Some know. But they do not know the Thu'um. They think I simply slay dragons. They don't know anything of true importance, of dragons." He was still looking at her. Waiting for her to draw her blade and betray him. She sighed. "I needed information, Odiviing."

"So you murder our females and kiin for morsels of information when you could feast in tiinvak with our kind."

"I am mortal, Odiviing. The dragons in this land they," she shook her head. "The mortals don't understand what I am. And at this point, I don't either." The new question rising in her if she was Dov or Gill. She swallowed hard, only now realizing that she didn't put much thought into her actions earlier. "I am mortal, they are mortal. I must follow with my own people."

He scoffed. "And a flock of sheep make an easy meal."

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "They need me." She said softly. With a wounded brow, she looked at him. "I need them." Her people can recover from the dragon attacks. But only if she can supply trade.

He shook his head. "They weaken you." He stood to leave her. And she breathed a sigh of regret as he did. "I have felt your mastery of the thu'um, Dovahkiin. You are not mortal as they are. You are Dov, as we are. Accept your fire and fill your wings with the winds of time."

She shook her head. "No, Odiviing." She projected her voice to make sure he heard her even as he turned to walk away. "I am Dovahkiin. I am the dragon hunter. I am the last dragon hunter." He turned his head to see her over his back. The two stared the other down, waiting, watching. She lifted her chin to him in dominion, and he bowed his head. "I operate in the south. Fly north. Find your own grounds."

He canted his head. "The snow is my hunting grounds." He stated it as a fact. "The south has much snow. I will remain here."

She arched a brow and met his implied trial of her dominance. "Do as you must for your own survival. But know this, if I see you in the field, and I did not call you, our teeth will meet. And one of us will taste blood that day."

He turned slightly to see her. Uthreida held her ground as this massive dragon looked her down, and she didn't flinch as he slowly opened his mouth to reveal all his teeth to her. "If I see you in the field of battle, Dovahkiin, I will abandon the field."

She bowed her head to him and he returned it. "There is a disease in this land, friend. It" she furrowed her brows, unsure of how to describe it to him. "Dark creatures filled with a disease seek out dragons and taint them. Change them into something else. I would suggest tiinvaak with other Dov to see what they know of it. To protect yourself from them."

He paused, the initial look of disbelief slowly faded into mild concern as he nodded. "Thank you."

"I would also suggest staying away from large red crystals. They apparently hold the same disease."

He made a sound like a scoff. "And your last order, Dovahkiin?"

She took a breath. Dragons weren't known for their patience. She lifted her chin to him. "Follow the Way of the Voice. Harm no mortal, eat the wild game. Find peace and balance in yourself and the world around you, Odiviing."

He gave a final nod. "May you find what you seek, Dovahkiin. Ven Ko Viing" he issued his final statement before taking to the sky again. Uthreida watched him as he flew off into the darkened night. He roared as he flew. Uthreida arched a brow. Undoubtedly, letting the gills know he was in the area.

She turned and looked at the map again. She had a map. She smiled. A complete map of the world as the dragons knew of it. Her eyes took in all the crackles of the shoreline, their distance, committing it all to memory.

Wait.

She looked at the area around her. The map had melted the snow. A passerby could see this and, while she doubted they would recognize what it was, it was still odd to see in this place. She looked at it again. Ensuring she had the right placement and understanding of the nations, continents, before walking up the slope.

"Fus ro dah" she shouted to the snow on the ground. A minor avalanche of snow shifted, pushed down the side of the mountainside, and covered the map.

She slapped her hands as if she had done a job well done. The map is hidden and -

There were marks of a dragon landing and a human speaking to it.

She arched a brow.

Like anyone in this land knew anything about dragons anyways. That's a problem for tomorrow.

She felt herself yawn as she turned. She followed the yellow beacon of her campfire as she climbed the slope. She caught sight of Ragnar, still tied to his tree. At least he didn't runoff. She yawned again, wishing to fall into the furs.

Movement.

She drew her bow and nocked an arrow. She squatted low, her arrow was drawn as she went around her camp. "Bas" she whispered. When her eyes opened, there was a person sitting in her camp. She quickly looked around. Three more were hidden by the tree line to the east and a fourth was hidden to the west.

"Welcome, Dragon" the one in her camp stated, lifting something to his mouth. His voice was thick, low. Judging from the red outline of his form, he was large as well.

She was spotted. No sense in hiding at this point. She looked around again, five on one. In her full armor. With her melee and bow. She smirked. And no Inquisition soldiers around. She rolled her shoulders as she entered into the light of the campfire. Bring it on.

Her thu'um dissipated as she approached. The man sat on her bedroll, the snow bear pelt was folded gently where she threw it off her shoulders to calm Ragnar.

The man, easily taller than her by a head, and a heavier by hundred pounds sat, in his furs and skirts, drinking her brandy. He had his dark hair pulled back in five even braids to the back of this head. His thick beard was parted and braided in two evenly. His dark brown eyes watched her. His tanned skin seeming to drink in the light of the fire. He tilted his head, a small smirk formed on his lips as he took her in, she watched as his eyes slowly drifted down her form, then smiled as he saw she still had an arrow nocked. He met her eyes. Darkness crested over the camp as he leaned back. She didn't hear the usual sounds of metal as he moved. No ring mail. "May I sit by your fire?" He asked gently. Uthreida noticed the two-handed sword that he had laid next to him on the bedroll. He's big. But this fight shouldn't take too long depending on his armor.

She arched a brow at the comment. "I was about to put it out." She stated calmly, trying to look only at him, and not let him know she was aware of the other four hiding in the forest.

He smiled. "Aren't you afraid of the cold, friend?" There was a menacing tone to his voice as he spoke.

She took a step to side him, placing the fire between the two of them. "No."

He shook his head gently, tutting her. "Hypothermia is very dangerous in these parts."

"As am I. What are you doing in my camp?"

He gave an amused wave of his hand. "Heard the dragon was lured out of her lair. Without her guardian." The man shrugged. "Had to come see for myself."

She arched a brow at the comment. He's Avvar. But not one she had seen in the Hold. She looked him over and didn't notice anything worthwhile. "What do you want?"

His smile turned into a grin that revealed gapped teeth. He made a show of standing slowly so as not to upset her. He held his hands up for her to see the palms quickly. Given his movements, he wore leather armor. Only. "It's not about what I want. But what I can give you."

She scoffed. "Forgive me, but I'm low on gold in exchange for your 'staff'."

He smiled again, looking away with a blush as he ran a hand over his face. He nodded as he looked at her. "I was told you had a mouth."

She clicked her tongue at him, daring him to make a mistake. "Bas" she whispered again. The three in the forest were approaching, slowly. And because of her position, she couldn't see the one behind her and not reveal what she was doing to the man.

The man before her sighed but still smiled at her. "I'm Didreik the Ugly of Clan Beinbrot." She scoffed at his skaldic name. The 'not well prepared for open battle with a dragon' would be more appropriate. But it only took one of these fools with poisoned arrows to make this fight a difference. He stood taller as he took a step forward. She instinctively took a step back. He noticed and held out a hand across the fire for her. "And your name?"

"You've yet to tell me what you're doing in my camp."

He smirked. "Well, 'you've yet to tell me what you're doing in my camp.' It's a pleasure to meet you." She frowned at his joke. Realizing it was a timed event, she loosed the arrow, passing his head, and heard the hard thud of one of his men hit the ground with an 'oaf'.

The man turned to see the damage and was met with her second nocked arrow. "This bow has a long pull and my backs starting to get tired. State your business and be on your way."

He only smiled, looking deeply into her eyes. "How did you do that? My men are in full cover." She dropped the bow and shot at his foot. Piercing him to the ground. He took a deep breath of air but didn't scream. Yet. She smirked. "Oops."

She looked him over who was physically debating on getting his weapon or screaming. "I know some healing magic. But if you're done with your games, call your men in the open, we can talk. Or I can kill them all as you watch. Unable to move." She looked at the arrow and took a step back. "Make a choice."

The man only smiled. Biting back the pain as best as he could as he doubled over. "You were speaking to a dragon." He jutted his chin to the lower slopes. She arched a brow as he shook his head in wonder. "I didn't believe it was possible. Until I heard the rumors."

Uthreida nocked another arrow. "Bas." One was in her sight. Shining red against the nightscape.

She watched as the man moved, he slowly brought back his unpinned foot behind him, breathing and mild whimpering of the pain of the arrow in his foot as he kneeled. He held his hands up to her in supplication as she arched a bemused brow at him. "Dragon. I come to you, on behalf of Clan Beinbrot, to welcome you back, Great Spirit."

Uthreida blinked slowly. "Let me guess, there's a prophecy surrounding someone who is with the dragon blood?"

"Aye, Sky Lady. They who should hold the blood of the great ones would bring forth our need and take back the land of our ancestors."

Uthreida loosed the arrow on one of the men that was hiding in the forest. She didn't hear a body fall which meant she hit the tree. But she was sure it made the point that she knew exactly where they were at. She looked down at the man unamused. "Keep going."

He paused, looking over his shoulder to the forest at the Avvar that was enclosed around them. She noticed that he didn't once look behind her. Didn't smirk that she was off her count. Didn't mention that they weren't who in Oblivion was behind her. "Well? I'm waiting." She stated low. "Call them out, or I keep firing arrows."

"Mother, please" he begged. "Our clan is small enough. Stop."

Uthreida only nocked another arrow. "Call them out, or I will." When he didn't move, she drew.

"Alright." He placed his fingers into his mouth and blew a whistle twice. There was a silence on the mountain until she heard the crunch of snow as they approached from where she was shooting at them. Two men slowly made their way into the camp light. Both wielding short swords and each uglier than the next. Apparently, this Clan favored irony. The one on the left was small, scrawny, pockmarked. His hair was shaved bald with tattoos on the side of his head. His bulbous nose and wide jaw made her question parentage. The other was taller, more muscular, but appeared younger than the others as he hadn't grown into, what she assumed, was the clan face. "I've called them out. Please. Put away your weapon."

Uthreida looked down at the man who was kneeling and scowled. "That wasn't part of the deal."

"Please mother." He begged. "We" he looked to the men and bowed his head. "We've lost everything. We're the only ones left of the clan." She looked down at him, bored, exhausted, and hungry. "We heard you had returned and had to see for ourselves."

She looked at the three men and rolled her eyes. "This is the weakest excuse I've ever heard, and your groveling is pathetic. Tinvaak Vahzen." She gave him a moment to be controlled by the Spell. "Why are you here?"

"We came to see if you were the reincarnation of the Lady of the Sky."

Uthreida arched an annoyed brow. Wait. Didn't they mean Kyne? That was a question for another time. "How long have you been following me?"

"Since you left the keep."

"Didreik" the one the left urged. Uthreida lifted her bow to the man on the right. Her eyes on the one on the left. He looked to his fellow clan mates and kept his mouth shut. If they followed her since Skyhold, they live in the encampment below. But these men aren't Soldiers. Their pilgrims.

"Why did you come to the Inquisition?"

"Shelter" the man below her stated, angered that he had said it. He looked away as if ashamed. The younger looked away as well. "A demon poured from a fade rift in our village." The man below her kept going. "It killed our clan while we were hunting. We returned to burned huts and bodies, mother. We tried to bury them but even the birds wouldn't take them."

She didn't know much of the Avvar aside from what was told to her by the Inquisition library and Commander Cullen. She was forced to assume this was important to them. "We heard the rumor that the dragon had returned to the people, we wanted to see if it was real. To ask why you didn't take the bodies of our families." The man kneeling, still holding his hands out to her, and had tears in his eyes. "What did my ma do to deserve such ire?"

Uthreida looked at him, still having no idea what was going on, but didn't let it show on her face. "And this prophecy is to deliver the people to their ancient homelands?"

He nodded quickly. "Aye, mother." The other two echoed the response.

She eyed each of them separately. Under the truth spell, the truth would be ripped from them if they lied. Seeing as how his man elaborated, it was the truth. All of it.

Damn, Cullen was right. She did have a unification prophecy. While it's exactly what she wanted, the use of prophecies is usually an ill omen. Uthreida took a step back from the men. These were just lost souls, seeking shelter, and just lost their entire family. And she just killed one. She shook her head. "Is he with you?" She asked, jutting a thumb over her shoulder.

The men looked at her confused. The youngest on the right said. "We only had four in our hunting party."

"Stay put or I will hunt you."

Uthreida cast ice on the campfire and ran into the forest. She ran through the forest, flanking the hunter from the south where she expected them to run. "Bas" she opened her eyes and saw they were running towards her camp. She stopped and soon caught up with the final assailant. The muffle on her boots and quick stealth allowed her to approach the bandit before he could strike the hunters. Uthreida slipped her ebony bowstring around his head and pulled. The man was jerked back to the forest line. "Fos ro" she called the spell and watched as the bandit was pushed back into a tree hard. She had just enough time to pull her axe from its sheath and hold it to the man's neck. By the time he opened his eyes, she had an arrow poised to attack his exposed midsection if he raised his sword. "Drop your weapon, or I take your head."

The man snarled and she realized why he didn't take the bait. If her axe is on his throat, she didn't have the momentum to take it. She pressed the arrow into his liver. "Drop it."

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers, and she heard the clatter of the metal hit the ground. She took a step back, keeping her eyes on him. She put the arrow in the quiver and used her foot to pick up her bow. She slung it over a shoulder. "Walk." Her other hand on the pommel of her ebony blade on her hip as she waived the axe head towards her camp. She and her new prisoner exited to the camp. The other three had removed the arrow and the man's foot and were trying to wrap up the wound.

Uthreida pointed to one of the hunters. "Bind him." She stated quickly. The bald hunter stood quickly and seemed confused at the order, but pulled a rope from his own pack to oblige.

"You're making a mistake." The prisoner stated as the other walked towards him. The prisoner punched the man as he approached. The bald man recoiled at the hit, holding his jaw, but refusing to move towards him again.

"Yol" she shouted into her once lit fire pit. The four men each took a step back to see what she just did. In the roaring fire, She looked at the prisoner and he looked familiar. She lowered her brows. "Have we met?"

"Once," he said, crossing his arms over his wide bare chest. He wore the usual fur garb of the Avvar. His hair was slicked back in a single braid of a Mohawk. His red beard, while not as long as the wounded man, was well kept. "We met in the Mire after you slew Gormander."

Uthreida rolled her eyes. It's a damn Avvar bazaar here. She placed a hand on her hip. "Are you also here for a title?"

"No."

She looked him over at his quick response. "Then why did you attack?"

He looked at the three hunters and chuffed. "My father sent me here to protect you."

She pursed her lips. Why does every man feel they need to protect her? It's getting embarrassing. Her 'husband', Blackwall, these four idiots. Neglecting that she got these four to shut up. She sighed. "And you are?"

"Conant of Clan Edvaar."

She arched a brow. He was the Avvar that won the archery contest a few days ago. "And you've been trailing me since I left the hold."

"Aye."

She shook her head. She didn't hear or see a single one of them when she chose this spot. "Fuck. And I thought I knew mountains." She sighed, crossing her arms. Nothing like a humbling experience. "What are you here to protect me from?"

Conant looked at the hunters and scoffed. "The prophecy can't come true." The men made a sound of disagreeance that she waved off.

She sighed, board. "Why?"

"Because it doesn't exist. My father married you off to the guardian to prevent it."

She smirked. That cheeky Vigilant forgot to mention he had a prophecy too. "Guardian?"

Ragnar blew through his nose as if to make the point they were ruining his sleep. Conant looked to the others. "Do you even know the Sky Mother prophecy?"

The three men looked between one another, but none said anything. Conant rolled his eyes as he scowled. Uthreida arched a brow as she remembered Balgruuf the Younger 'here to lick my father's boots'. A small smirk came to her face as Conant was practically the noble of the group.

Or she was becoming delirious due to sleep deprivation.

Conant sighed. "Upon the winds, her wings will spread.

The mother to all, and to none alone

Over fields of dead and new

The people will cross the sea of grain and sinew

And there, beholden, upon the great mountain,

Will the people rejoice at the sight of the throne

Ancient and glory, valor and honor

We will join our ancestor's home in ceremony.

All be fast, there stand but one.

A guardian to keep the ways anew.

They dance in the sight of the three moons

And both shall return the people, to meet their doom."

She arched a brow at the poem. "Alright. Whatever that means."

Conant rolled his eyes. "It means, for the Alamarri to be reunited with our homeland, it will be a Great War to achieve. The Sky Mother is the mother of death. She would kill us all to give us the Promised Land. The guardian is one who will stop this war from happening. To stay her hand."

Uthreida looked away. Why is it always war? Why can't a dragon ever choose peace? She looked at the four men and sighed. "Look, I don't remember much from the Mire, mostly due to the drinking. But" she took a deep breath. "I do remember the spirits that occurred." She looked at them. "Atmora is...gone. It's inhospitable. I'm Nordic and even we don't go there."

"What happened?" The youngest hunter asked. His eyes seemed to dash away all ideas of hope.

She looked at the men and sighed. "We don't know. So much has been lost to history that we don't know why we lost it. All we know is that the last boat from Atmora was filled with the dead. We assume disease plagued the land." She sheathed her axe. Running a hand through her hair. "Look, I'm tired of being the chosen one, aye? This prophecy you want, it's impossible. The land you seek is too far for your people to travel."

"Then let us go with you." The youngest stated earnestly. His brown eyes and tanned skin looking at her like a last hope.

All she could hear was "The Reach belongs to the Foresworn" and "Skyrim is for the Nords" and "filthy imperials." Conant blew from his nose with a sneer on his lips. Uthreida looked at the mountains they were in and felt the wind push her south at the men. South towards the Inquisition. "I will not take you to Skyrim. This is your home. As Skyrim is mine. You are of a same" she said to the two clans. "As we are of a same." She waved a hand to indicate all five of them. The three looked at her while Conant arched a brow. His arms still crossed over his chest. "This is your ancestral home. And war has come to it whether you are prepared" she said to Conant to remind him of his own clan, "or not" she looked at the three hunters each. She looked away, her eyes going to the dead body in the forest. "We must do what we can to protect our families, our people, and our land. And all of you have looked to the Inquisition as means to achieve this." She knelt in the snow before Didreik. He scooted away from her for a moment before she smiled kindly at him. "The Inquisition can help us. All of us." She held her hand to him in peace. "It can help you reclaim your homelands. I can speak to the Inquisitor. See if we can draw out the demons. Help you heal the land as best we can. And you will serve as needed to help your fellow Avvar who have lost their homes in these times. Will you help them?" She asked, canting her head to the wounded man.

He looked her over, his eyes growing deep with regret. He shook his head slowly. "We can't." He said softly. "We abandoned our home to seek shelter with the false prophet. We're" he looked away. "We're not Avvar anymore."

"What a load of goat shit," Conant stated with a huff. The three hunters looked at him as he kept his face hardened to the men with crossed arms over his wide chest. "The fact you're here shows you keep to the old ways. You're still Avvar. The unbroken."

The three men looked to one another with a sense of renewed perspective. But she looked at Conant with a smirk. "Conant." She stated, pulling healing magicka to herself and forcing what she could into Didreiks foot. "How many Avvar, Chasid, or otherwise barbarians that tend to get overlooked are in the encampments of Skyhold?"

He arched a brow, giving a calculated look at her before he breathed. "Enough for a small hold."

When she tapped her magic, she stood slowly. "I will speak to the Commander and let him know that Clan Lofad Foramtiid stands ready to engage our enemy." He cocked a brow at her. His eyes recognized the old Atmoran words but said nothing. "And that Karl Conant leads them." He looked confused at her even as he stood defensive. She looked at the three hunters. "You are the son of a Chieftain. The son of a Thane. If your job is to protect me from the Avvar, gather them to fight for their own land. Their people. Redirect the prophecy. Change it to reflect what they are undergoing now. The lives they have lost. The families in the grievance. Lead them, Karl Conant, to the future they desire. Create the future they want and need. Create your own clan from the hardened warriors that are overlooked."

Conant shook his head and breathed deeply. "The Commander overlooks us because we aren't Andristian. Because we don't bow."

She cocked a comical brow. "The Commander is a practical man. He can see the army for what it is. If he overlooks you, it is because you lack something he demands. Discipline, fortitude, dedication?" She asked, watching the annoyance rise on his shoulders. "Prove him wrong."

He chuffed. "Why? So he can throw the unworthy on the front line and kill us off first? The cheapest of his military?"

She raised her chin to him in dominance, showing he had misspoken. He stood his ground. But when she stepped toward him, he lowered his eyes in apology, clenching his jaw. "I will speak to him. My husband can be reasoned with if you can prove you are worth the effort. If you can prove you don't need this prophecy. If you don't make me look like a fool." She growled the last line to this new lieutenant, emphasising the point of her own leverage and his required dedication to the battle. "The army we face is one of the ancients, As you well know. Your father was forced to leave the mountains to engage the enemy as Andreste did. This enemy only knows subjugation. And if you, the unbowed, the unbroken, the unbent, refuse his cull, what is left of the land that you claim? Who will protect your people if you can't, Karl?" Conant looked like he was calculating something in his head before looking at her expectantly. "Tyrants will tremble when free men take up the blade. What say you? Will you lead them? Or will you follow me like a duckling, waiting on your father's approval?" The warrior grinned at her proposal.

He looked away, with a grunt. She could tell he was mentally weighing his options. His eyes going to the hunters for a moment before shaking his head. "You intend for me to lead this barbarian army to keep them from getting to you so you can't lead them into the void?"

Uthreida licked her lips. "No. You will lead them in my stead. Until such a time can come when I can claim them for my own." She thought. She couldn't very well have her own barbarian hoard as she slept in Skyhold and have the Inquisition know of it. "But" her eyes trailed as she thought of the gold flecks in Odiviing and Commander Cullens eyes. "Aye." She nodded. "Keep them from me. Use them until I can direct their course to a more definitive path."

He shot her a skeptical look. "You, willingly, surrender your army."

"Is it not your job to prevent it anyway?"

He pursed his lips. "I suppose. But why stunt yourself like this? You could build with this small number at the gate."

She took a breath and remembered Odiviing. "I am not a dragon, Karl Conant. I am mortal. As the Dovahkiin, I am the vessel for peace and freedom for the mortals of this world. I have seen what happens when a dragon blurs what it means to have power. In time, I too will do the same. And when that time comes, your army that I bequeath and my guardian will be there to put me down. All I can do is hope that I set the world on the right path before my heart and soul becomes corrupted by greed and domination." She took a deep breath.

She saw how he mimicked the inevitable sorrow in his own eyes as he looked down at her. He took a breath and nodded. "You plan your own defeat. So you will know how to outmaneuver it."

"I set up the pieces, so that when I fall, what I will enact will still stand."

"Then why shouldn't I kill you now?"

She arched a brow. "Do you wish to test my steel now?"

He sighed. "No." He said with a smirk. "It's been a long day and I'm exhausted. Besides, you just spoke to a dragon. You just stood up to a dragon. And it bowed to you. I'm sure even I, as I am, won't stand a chance." He smirked. "Not without our army." He shook his head. "But I can wait. Until the madness takes over, and you leave yourself vulnerable."

She smiled at his foresight. "We are in an agreeance then?"

He nodded. "For now." He held a hand out to her to take. "I'll lead the army to stand against you when the time comes. But for now, I'll train and lead the barbarians at the gate, and pledge our services to the Inquisition."

She looked to the hunters. "Will you follow him? The son a Thane? Karl of your new clan?"

The three looked at one another but the bald one sighed. "Do we really have a choice?" He asked his clansmen.

The youngest shook his head but Dedreik stood up. He limped to Conant and took his arm in a shake. "We follow you, Karl Conant." The redhead gave a quick nod. Dedreik stood aside, looking at Uthreida.

Conant reached his hand to her again. "I thank you, Lady of the Sky. Your men will be ready for your war."

She nodded. "They better be." She took his arm in a shake. She didn't believe this prophecy for a moment but knew they did and did what she could to bolster the Inquisition and the Commander's army. And hopefully, this little transaction should be enough to shut them up.

She took a step back and looked the men over. "Now, get the fuck out of my camp."

Xxxxx

Cullen came to with a crick in his neck and his back pinching. He realized he was in an uncomfortable position. He remembered his conversation with Cassandra, then, he blacked out. He opened his eyes to see it was dark. No, not dark. There was light but, he was under something. His eyes focused and saw a pair of legs sitting in a chair in front of him. He saw the bookshelf behind the person and realized he was under his desk. In his office. And worse, the owner of the boots seemed to notice his rousing.

Uthreida held a hand open to him. Not to offer him up, but to keep him still. She scooted the chair back slightly but kept her eyes around the office.

"We can't find the Commander anywhere." Someone said. He lowered his brows at her.

She knelt down to retrieve something from her boot. She looked at him with wide pleading eyes as she pulled a knife from her boot. "Have you looked everywhere?" She asked passively. She pulled an apple from the desktop and used the knife to carve it to take bites.

"We've looked all over the keep and no one knows where he is. Even Lieutenant Overbridge doesn't know."

She arched an annoyed brow. "Man needs a steward." She popped a slice of the apple into her mouth and chewed slowly.

Cullen lowered his brows, trying to fight the growing headache. When did she get back? Also, how long has he been out and why is she hiding him? If he makes his presence known now, he'll out her as a liar to the men as well as himself who shirks his duties for naps, apparently.

Another office door opened and he heard the scraping of boots as they approached the desk. "Commander in yet?"

Uthreida rolled her eyes. "Do you see him?" She waved her knife vaguely to the office and cut another slice of the apple.

The man grunted. "Makers breath. We need him to look over the rotations."

Cullen clenched his jaw. He was needed and he's hiding from his duties like a child. "Well, Lieutenant, figure it out." She stated pointedly at him. "I'm sure the Commander has better things to do than scrutinize your incompetency."

There was a sound of indignations. "I beg your pardon?"

She arched a brow, not looking at the Lieutenant or Cullen. Instead, she looked to her left with wide eyes. "What?" Her tone annoyed. "You've been staring at me for two minutes. What?"

"Missives, misses."

She looked confused at the Soldier. "There's a whole stack, right there." She pointed to the side of his desk with her knife. Cullen smirked as he watched the growing irritation on her face as she felt with the Soldiers. She looked back at the apple in her lap, but the Lieutenant caught her attention again. "Why are you still here?" The other Soldier dropped off the letters and she thanked them as they left.

"Just wondering what you're doing here." The male Lieutenant stated. He could hear the sound of armor as they moved.

Uthreida looked slightly offended at the Lieutenants observation. "Oh, do I report to you now?"

The Lieutenant muttered something that he couldn't make out but saw the fury on her face. She took a deep breath as she looked at another soldier who was approaching. "He's not in his quarters, Ma'am, and his horse is in the stables."

She looked away as if in thought. "Was his armor there?"

"No, Ma'am."

She looked annoyed and he only smiled as he played along. "Catapults? He seems to enjoy calibrating them. He was complaining about the holes in the walls. Stonemasons? What about the requisitions office? Infirmary?" He heard armor again but she didn't move from his chair. "You two, Look in these locations and find out but keep your findings quiet. He's here somewhere."

Cullen stifled a laugh as he learned how she lied. While she's not honest, she didn't lie. Vague clues that allowed the others to draw their own conclusions. He heard two sets of feet exit and she looked at the Lieutenant again. Rage in her eyes even as she leaned back in the chair. "What was that comment again? Something about serving on my back?" Her voice growled as she looked the Lieutenant down. Cullen bit his tongue. He wanted a name, a face, of who he was going to punish for the next month for defaming her. His wife. For defaming the Commander. "Do you know who you speak to, boy?" She raised her chin as she spoke, switching her position on the knife in her hand. In her black armor, her raised chin and dead eyes, Cullen saw the ferocity and cooled regal rage she was trying to control.

He noticed a slight paused from the Lieutenant that caused her to smirk. "The 'lady' of the Commander." Cullen heard the flippant, implied response and felt his gut grow hot at the man's lack of understanding given his situation. He just called his wife a whore. He snarled and moved to sit up. Uthreida held a boot to his chest to keep him down. To keep him hidden. He looked at her and saw that she heard the same thing he did. He saw her body grow taught, ready to fight the Lieutenant in a moment. "Bold talk is often spoken from across the field." Her eyes drew to the tabletop, then at him. "So I'm curious, will you step closer to say that again? Or would you prefer I come to you? So that you may whisper from your cut-throat, about the improprieties of your whore mongering Commander?" She stood quickly, slammed the knife into the desk.

Cullen rested his head against the desk and let her work. His Lieutenant was becoming too comfortable defaming the dragon slayer of the Inquisition and its Commander. He needed to be put in his place. He heard Uthreida jump across the desk. He heard the scuffle, as well as the sound of metal of her gauntlet, meet the Lieutenant soft flesh. The sound of falling armor, and three more hits from her gauntlet.

Someone grunted in pain, and he knew it was the Lieutenant. There was a silent moment then he heard the armor run at one another and the sound of one of the chocking. "If you ever disrespect my husband or me again, I assure you, I'll have a new skull to drink my blood wine from. Do I make myself clear?" There was a silence, then a gasping for air. "You should thank Commander Cullen the next time you see him. It is his love for you that stays my blade now. We are short on officers, but rest assured boy, patience have their limits. Get out."

There was a quick scramble from the Lieutenant as they ran, slamming the door behind them. Then, one set of footfalls circled the desk. Uthreida moved the chair and crouched to where he was under the desk.

Cullen smiled as she looked annoyed. "My love?"

She gave a pained expression at his teasing pet name but held out a hand to him to help from under the desk. With their combined efforts, Cullen was pulled free from the confines of his desk. He stood up, stretching his back and rolled his neck. Shoved under his desk, while in full armor, wasn't the most comfortable position. He rolled his shoulders and noticed that she was looking at him with a mix of concern and agitation. He looked away, taking a deep breath. "So,"

The door opened, breaking whatever this was, and Cullen turned to see a Soldier standing in the doorway. "Commander"

Cullen looked at Uthreida who looked annoyed, with her arms crossed. She looked like she wanted to say something, but let him do what he needed. Cullen held a hand to the Soldier. "Is the hold on fire?"

The Soldier looked confused for a moment before speaking. "No, sir?"

"Then it can wait." He waved a dismissive hand to the Soldier and looked at Uthreida. She watched the door for him to make sure they were alone. Cullen rubbed his neck, a pained expression crossing his features. How much did she see? How much did she know? Why is she here? Did the Rangers retrieve her? Thank the Maker she returned. He met her icy look and breathed out whatever breath he was holding. She was angry about something and he needed to fix...something. "Thank you." He finally said with a soft smile. She grunted it off but kept glaring at him. He looked away sheepishly. He wasn't sure what she was angered about but also didn't want to talk about it. He couldn't reveal his weakness, though she obviously saw something. He didn't want her to know. He didn't want to tell her. He turned from her awkwardly to his tea set. "How was your trip?" He asked over his shoulder, checking the kettle.

She made an aggravated growl. He heard her armor move in dramatic flair for her. "So we're just not going to talk about this?"

He looked over to see her holding her arms to an empty space in his office. He arched a brow and returned to the empty kettle. Whatever she saw, happened here. He licked his scar. "No." He poured water into the kettle and stroked a match for the lamp below to heat it.

Uthreida paced his office behind him in silence. He could feel her eyes on his head as she moved. He took a deep breath, knowing she wasn't going to let this go but needed to tell her something that would calm her down. But while he wanted to be angry at her for taking advantage of his state, he couldn't fault her for it. He turned to meet her finally, his arms crossed. He wanted to yell, he wanted her out, but she wouldn't do the hold any good if she walked away angry. "Did you find what you were looking for?" He asked cautiously.

He watched her flex her hands in their distance. Her shoulders growing taught as she paced the width of the red carpet. Her eyes on him as she moved. She gave a quick huff and stamped her foot in frustration. "Well, if you're not going to talk, I will. I was walking the ramparts to yell at you about how your rangers 'politely' cut my hunting trip by a day when I heard someone fall. Run in, and see you. On the ground. Shaking." Cullen looked away. A seizure. He swallowed back his shame as he looked at his feet. "I watched you shake and convulse, and I thought, 'shit, the Mire. He contracted collywobbles'." Cullen arched a brow and saw her move her hands and eyes wildly as she spoke. "So, I'm trying to heal the best I can, but it's not doing anything, and then you stop, and I died a wee bit, then you started to breathe so I started to breathe. I'm checking for wounds when I realize that this office is not private at all. And I'm sitting over you, the Commander on the ground and a panicking Dovahkiin, because this is outside of my expertise, am I realize how it would look to anyone else. I tried to pick you up to make it look like you were napping, but, by the Nine, your heavy," Cullen chuckled at her panic endured story, "so, I uhh," she waved her hand vaguely to his desk. "I was hoping that the inner circle or a trusted captain would enter to order a proper healer, and then everything sort of got out of hand and-" she gave a heavy sigh, her brows furrowed as she ran a hand over her braided hair in frustration and panic. Cullen tilted his head slightly when she looked at him. Behind the bluster of anger, was concern and fear. He lifted his head in realization. She cared.

He smiled at her reaction as she looked away. "I thought I could leave and get a healer, but what if someone came across your, for lack of a better phrase, body and saw me leaving. They would make assumptions and then I'd break my oath of not killing off the Inquisition to prove my innocents. And then I thought of your standing, a General seen sleeping is weak, and I couldn't have that. So, I sort of, you know, sat there. Like an idiot."

"Scared?" Cullen offered, knowing he was smiling at her plight but couldn't stop himself.

"No." She crossed her arms quickly and looked away from him. Cullen shot her a playfully skeptical look that she missed. She breathed deeply. "I was" she paused again, gritting her teeth. "Angered."

"Angered?" He teased.

"And frustrated."

"That you couldn't help." He read her like a book right now and it brought a sense of joy to the situation.

"That I" she fisted her hands at her sides. He would've sworn on his life she was shaking. She felt more comfortable in her anger. While not healthy, makes for an easy target. She was scared. For him. Cullen grinned, watching her struggle to grasp her emotions.

She turned away from him. Moving further into the shadows of his office to keep her distance. She took a calming breath that shook. His smirk faded as she looked over her shoulder. She was scared. "I'm disappointed." She said softly. Not looking at him, but rather her fists.

Cullen drew his brows, watching her. "In me?"

"No." She stated quickly. "In" she tucked her chin in shame. Cullen stood up from his tea cabinet, careful to keep his arms crossed as he walked towards her a few steps. He grit his teeth. She shouldn't be ashamed of herself for his actions. But why was she? She made a sound as if her words were useless. She turned to look at him over her shoulder. Any trace of concern or guilt was replaced with distaste. She wanted him dead. Why would she care?

Cullen took a breath and leaned back on his heels. In their distance, he could see a chasm of their thoughts, feelings, and culture. And between them was a single, barely tied off rope bridge, and neither wanted to cross it in fear the other will cut the rope.

Cullen took a step forward.

The door opened again and another Soldier saluted as he entered. "Out," Cullen ordered. The Soldier looked at the room, saw Uthreida's anger. They gave a quick bow and shut the door behind him.

Cullen took a breath realizing the more he put their conversation off, the more it will be interrupted. He rubbed his neck looking anywhere but her. "Don't be ashamed of my decisions."

"How can I not." She stated with a scoff. Cullen bit his tongue. His actions were hers as they were married now. His honor was hers and vice versa. "You engaged in oaths with no intent to keep." He looked at her and saw her full fury. "If you are willing to break your oaths to me, what else will you lie about?"

He took half a step back and snarled. Did she question his honor? His word? Disgust started to rise in his throat. He knew she was lashing out, but she's crossing a line. "It doesn't matter. You want me dead anyway. What does it matter if I get there a little faster than you?" his voice louder and more heated than he intended.

"That's not the point" she roared over him, quickly approaching him to break the distance. "Seeing you dead and killing you myself are two different things, Cullen." He swallowed back the use of his name. "I will not have you strip me of my victory." She stopped an arm's length from him, with her hands on her hips. "Your life is mine." She growled the last word, trying to intimidate him, but only showing how barbaric she can be. "And I will not be your suicide. Not when you have oathed honorable battle."

"Why wait." He waved his hands to the rings outside. "Let's finish this."

She shook her head, disappointment twitched at her nose as she took a step back. "The oath was for after Corypheus. Not before. If you wish to break your oaths now, then release me from mine. All of them. Please."

He looked down his nose at her. She had oathed not to harm the Inquisition. To not harm Thedas. He can't allow that. "No."

She took another step back, shaking her head in disgust. "I just sacrificed everything because of you. Because of this. And you refuse to release me when it's obvious you have no intention of keeping your word. Your lack of honesty, fidelity and respect disturbs me and makes me question the core beliefs of the Inquisition-"

"How dare you." He snarled louder. "I turned my back on everything to be here. To serve the Inquisition. The vows I have left I keep. I will not be reprimanded by some sniveling savage heathen who demands to hold collar over some barbaric form of honor." He closed the distance and snarled down at her. "Do not presume to hold title over me, Slayer. I will hold my oaths to keep you, protect you, and eventually kill you. But know that I will never be yours to hold. My life is my own." He took a step back, shaking his own head at her. "But none of it matters." He said softly, looking away from her. "I'm leaving."

She scoffed. "I'll be here when you get back." She bit, crossing her arms.

"The Inquisition." He clarified.

He watched as ten different emotions crossed her face in the two longest and quietest seconds of his life. What was anger, melted into confusion, then concern, pity, understanding, concern again, skepticism, until finally, she smirked. "No, you're not"

Cullen jeered at her as she passed him to his desk. "Don't presume to know me or my actions."

She stopped. She pulled the knife from his desk and placed it back in her boot. She turned and canted a hip as she looked at him. "Where will you go, eh? You have no money. No home. No holdings. Nothing that is your own." She took a step closer to reach him. "What will you do, walk across the field?" She asked with a dark smile as she lifted the fabric of his cloak to show the skirts of the Templars. Cullen slapped the fabric out of her hands and the idea that he would join the Red Templars. He moved around her to get away from her. "Face it," she said to his back, "your Chantry is destroyed. Those who could help you are too busy squabbling for power and those that want to, don't have the authority. You're trapped here. With me. At least there are healers here." She jutted her chin to the surgeon camp below them but kept her eye on him. "Further, I forbid you to abandon your post."

He looked at her like she grew a second head. "You what?"

She looked at him with what could be considered innocent eyes to outsiders. "I forbid you to abandon your post." Cullen was stunned into physical confusion at her statement. "If you will not release me from my oath, I must hold you to yours. That said, you will be kept in a place where I can monitor you to ensure you hold your end of the bargain. Your life is credited to my hand alone and I will not have my victory taken from me by some Deadric damned rock the next time you fall down. And because it apparently bears repeating, I am your wife. Where you go, I go. You will not run as your actions reflect on me. I signed a contract. If you run, they will question what I will do." She made a disgusted face. "Your men will watch me, waiting for me to run after you like some pining woman, eager to be reunited with her love." She growled at the idea and crossed her arms. Cullen must have made a face as she looked him up and down. "Whatever this is" she vaguely waved a hand at his chest, "it needs to be dealt with. I will not have you beaten before you even enter the ring." She lifted and hand to his head. Cullen pulled away from her only for her to snarl. She tried again and he pulled away, running his backside into his desk. She smirked, as he placed a hand on his pommel. She gently touched the side of his head and he flinched. He realized that he had hit his head when he fell from the seizure. He looked at her hand and felt the magic being pulled. Healing. She was trying to heal him. He loosened his hand on his sword.

Uthreida stepped between one of his legs, healing a wound on his head. He looked away and let her work. He noticed that she didn't pull as much magic from the fade as most healers did. Where most magic smelt and felt like the brewing of a lightning storm, hers was different. Like a summer rain. Her magic was softer than Theodasian magic and was willing to chop it up to her land's methods of using the sun. It didn't help that she smelled lightly of thistle, snow, and sweet body odor from her travels. He also noticed that as she moved, her armor doesn't groan or click. He found himself looking at it. Studying it.

Her pauldrons had hardened leather to strap to her gorget, but where they met had padded leather to silence her armor. Her tassets had the same padding on the inside so it wouldn't clink against her thighs when she moved. Her buckles only had the one tooth and no metal endings to silence them. Her armor was retrofitted specifically for her stealth training. He touched one of her straps on her side. She stopped healing for a moment to see what he was doing but resumed. The leather belting was thick and held a texture he had never seen before. This wasn't common cattle or even bear. It was thicker. Harder.

When she finished, she arched a brow at him. Their eyes meeting for a moment in silent conversation. She brought a hand to his chest. He followed her hand and saw that she held the left strap of his gorget to his breastplate. She thumbed the buckle in annoyance, her eyes going further down. Her fingers trailing the belting until she got to his coat. Her eyes taking in his midsection as if imagining how his armor was put together and how it looked under the fabric. Her eyes flicked to the hooks on his gorget and she pursed her lips again. She ran a finger over the tip and sniffed. She placed a hand on his shoulder. Then lifted. She smiled as she watched the fur rise and fall over his Paldrons. He fought the urge to smirk as she played with his mantle. Discovering how much was lifted due to the points in the pauldrons and how much was flush with the plate.

"What?" He asked, ready for her to make fun of his armor. Again. She held her hands up and took a step back. He noticed that she was only able to stop the bleeding and not heal the wound. He looked at his glove then her. Her magic was weaker than the others.

She looked at him with her hands on her hips. "It's the best I can do. Now that you're awake, I can go get a proper healer." He felt himself smile at her. She cared. About him. "If you want one." She stated off-hand, looking away from him and not meeting his gaze.

He felt the annoyance of her dissipate as he watched her stand there uncomfortable. Watched as her own anger seemed to leave her now their argument was over and she was able to do something to help him. She had claimed him. Seems to care for him, physically and for his reputation. Even if it meant caring for her own. "Would you like a cup of tea?" He found himself asking with a smile.

He watched her be thrown by the question. "Sure?" She lowered her brows at him as he stood slowly.

He walked to the kettle, using the back of his hand to feel the heat of it. He opened the small box of dried rosemary, sage, and lavender. He placed the leaves into the kettle and let it seep. Uthreida stood next to him, watching him work in silence. "It takes about five minutes."

"What did you add? I saw the lavender and elf ear, what was the last one."

He arched a brow. "Elf ear?" She pointed to the sage leaf. Cullen smirked. "Sage, dear. Sage." She repeated it to herself to remember but still looked at him. He handed her a small branch of rosemary for her inspection. "Rosemary."

She pinched off a leaf and placed it on her tongue. She chewed slowly then nodded. "Rosemary."

He smiled at her. It was like teaching a child new things about the world. If a child could kill you. "Both can make a tea for headaches." She nodded slowly as she looked at the black iron kettle. The silence was killing him as he could smell his tea and her thistle. "Did you find what you were looking for?" She looked at him slightly confused. "In the mountains?"

"Aye," she said with a deep breath, but not looking at him.

"What did you find?" He tried to tease her out of her shell.

"Answers."

"To."

"Questions."

Cullen grit his teeth at her constant deflection. "That are?"

"Vast and varied." She finished with a charming smile. Cullen only grunted. She looked away, a more serene smile lit her face. "I feel, lighter," she said slowly. "Like," she sighed to herself. "I'm honestly not as angered as I was before. From what I know now, I feel, free. Er. In a way." She looked at him quickly then back at the kettle. "That's why I was scared."

He smirked at her confession. "I thought you were disappointed?" He hinted, keeping his voice low with hers so the walls couldn't hear.

"It's, it's both." She stated with a frustrated shrug. She sighed. Crossing her arms at him that he only smiled at.

Cullen tilted his head at her. "It's darling that you care, by the way."

She heckled her shoulders, turned her face to hide from him, scowling at his tease. "You're my husband." She said as if it explained the situation. "But I'm not your nurse." She stated with renewed vigor, even as he noticed the scar on her cheek was deep pink. "Is it done yet?" She asked the kettle.

"Few more minutes." They stood in silence as they waited on the tea.

"Can I ask?" She said quietly.

His good mood dissipated quickly. He wanted to tell her. She deserves to know. But he bit it back. He didn't want her to worry about him. He didn't want her to see him as weak like she already did. "No."

"Does it happen often?"

"No."

"But you know what it is."

Cullen took a deep breath. She's perceptive when she wants to be. "Yes."

Uthreida took a deep breath at him. He wondered if she saw the chasms as clearly as he did. "You know I can find out right? I could just-"

"I would prefer if you didn't," he had almost casually forgotten that she could rip the truth from his throat without consent. The thought of her finding out sent a shiver down his back. He found himself rolling his shoulders to stand straighter and huff out his chest. She didn't need to know. About any of it. He looked down at her quickly to see her still crossed armed at him.

She took a breath, closing her eyes. "You're acting like a child." She shook her head. "But I will respect your decision." She sniffed at something. "It's said that Reman suffered from the same affliction. And arguments could be made he was a good Emperor. So," she shrugged. "Maybe it is nothing to worry about."

He arched a brow but looked at the kettle again. "Do you think" he said distantly, but when she looked at him, Cullen lost his nerve. She cared. She deserves to know. She was his wife. But She, according to her, held his life. Is it not his place to tell her? But, what secrets is she keeping? And is he ready to hear them? He looked at her, her black armor standing in stark contrast to her red hair and pale skin with mild windburn, contrasted against her thick kohl eyeliner, and ice blue eyes. Her scar drew his eye down to her thick lips formed in an awkward smile when he didn't speak.

He felt the heat rise in his stomach as he looked at her. No, not his stomach. He took a deep breath as his heart felt like it was being squeezed. He grabbed his chest and looked at the door.

Cassandra slammed open the door and Cullen felt his knees give. Uthreida quickly grabbed him under his arms to keep him on his feet. She crouched, placing his arm over her shoulder as she moved him to his desk.

He saw the quiet fury in Cassandra as she watched them.

No, not them. Her.

Uthreida placed him on the corner of the desk but kept his arm over her shoulder. She looked at Cassandra, then at Cullen.

"Did you do this?" Cassandra jutted a thumb over her shoulder. Behind her, stood an officer who looked scared that he would anger someone. And his face was heavily bruised. Both his eyes had the tale signs that his nose was broken. The Lieutenant was some noble sons from Fereldan. Someone he couldn't touch because Josephine said not to. That was the officer that called his wife a whore. Cullen moved to get to his feet. Fire rearing in his stomach to behests the Lieutenant and put him in his place.

Uthreida placed a hand to his chest, keeping him sitting. Her face was neutral as she looked the two over. Though she didn't confirm or deny, she watched Cassandra to see what the seeker would do. "You beat an officer?" Cassandra said.

Cullen opened his mouth to argue, but she moved her hand to his jaw and throat to keep him silent. "Did I now? That does sound like me. He must've lost control of his tongue for a moment. Did you say something disrespectful, boy?"

"Lieutenant."

"Boy," Uthreida tilted her head around Cassandra to see the officer and Cullen looked at the two in the door with a scowl. "What happened to your face there? Did you break up a brawl at the ale hall? Good on you."

"He said-" Cassandra started but Uthreida interrupted.

"Oh, aye. And what do you say now, boy?" Cullen felt her gently pull him to stand. Cullen stood, his eyes boring holes into the officer. He would see him beaten for the next week by his own hand. But Uthreida was giving him an out. As far as that officer knew, Cullen had no idea what happened except for what his wife had said. Cullen let her beat him as she was the offended party. Uthreida took a small step from him to let the Lieutenant see them. But the Lieutenant needed to see the solidarity between them. Cullen placed his hand over her hip as they looked the officer down.

Cassandra turned to see the officer looking at his feet. "Tavern fight, Lady Seeker. It happened at the tavern."

"What a fine lad," Uthreida stated with a smirk. "That's the sort of peacekeeping the Inquisition can be proud of. Wouldn't you agree, Commander?" She placed her arm behind his. He could feel the pressure of her hand against the plate in his lower back.

The Lieutenant looked at Cullen and he felt the indignation simmer in his chest. "I'm going to overlook the fact you were in the tavern during duty hours as your presence seemed to quell a fight as I assume you were there to speak to the off-duty Lieutenants to fill shortages in your rosters?"

"Yes, commander." The Lieutenant bowed his head quickly.

"Carry on."

The group watched as the Soldier gave a salute and scurried off down the ramparts.

Uthreida was the first to break as she leaned forward to laugh quietly. "Nice touch." She added, patting his hand on her hip.

Cullen released her and sat back down on the desk. He looked to Cassandra who had a sculpted brow arched at the two of them. "Glad to see you two are getting along," Cullen smirked at the comment but looked away from her less she should be right. Cassandra walked into the office, her eyes set on something. With a gloved hand, she tilted his jaw to move his head forcefully. He could see Uthreida take a step back. Cassandra looked over his temple with calculated eyes. "What happened?" When the room was silent, Cassandra looked at Uthreida. "What happened?"

The slayer puffed her cheeks, looking to Cullen. "I had a seizure," Cullen stated for her. But Cassandra kept her eyes on Uthreida. A look of scrutiny crossed her features as she took in the slayer. Uthreida lowered her brows in confusion at the Seeker.

"Does she know?" Cassandra asked, but her eyes stayed on Uthreida.

Cullen looked between the women but shook his head. "No."

Cassandra's eyes turned to him now. He didn't meet her gaze. "I assume you have learned of Templars, Lady Uthreida."

Cullen stood. "Cassandra." He warned, but she waved it off. Cullen looked at Uthreida who tilted her head to the Seeker. Her once look of playfulness now turned hungry for information. "Don't."

"It's becoming apparent that-"

"It doesn't matter because-"

"She took advantage of the situation." Cullen looked at Cassandra who kept a level head during this. She was right. Maker. He knew she was right. He felt the fight leave him as he looked away. Uthreida was going to find out one way or another.

Cassandra's dark eyes went back to Uthreida who arched a brow at the duo. "When you asked to leave to go on your hunt, how was the Commander's state?"

Uthreida's eyes shifted between the two as if reading something that only she could see. She took a breath and stood up straighter. "Four days ago when I requested time off to hunt to reconnect with my Gods, Commander Cullen seemed distracted but alert. He was engrossed in his notes and books to cross-reference something. I didn't want to intrude and requested time. He made a quick note and I saw myself out."

Cullen didn't remember any of that. Cassandra arched a brow. "You know that as an asset, the Commander would see you protected. Did it not strike you as odd that he let you hunt alone?"

"No." She stated defiantly. "As a fellow hunter, he is also aware that a large group would scare the prey. As I was hunting medium game, I was in no immediate danger."

"You could've been kidnapped and turned over to our enemy."

Uthreida scoffed. "In truth, I was pursued by Avvar hunters." Cullen looked at her with new wider eyes. She never said that. "They were dispatched quickly."

Cassandra took a step back. "All the more reason. These-"

Cullen placed a hand on her shoulder. "Avvar trailed you?"

"They did."

"Are you-" he paused, looking her over. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She said with a smile. But he could see a slight sadness in her eyes. The smile not quite reaching.

"What happened?" Cassandra's voice cut through.

Uthreida removed her smile for the seeker. "We talked it out."

"You," Cassandra said with a skeptical look, "talked it out."

Uthreida gave a humorless laugh. "Aye. One barbarian grunt to another."

Cassandra huffed. "You are aware that Commander Cullen has agreed to marriage to prevent such a thing from happening."

Cullen dared a warning look to Cassandra. He knew she was looking out for him. But she's starting to cross lines.

"I'm aware as were they. It's because of the matrimony that I was able to return back to the hold."

Cassandra lowered her brow but nodded. "What do you know of Templars?"

Cullen grabbed her arm. "Cass. Stop this." He hissed. "She doesn't know. Leave it be."

Cassandra looked him over with dark eyes. "You haven't told her?"

Cullen couldn't give the excuse of 'it hasn't come up yet,' instead, he only sighed. He shook his head slowly. "Don't." He said around the hard swallow of saliva.

She arched a brow at him, her eyes going to the wound on his temple. Cassandra looked between the two of them. "She deserves to know."

He nodded with a heavy sigh. "On my own."

She kept her cooled expression as she looked at him. "Now."

Cullen looked away. He didn't want an audience. "That's unfair."

"Commander Cullen-"

"Don't start with me."

Cassandra's eyes went to his hand that was holding her. And Cullen realized he held her tighter. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest and pulled his hand off of her quickly as she burned out the lyrium in his blood.

Uthreida watched the two with passing fascination. Cullen noticed she wasn't affected by Cassandras Seeker's abilities. All who had ingested lyrium should be affected, but she wasn't. How is that possible? How has she never ingested lyrium before?

Cullen felt himself breathe again and stood taller when Cassandra relented. "Have you ever taken lyrium before?" Cullen looked at her quickly. She saw it too.

Uthreida arched a brow but placed her hands on her hips. "I don't know what that is."

"A lyrium potion," Cassandra stated.

"Saying it twice doesn't help."

Cassandra grunted. "A potion used to help increase magic pulled from the fade."

Uthreida looked away. "A magika potion? Aye."

"I suppose." Cassandra started, crossing her arms.

"I've had a few, though I've had little use for them."

Cassandra's eyes narrowed as she looked at the slayer. "How do you make such potions?"

Cullen watched as Uthreida dropped a shoulder in defense. "I'm sure what you use works just fine."

"That's not what I asked"

Uthreida opened her mouth to speak but lowered her brows in thought. She turned to see the tea kettle behind her. She looked at Cullen for a moment, her eyes moved in the distance as she was still thinking about something. Without a word, she moved to exit. Cassandra moved to block her. Uthreida looked her over and sighed. "I'm not deviating from my path. I can either go around or I can go through you. Choose." Uthreida stated with a tone of exhaust. Cassandra arched a brow. "He can keep his secrets. Are we done?"

Cassandra looked at Cullen who felt his heart shrink in his chest. Pleading at Cassandra with eyes not to speak. But slowly shook his head to warn her to move. Cassandra took a step aside. "This isn't over." Uthreida didn't speak as she passed and exited out the south door.

Cassandra looked at him with a glair. Cullen smirked awkwardly. "Tea?"

Cassandra groaned as he strode from his desk. "Cullen." Her tone tired as he turned his back to her. "Why haven't you told her?"

"Because she doesn't need to know," Cullen stated bluntly. He drew out two cups and poured the liquid into both. Watching the dark liquid fill the cups before turning to Cassandra. She lifted a hand to forego the tea. He placed it back on the cabinet and strode to her, sipping the warming, bitter drink that he's drank since this nightmare began.

Cassandra leaned against the desk with him. Her arms crossed as she looked around his office. "Commander, I" she sighed again. "Why?"

Cullen ran a hand through his hair, wincing at the wound. "She's" he sighed. "She fears a war between our people. If she learns about lyrium withdrawals and Templars, the chantry, the lyrium trade is the backbone of Tevinter and most of the south. She could devastate the national economies of Thedas. If she learns how dangerous it is, she could recreate the battle of 3:86 where Tevinters forced their prisoners to drink lyrium and drove them mad."

"Cullen" Cassandra looked at her with annoyance as if he was avoiding the issue.

"If she learns that I'm suffering from lyrium withdrawals, she'll use it as an opportunity to keep manipulating me. I can't show any weakness to her."

She side glanced at him with an arched brow. "Weakness?"

He took a breath. He knew what her tone implied as she's been saying it over and over as if it was to come true. 'Fighting your training is not weakness. Becoming better than you were is not a weakness. Steady on.' He could practically repeat her mantras of affirmation by heart at this point. But there were times. Times where her brows furrowed just a little too deep. Times when her voice doesn't hit the level of confidence she carries. Times where he questions her beliefs. And while a trusted friend, he still felt like he was the test subject that she would write about for future generations if he failed or succeeded in this gauntlet.

"Commander, I have watched you for the last seven months. You are not weak. And the symptoms do not make you weak. Your perception of weakness is-"

"Is what is driving the ideals of weakness that is tempering your resolve. Blessed are the peacekeepers. Champions of the just. Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter." He finished for her. "I know. I know."

Cassandra pursed her lips at him. "Your resolve is waning, Commander." She remained silent in thought as he sipped his drink. "Knowing now what she should be expecting, will you tell her?"

"In time." He said, letting the warmth of the tin cup warm his hands.

"Before or after you intend to leave the Inquisition?"

She waived the question like it wasn't a double-hefted weapon. He looked at the red carpet and saw the anger and fear in Uthreida's eyes when she felt he couldn't keep his oath. The panic when she didn't understand why he seized. Her superiority when she forbade him to leave. The bite at her statement. How she concluded that he had nowhere to go, like her. "Let's say I do leave." He said to Cassandra and not the listening walls. He leaned closer to make it private. "Where can I go that would help me get through this?" He looked into Cassandra's dark eyes but kept her face forward. "After Kinloch, I went to Green Hill Chantry to recover. But now with...everything." He gave a hard sigh. "What's available? Where can I go to get the help I need?"

Cassandra didn't look at him, only used her gloved hand to pick off the lent from her trousers. "I don't know." She set her jaw and crossed her arms. "Normally, I would've invited you to the Seekers tower for monitoring. But I stand by my decision. You belong here. Engaged. Useful. Needed." Her tone was empathic and full of as many questions that he had. She looked him over, even as he looked away.

Useful? Royoc only issues the forces to gather herbs and leather from the field. Needed? By whom? The other Templars who watch him and see him falter daily?

"You should tell her," Cassandra said softly, easing the conversation.

Cullen chuffed at the idea. "Of course. Let's tell the feared dragon slayer that I can barely sleep at night. That I sometimes hear demons of my memory haunting me in the silence of the day. That I have headaches and migraines that make me want to get a hammer to my own head to relieve the pressure. That I'm not eating, overstressed, and underutilized. I'm sure that'll go well." He shook his head, gripping the cup with a tighter fist. He could already see her, throwing her head back, laughing, calling him weak, and then ripping out this throat, then killing off the entire hold. Destroying Thedas in the process. Swell plan.

"She respects you, Commander." Cullen shook his head but drank his tea to remain silent. "That is the hardest part of working with dragon hunters. They only respect their own kind. For her to respect you, to see you as an equal, is the highest honor one receives from them."

"I don't want her respect, I want her obedience." He retorted and knew it was a lie.

Cassandra looked at him comically with a smirk. "Good luck. Even Nevarran Kings had to deal with what you do daily from the dragon hunters. And most of them were family." She shook her head. "You are in a unique situation, Cullen. Dragon hunters value prestige and power above all else. They expect it from their spouses as well. If she openly proclaims you as her husband, I imagine she would do anything to raise you up."

"Or put me down." Cullen let his heart rate slow as he considered her words. Uthreida did seem ashamed that she had chosen him. If she saw him as weak, would she help him become stronger? She said he would not see him beaten before their honored suicide. He lowered his brows. "You might know something about this. One of our marriage vows is that we are to kill one another after Corypheus is defeated." Cassandra shot him a worried look. "With her pride and honor as a dragon hunter, would she allow, that is, with the symptoms, do you think I have a chance?"

"No." Cullen rolled his eyes at the quick response. "But," she said with a breath, "that is a conversation for you two. Not I. I won't presume to know her as well as you do. She has skills and ferocity, but you have the tactics and experience that she can't defend."

Cullen arched a brow. Neither of them knew the full power of the other. It was in the air at this point. The more time they spend together, the closer the fight might become. The only method now is to use the weakness of the other.

His mind quickly flashed to them, standing in the sparring ring, each in full armor, weapon in one hand, and a bottle of the others chosen poison in the other. Taunting. Laughing. Dying. With her smile covered in blood.

He looked away. He supposed that he did hold a secret of hers. She had the ability to control people, or so she alluded to. To make them speak and calm them. She called it a secret even though she used it as a means of leverage against him. Did he truly owe her a secret or what will become common knowledge soon? If it does become common knowledge, did he truly owe it to her to tell her?

He set his drink on the desktop and rubbed his face, pushing his eyes back. "I don't know anymore."

"About what?"

"I don't know."

She chuckled softly but went back to a serious demeanor. "I have received your list of recommendations for replacements." Cullen looked at her, eager to see if she had changed her mind. "I know you want Knight-Captain Rylen, but he is not suited. Not yet. He's only been a captain for two years and may not be ready for the magnitude of the role. Even then, it is expected that he would squire under a commander during that time. With him being a field commander, I do not believe he will have the required tootling to lead." Cullen grunted. Rylen was the most experienced that wasn't at Kirkwall thus, could help the mages with open eyes. "As it stands, the other nominations you have made fall even lower on the listing. And if I'm honest, I do not trust Knight-Captain Amariline."

Cullen arched a brow. "Why?"

Cassandra shook her head. "Instinct."

"She hasn't done anything."

"I know that." She said as if it stopped the conversation. "Will you remain until a better replacement can be found? To allow a time to transition for the soldiers?"

Cullen looked at his boots, rubbing his thighs and feeling the pain in his neck. "Provided it doesn't become ignoring the issue. I will endure. No need to create a power vacuum in the Inquisition."

"Thank you."

Cullen nodded. His wife was right. He had nowhere to go and no one to replace him. He took a deep breath, letting it out through puffed cheeks.

The south door opened and Cullen realized he's been holding off on his duties long enough. He looked up to see Uthreida had returned but carried a small ceramic pot with her. She waved two fingers at him to follow her to his tea set. He looked at Cassandra to see if she saw it, but she only watched the woman with a netural look. Cullen stayed seated on the desk.

Uthreida rolled her eyes and walked to him instead. Annoyed with her pot. "Forgive me, I was reminded of a thing." She said to Cassandra who smirked. "So, your tea is useless." She said, pointing at his cup. Cullen lowered his brows at her and gave her a look like she didn't know what she was talking about. "Elves ear is used to-"

"Sage, Uthreida, sage." Cullen corrected with a sigh. "No need to sound racist."

"Right, sage. Sage has magical restorative properties where lavender has magical destructive properties. Having those two in the same potion is actually canceling each other out. So, all your receiving is the properties from the, Uh" she rubbed her fingers together while scrunching her face in thought.

"Rosemary." Cullen helped.

"Aye. Rosemary. While I'm not an alchemist, I would suggest removing the lavender and replacing it with honey." She tapped the jar she placed on his desk. "Honey has stamina regenerative properties. When combined with the rosemary and elv-sage," Cullen winked at her save, "it could be used as a weakened temporary 'all heal' as each contains healing properties from the three nexus."

Cullen arched a brow at whatever she just said and nodded. "Alright."

She pursed her lips as she saw he didn't understand. "Remove lavender and add honey. Once. For fun. Let's see what happens."

Cullen looked at the jar. "Did you poison it?" He asked, half-serious. Mostly serious.

She tilted her head at him, her lids dropping at his accusation. "You will see me kill you, Cullen." She lifted the lid and poured the honey from the spoon onto her tongue. She looked at him in victory, then her look turned sour. Cullen felt himself sit up straighter with a smile, watching her fan a hand as she forced herself to swallow the concoction.

"Problem?" He asked with a smile. Cassandra slapped his arm to play nice.

She sucked her tongue, looking at the pot. "Why is it so sweet?" She sucked her tongue again to get the taste off. She took a drink from his cup to wash it out and handed it back to him, empty. Cullen looked at the cup annoyed with his nose wrinkled, then flicked his hand to the other full cup, not six steps from her. She made a look of disgust, not registering his annoyance causing him to roll his eyes with his now empty cup. "How you people manage to destroy honey is beyond me. It should be fine, but" she made a disgusted sound, "you need fresh honeycomb. Anyways." She popped her knuckles and stepped close to him. "Last round" Cullen leaned back. She arched a brow and called forth healing magic to her hands before touching him. Cullen took a breath and sat upright, letting her work. He took a calming breath as she stood beside him rather than in front of him as she worked.

"Oh," he said quickly, remembering the phrase he forgot about her magic. "You pull ambient magic, right? Not from the fade?"

"Aye," she said slowly, not wanting to lose her concentration. "Dorian makes fun of me about redirection of ambient or something." Cullen felt his head wound start to mend the flesh and felt the odd sensation of itching.

"But you don't pull from the Fade?"

"For personal reasons."

"Which are?"

"I'm trying to concentrate."

Cullen smirked, guessing she was at a limit soon. He sat quietly and let her work.

When she stepped back, he ran a hand over the wound. It was still tender, but not open like it was. "Might scar, might not. We'll see." She threw an indifferent hand up and shrugged. She crossed her arms as she looked at the two warriors. "If there are no more questions" she looked at them, specifically Cassandra.

"Why don't you pull magic from the fade? You'd have more to work with. "Cullen asked with a contemptuous smirk.

"I will not bend knee to the Princes in exchange for power when my own is evident." She met his smirk with her own dominating smile. "Any more?"

"What prince?" Cassandra asked.

Uthreida gave a guiled grin but didn't say anything. Cullen arched a brow. "Uthreida." He warned.

She shrugged. "You've never heard of them. And be thankful for that. Back home, we only use the ambient magic from Aetherius. The method your mages use is quickly becoming highly frowned upon. Breaking the vail to tap into Oblivion-based magic is grounds for beheading by the Vigilantes."

"Vigilantes?"

"Of Stendarr. They're our version of Templars. Though, not formally recognized by Cryodiil. Anything else?"

"Oblivion magic?" Cassandra asked with crossed arms.

"Aye," Uthreida stated. Cassandra rolled her hand to speak, but she didn't. "To call them is to invite them. I will not speak of them. Not with the vail so thin." She eyed the office quickly then looked at the warriors.

Cassandra sighed. "Is she always like this?"

Cullen found himself chuckling. "Yes. Athah, Atheri-"

"Aetherius." She corrected. "It's the divine energies released into Mundas through Magnus."

"Mundas?"

"The universe."

"Magnus?"

"The sun."

"So," Cullen tried. "Universal energies are released into the universe by the sun?"

Uthreida rolled her eyes back and gave a long exhale of his gross misunderstanding. "Look, I got to go clean an elk and neither of us have the time nor paint colors to give it a proper explanation."

Cassandra chuckled at the woman's response to the Commander. "Last one. You can lift an elk, but you can't lift me?"

She smiled. "Well, it was field stripped and quartered. Why? Was that an option?" She canted her head at his playfulness.

Cullen tried to hide his smile as best he could. "Carry on." He said as he looked away from her.

Uthreida nodded to Cassandra but gave a dramatics bow and salute to Cullen, rolling his title with her own flair. His stomach seized again at the purr. He looked away from her.

As she passed him, Uthreida ruffled his hair, making sure she hit the temple she just healed causing pain to shoot across his skull and leave him stunned at her physical contact. "Why?" He whined. Her stupid grin of victory was all she offered as she left his office.

Cullen groaned, grabbing his head to stop the spread of pain. When the door closed behind her, he could feel the heated look of Cassandra. He looked over to see her smiling. "Don't."

"You're cute together." She teased in her usual tone. Cullen gave his own disgusted sound.