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.

8. Chapter 8

A/N: let me go ahead and get this out of the way. I'm so sorry. This is a lot of world-building and info-dumping and…it's the best I got. I'm so sorry.

Owners own stuff, not me.

---

She arched an annoyed brow with her lips pursed. Uthreida leaned against the flagstone walls as she watched the soldiers in the sparring rings. She was in full armor and noticed that she didn't have anyone to spar with that morning. Blackwall was her usual partner, but with the awkwardness between them, he started sparring with Cassandra. Leaving her without a partner. Leaning against the wall, she watched the soldiers. Feeling her shoulders tighten as they went through drills. Njada Stone-Arm would be screaming at them if she saw this. The absolute lunacy.

They were using mostly their weapons to block incoming attacks. Her jaw tightened. They were damaging their own weapons to deflect. They'll dull the edge, nick, or even break their weapons if they kept this up. None of them used their shields to hold or block. Or even ram with the boss. While not the strongest in block technique, these soldiers made her question if the Inquisition was more for sheer numbers than actual prowess.

Her eyes shifted to the shields. Wrapped in metal to protect the shield, not the man. It's obvious where the priority was. If these were the training shields, they were being poorly trained. Hopefully, the added weight would create a means of muscle resilience. To strengthen the soldiers before being issued 'field' shields. Skyrim shields were wrapped in leather or thick linen to trap a sword as it came arching down. Thus, eliminating the opponent's weapon. It weakened the shield but allowed the opportunity of attack required for battle.

A real battle.

They didn't use the shield to deflect the incoming strikes to make an opening for their attacks. Which was the point.

She clenched her jaw again when a soldier did properly deflect with his shield but took too long to gloat in his victory allowing the other to slam the edge into their helmet, pushing the first back. The two ran at each other. Locking shields. She took a deep breath as they shoved rather than go around the lip of the other shield. Neither tried to offset the tenderness the other held on the shield. Finally. The two soldiers relented and went through the drill again.

She took a calming breath. These soldiers are going to die. She almost shivered at the idea of what their formation of a shield wall would even look like. She took another breath. Maybe these are recruits and don't know any better and needed more training. She arched a brow. If she feared a war with Thedas, she apparently needn't have bothered.

Her eyes shifted to the mages that stood on the battlements. They didn't train. They didn't know how to wield weapons. Thedas didn't have spell swords or battlemages. Mages were kept locked away. Weak. Useless. She smirked. A blood bath would rage if Thedas so much as thought of invading Cyrodill or even the Summer Set Isles. Their fear of magic could be their undoing. Oh, Thedas will take Skyrim, no doubts, but their army will be decimated before they cross any of her borders. She doubted they would have anywhere to run when they reach Winterhold.

She watched the soldiers again. The more experienced ones were working on their grips and stances. Though she could see the flaws in their stances. They held their weight on the front leg like a wall but lacked the fluidity when they had to strike to pull their weight with it.

"Lift your shield!" The Commander bellowed from his position, watching a different group of recruits. Her eyes moved to see who he was talking to. The group was in a combat formation. They held their shield like they knew what they were doing, but bad habits from the novice ring carried forward with their training.

Vilkas would've slapped each person in the back of the head by now. Twice for good measure. He would've strapped rocks to the shield to prove a point and build muscle resilience. She could feel her shoulders ache at the memory.

"Lost your partner, I see." Dorian flew himself into the wall next to her, eating the remnants of a sweet bun from the kitchens.

She smirked at the mage. Somehow, keeping the sweet candied toppings from getting into his mustache. "Something like that"

She looked away, watching the soldiers again. She could feel his chocolate eyes on her as she leaned with crossed arms. He made a sound around the roll in his throat. Licking his fingers, he bent slightly towards her. "Do I detect more to the story then?" She met his eyes with a smirk as he sucked another fingertip. She took a breath, letting the defamed story be told without words. He hmmed and stood straighter on the walls. "Well, can't say that I blame you. Or him." He stated off-handed. She shot him an offended look to see his eyes alight with tease making her smile. "I was having difficulty seeing you with so much man. And the hair. Ugh."

She chuckled. "Well, we are in the mountains. Maybe I need a wee bit of something to keep me warm at night, eh?" She winked causing him to arch a brow in mirth.

"Either way, I'm...sorry...for your loss?" He stated cautiously.

Uthreida gave a shrug, not feeling the knife like she did the first day. "Nothing gained, nothing earned." He hmmed, crossed his arms over his chest. "To tell the truth, he reminded me of home."

"Him," Dorian flicked a wrist in Blackwall's general direction. His voice arched in disbelief. "You poor girl. They all look like that where you're from. The travesty."

She laughed at his observation. "Actually, most of the men look like," she let her eyes fall to the Commander. She looked at him to see if he caught her understanding. When he looked at her, he gave an appreciative nod. "Well, now I'm just torn if I want to go to...where are you from again?"

"Skyrim."

"Skyrim." He repeated, tilting his head at the Commander. "And they all look like him?" His eyes lit with excitement and imagination.

She took a breath to fight the urge to laugh. "Blue eyes are dominant there. If he has blue eyes" she tilted her chin to her 'loving husband' "I probably would punch him more often and accidentally called him Ulfric on more than one occasion."

"Someone you don't like, I take it?"

Uthreida threw her head back in a laugh. That wasn't even half of it. She sighed. "No." She looked over at him and smirked. "Good thing for you, as that look is quite common here too." He shot a quick look of confusion that she smiled at. "By Mara, even I can see how you pine for, what's the phrase, his most holy," she made a grandiose bow to the mage who quickly turned down his lips and wide eyes at her show.

"Stop that."

"My apologies," she said between her laughter. "I see we're not there yet. I'm sorry." Her smile still on her face as she looked at the taller man.

He made an indignant show of offense but didn't move. "I don't pine, dear lady."

"Of course. Poor choice of words on my part. You sit upon a throne and watch curiously as people approach the dais to speak to you. You know, like every other Imperial."

He arched a slow brow making her question if she got the interpretation right. "You got me there." He said with a smirk.

She smiled at the mage. "But forgive me. I did not mean to offend or intrude on your personal life. If my observations were incorrect, my deepest apologies." He made another sound of intrigue but ultimately remained silent. While she considered him friendly, it was obvious he kept people at arm's length. Their silence was awkward, but not uncomfortable. "How was your trip?"

"To Redcliff?" He gave a passive shrug. "I do so love the rustic south to all its little bits. The architectural statues of dogs as far as the eye can see. Lovely." She chuckled at his thick sarcastic tone. "It was," he said, in an upbeat tone, but his sigh was heavier than she was expecting. "It was." He said finally. When she looked at him, his mask had slipped as a sense of dread crossed his eyes. His smile at her was fake. She must have made a face because he dropped his eyes and looked at the soldiers again. "It was a long trip." He finally said.

The silence became thicker between them as she felt sympathetic to the mage who didn't want to talk of it. But she also wanted him to know she was there If he needed it. "Anything worth noting?"

He took a breath and smirked. "Watching Cole entertain children as he became a dog whisperer. That was certainly entertaining." She shot him a smirk but was distracted when Cullen roared another order to the men. "Hypothetically," Dorian stated as he watched the drills. But the words seem to catch in this throat. He sighed, as she looked at him, willing to let him speak. He looked away from her. She noticed his hands clenched under his arms. He heaved a sigh and tilted his head in the usual whimsical way that he does. "Let's say that someone tried to reach out to you for forgiveness. What would you do?"

Her eyes cut away as she was taken back to the few times that had happened and her different reactions each time. "What's the history?" He shrugged. "I need context, Dorian."

He waved a flagrant hand to come up with a scenario. "Oh, I don't know. Family, I guess. A father figure, if you would."

His brown eyes met hers and she looked away, clenching her jaw.

"You're not welcome here. Not like that." He spat, his hand flicking to her thieves armor.

"I'm not here for you, Da."

Uthreida felt her arms grow heavy at the memory. She took a deep breath and chewed her cheek in thought. "I would listen." She said softly. "I know what it's like to walk away. To say exactly what's in your heart and not give the opportunity to forgive. To regret the poison of hatred and pain." She looked at the soldiers, feeling the scar on her cheek prick in memory. "The deepest wounds come from those we trust most. And only blood can draw blood." The mage next to her remained silent, but his breathing was deeper. She side glanced, seeing the slight clench in his jaw as he looked over the soldiers as well. "Hypothetically, what would you do?"

"Walk away." He said low.

She nodded. Surmising that this conversation was less hypothetical than he allowed. "A father's love is often, jaded. They are expecting more than they have. Desire more than they were given. But that desire is not for themselves. Harsh lessons learned, and yet, unable to teach soft children in fear that they too will become jaded." She breathed, remembering her father's smile when she was younger turned angered scowls as she grew and made her choices. "They love in their own way. Even if it is in their own secluded ways."

Dorian softly scoffed. "You think so?"

She sighed, not knowing his history or his willingness to speak of it. "No rune is carved the same way twice," she said with a shrug. Dorian shot her an amused look. "Means no situation is the same." She looked away as the Commander barked orders to the men, his shoulders rising as his voice bellowed. "I hope some peace is found in this hypothetical situation."

The mage took a breath, looking over the field, and smirked. "Seeing as how you don't have a sparring partner, perhaps you should regal down for more academical aptitudes?"

She shot him a brow. "Are you offering?"

"I am."

She smirked and a thought crossed her mind. "Or, I can give you a blade."

The mage threw his head back in laughter. "No."

"What? Can't hold a weapon in one hand and wave spells with another? I'm shocked that the great and all-powerful Dorian of Tevinter, Serpent of the South, is incapable of the most mundane tasking of-"

"As delightful as this is," he interrupted with a smirk, "my specific talents are best suited in research and field experimentation. And occasionally raising a dead cat to hunt the mice in my room."

"Don't sell yourself short." She slapped a hand to his chest, letting the weight of her armor hit him and knock out some wind. "A roguish man like yourself, swashbuckling your way out of every situation, getting the gold and shrinking fear from blade and magic. You'd send these Templars running for sure"

He smirked at her antics. "If that's the kind of training you're looking for, might I suggest battling with Lady Vivienne who is a knight enchanter? Watching her throw you to the ground while insulting your shoes might be quite the show these men need. I know I would."

Uthreida smiled at the mage. "I will speak with her."

Dorian grew distracted but smirked at something from across the rings. Uthreida followed his line of sight and smiled like a predator at what she saw.

The Commander just entered a ring.

Finally, she can witness his technique that he's trying to instill. Finally, she can witness what made these Templars so feared. "I must go." She stated absently to the mage.

"Oh, I'm coming with." They pushed off the wall for a closer look. "Do you have any idea how long I waited for this?"

"Do you?" She smiled back with a slight growl in her tone.

The two made their way across the yard and stood close enough to hear but not enough to disrupt the Soldier's training.

"I cannot stress enough," Cullen called over the crowd. "When you hold the shield, it's it hold. Not hide," he emphasized, strapping a shield to his arm. "If used properly, you could deflect, throw, and counter-attacks. Obviously, you can't use this for every attack. Let your armor take the hit. That's why you're wearing it." He spun a training sword in his hand to heft the weight. Uthreida felt herself smirk. He noticed the faults too. Good.

He rolled his shoulders to the soldier and lifted his sword over his shield. The soldier looked concerned at first. Uthreida noticed the light shine off of their breastplate as they took a deep breath, and hefted their weapon to the Commander.

The yard was silent as the soldier took a cautious step forward. Cullen rolled his head at the soldier. "You're going to get hit. That's part of the engagement. If I am your enemy, you cannot show any hesitation. Now, attack me." The Soldier lifted his weapons and took a step forward. Cullen took two quick steps and shield bashed the Soldier back onto the ground. "Get up." The Soldier rolled onto their hands and knees and stood. Taking their time to replace the shield on their arm. Cullen didn't waste any time as he assaulted the Soldier with strike after strike, their swords ringing. The Soldier arched high but was met with the Commander's shield. He tilted it off and the loud "thwack" rang out when the Commander hit the breastplate. The Soldier staggered as Cullen rolled his sword keeping his joints loose for the battle. "Let your armor take the hit. Now, come at me." He took his defensive position with his sword over the shield. The Soldier was quicker to retrieve their shield. Uthreida noticed how Cullen held it. The leather straps were around his hand. A boss grip.

She smirked. He has full flexibility of the shield with respect to his wrist. And his footwork was impeccable. It's obvious that the Templars start young and drill often.

The Soldier held his shield too low and the Commander used his own shield to drive it lower as his sword moved to pierce above the shield. "Raise your shield" Cullen called. He kicked the lower shield back, forcing the soldier to take a step back and try again.

And again, Cullen was able to get his weapon above and over the shield.

The Soldier tried again, and Cullen sneered. Uthreida smirked when she noticed the shield was too high. Their swords clashed twice and Cullen lifted his shield to take the hit as his sword hit the Soldier in the unarmored leg, forcing him to kneel and cry out in pain. "Again."

The Soldier staggered to stand. Limping as he took a step back. He forced his weight on his front leg and Uthreida shook her head.

As expected, Cullen saw the opportunity and hit his other leg that was compensating.

"Well, this is rather boring," Dorian commented. "I was hoping he would dress down."

"I don't know," Uthreida said, her grin growing at each attack. "It's very informative." Watching Cullen, she could feel her blood pump. Watching his footwork, his shield technique. He kept it at his nose but far enough away where her axe couldn't get to him. He only left his front leg exposed when defending and looking at how the Soldier striked, his shield arm was very sensitive. But what she found intriguing, was how he grew taught before each strike. He was reading the soldier's movements before they even decided to attack.

His flaw, he hit armor. She didn't know if it was for the soldier's sake or if that's how he was trained. In a fight against her, he would undoubtedly wait for an overhead attack and strike at her armpit. If this is how he usually attacks, he's used to fighting unarmed people or the ferocity of his strikes to pushed them back and try again.

Also, the way he carried his shield. He canted it just slightly so it wasn't parallel to the ground. He's open to ankle hooks from her axe. She could use her sword high on his shield to distract him until he strikes, dodge, and use the beard of the axe to pull him down.

By Talos, he would be hard to kill in honorable combat. Shame she didn't believe in honorable combat.

"There you go. Again." Cullen shouted over the crowd that was slowly growing.

"I assume this means something to you?" Dorian asked with a smile in his voice. "Because you look absolutely frightening."

Cullen pushed the Soldier off his shield and smiled. "You don't stop when you get it right, you stop when you can't get it wrong. Again."

Uthreida didn't look at him as she watched the spectacle. She knew how she must look, chin tucked, smirking, and fierce eyes on her prize. But she didn't care.

Cullen used the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Now teach them." He lifted his sword to the men. "Teach them to hold their ground." He turned to the crowd and the other rings and shouted, "The more you sweat in the rings, the less you bleed in battle. Keep up the work."

She watched as he clasped hands with the soldier to help them recover with a smile. He turned and exited the ring. As he stood from the ropes, he saw her. The black armor standing in stark contrast to the yellow flagstone of Skyhold. Even as he took deep breaths from his bouts, sweat dripping down his face, she only smirked. He turned away casually, but the fists he made as he spoke to the other Officers told a greater story. He knew he messed up.

"You do know that right?"

Uthreida looked at Dorian who finally caught her attention. "Ha?"

Dorian gave a laugh then looked at her again. He shrugged. "Maybe it's for the best."

Uthreida stood straighter to him, seeing the other soldiers file into the ring for their lessons as well. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

There was a slight curl on his lip as he looked her over. "I said it's a shame. That southern templars are cut."

She looked away quickly in confusion. If they are the feared warriors of the Chantry, it's expected they would bare a few wounds. But looking at him, he meant something else. "What are you talking about?"

He sighed in remorse. "Templars. And their vows. And the price they make for them." Uthreida only shrugged slower, hoping he'd elaborate. "The way you were looking at him was like you were ready to eat him. But Templars make vows of Chasity. To ensure they maintain them and not consort with their wards, they are cut."

She shook her head. "Out with it."

"Their cut, Slayer. Root and stem. It's probably for the best. Couldn't have too many of them walking about."

She took a breath. "I still don't understand. What cut are you-"

With one arm over his chest and the other waving in the air, his brown eyes ran down her body and stopped at her juncture. She looked down at herself with an arched brow. What was he going on abo-

BY THE NINE!

He did not mean-

That is-

He's joking, right? Uthreida looked at Dorian who made a face of disappointment that it took that long to figure out what he was saying. She canted her head around the mage to see the fur of the Commander then looked at the mage again. "Are you serious?"

He took a breath and waved a hand. "I know, true shame, isn't it?"

Uthreida felt like she was grabbing at a concept that was just beyond her reach. "But, why?"

He gave a shrug. "Who's to say why these southerners do what they do. Though it would explain why there aren't too many Templars, wouldn't you agree?"

"I - I mean, aye, but" she made a sound like she had been punched. Her husband lacks the parts that made him a...husband...him? Nope, still a he. She made several sounds of frustration and confusion as she tried to work all of this out in her head. Why, under what circumstances, would he, or any man for that matter, sacrifice, willingly, his dick, for his god?

What sort of fucked up, ceremonial blot, of brainwashing bull shit would allow that? Sure, animals were sacrificed back in Atmora for the gods. Sure, human sacrifice is conducted for the Deadra but-

Oh

Oh no.

Kyne's breath. The Maker is Deadric.

Fuck, they worship a Deadric prince.

If the fade is quagmire, and quagmire is ruled by Vaermina, and mages pull from the fade-

No wait, Templars hate the Fade. They hate mages. And Vaermina's antithesis is Magnus. Ergo, Magnus is still the Maker. But why-

What?

Why?

Why is that an option?

Dorian patted her on the shoulder and left her with her trying to figure this out. "No, wait, come back, I have questions. So many questions. Dorian." He waved a hand over his shoulder and kept walking, though slightly bent over. "Dorian." She called again.

"Uthreida."

She gave a yelp at her name the familiar voice it was coming from. Cullen stood four feet from her with an amused expression as she held a hand over her heart.

Don't look at his dick. Don't look at his dick. Don't, for the love of the Divines, don't look at his dick.

Uthreida took a deep breath and focused everything on maintaining eye contact with the Commander. "Blessings, Commander?" She closed her eyes, turning her head from him so he wouldn't see the awkward smile that was spreading over her lips. She lifted her head and took a step closer so she wouldn't be tempted to drop her gaze.

His look of amusement turned into confusion. "Are you alright?"

She took a deep breath at the question. It's so kind that he can be empathic given his situation. The panic still in her chest as she looked at him. "Aye. I-I'm good. And you? You? Are-are you...okay?" She felt like her lungs were full of air and unable to breathe at the man before her. Waving her hands to his chest at the question only made him lift his chin to her. She bit back her lips in a sheepish, guilty, and concerned expression.

His eyes darted to Dorian for a moment before he looked at her again. She knew she looked both guilty and uncomfortable in his presence. She tried to smile but even she could feel how it pulled to one side and looked more plastered than real.

Cullen looked away. The lines on his face deepened as he sighed. "We need to talk." He said quietly. But he turned and headed up the stairs to the ramparts.

Uthreida took another breath and followed him up the staircase. She kept her eyes everywhere but his backside and legs as they made their way up the stairs and into his office in silence. He had opened the door for her and she entered while keeping her eyes forward, biting her lips to make sure she didn't make a complete ass of herself by either looking, laughing, or asking inappropriate questions.

She stood on the red carpet in front of his desk waiting for further instructions, noticing little details of his office. Like the pile of sandbags, the pile of old and rotting wood in the corner, the fact that he had only candles to work by in the evenings and no hearth in his office to keep him warm. The owl statue that hung above his desk.

"A request has come down from Lady Josephine. Duke Jean-Gaspard is putting on a dragon hunt in Lydes. As we assured his position in the Duchy, he has invited the Inquisition to-"

Don't look at his dick

"I'm told that the event is to be the precursor to what you can expect to see at Halamshiral. This invitation would mean that the Inquisition would be"

Don't look at his dick and pay attention.

"So we would expect you to be on your best behavior. Whatever manners you can muster- where are you going?"

Uthreida walked out and gently shut the door behind her. She bent over laughing.

She laughed at herself. Her life. Her choices. And now, she can't stop thinking about it. She can't stop thinking about how this is the first time she had ever heard of such a ritual and now. NOW, she is married to a man that, while it's never crossed her mind before, the option isn't even on the table now.

Worse, she can't get the idea out of her head. She can't look at the man without thinking of a gash or a scar or... Looking.

Gods. Oh, gods above.

This is the weirdest-

Why-

This shouldn't change anything. Is this what Seeker Cassandra was referring to when she asked if Uthreida knew anything of the Templars?

She sighed. She took a deep breath as the door behind her opened. She didn't turn to see the Commander. She took another calming breath. She needed to handle this like a mature adult. Like a mature person who can look at someone and not imagine missing reproductive-

She laughed to herself like a child.

"What are you doing?" He asked tersely.

"My best." She laughed to herself. She dared a look over her shoulder to see him with a deep frown and that line between his brows. His arms crossed over his plate as he stared her down. She took a deep breath looking forward. She can't ask him. It's not her place. They keep each other at arm's length and she was willing to bet her whole pay that he won't answer that question.

"Slayer." He called again.

She ran a hand over her face. "I need a minute." He growled as she hid her face. She took another breath. Nothing has changed. Nothing has changed. He's still her husband and still the Commander of the Forces. She had no sexual desires or thoughts of the man, nothing has changed. And so, nothing will change.

Leave it.

He's the same stuck-up ass hole as he was an hour ago.

Leave it.

She turned to look at him and laughed again. Her husband. "Damnit, Mara." She screamed into the heavens with a laugh. "I said I was sorry. I paid my respects. Stop it" she laughed. "I'm sorry." She doubled over, laughing at the cruel gods and the position she's in. "Fucking wolves." She wiped her face again and looked at him.

He looked her over with cautious concern, pulling his body away from her. "Are you alright?"

"It's" she looked over the mountains with a shake of her head. "My life is fucking grand." She took a breath and smiled at him. "I'm sorry. I'm...so sorry. Shall we continue?" She waved a hand back into his office.

He arched a skeptical brow but stood aside to let her enter.

Uthreida stood back on the carpet with crossed arms and a ghost of a smile on her face as she watched him take his position again with his eyes never leaving her. "As I was saying. The dragon hunt will have nobles from the area who could officiate and vouch for your prowess in the field. It would allow you to garner a name in Orlais. I don't need to tell you that this could be a turning point in your career here in the Inquisition. I'll have a trusted guard journey with you, as well as some ambassadors, to Lydes as you engage in the hunt."

With a clear mind, she was able to hear what he was actually saying. "Is this dragon causing problems for the locals or the Inquisition?"

"No."

She remembered Odiviings look of betrayal as she explained her position. You would rather have morsels of information from the mortals than feast in tiinvak? She shook her head. "No."

He looked at her with one ear pointed at her to listen and lowered his brows. "No?"

"No."

He took a breath. "Uthreida, do I need to remind you that-"

"Do you really think this a good idea?"

He stood taller and rested his wrist on the pommel. "Yes." She chewed her lip in thought. "What are your concerns?" His tone exhausted.

She licked her lips to bite back her thoughts, but they needed to be stated. "When I slay a dragon, I absorb the soul. It's visual. If this hunt takes place with nobles, they'll ask questions that Lady Josephine will have to answer. And you know that I refuse to consciously lie. Also, my desire to not mingle with nobles is the exact reason why I joined the forces. Lastly, the dragon didn't do anything wrong. It's living, not bothering anyone. That dragon is choosing peace. And yet, you allow the nobles to disrupt balance for...sport? A dragon. So some noble can mount it on the wall and tell a story." She shook her head. "No."

He pursed his lips at her in annoyance. "Of course you choose now to save a dragon." He took a deep breath and looked away from her. He licked his lips. "You've already accepted the invitation." He stated quietly.

Uthreida felt her nose snarl a she looked at him. Even if he was the Commander, her Commander, he should've asked. "You used my name without my consent?"

He looked at her with an argument on his tongue but bit it back. "Yes"

She checked her tone as he did. "Why?"

He arched a hate-filled brow but looked away with a measured pause. "Two reasons." He said gently as he moved from the side of his desk to stand in front. "One, you belong to the Inquisition."

"I never gave-"

"Let me finish" his tone firm as he held up a hand to silence her. His eyes were hard, but there was a softness that stilled her tongue. She crossed her arms again and let him speak. "Secondly, when the missive came to me, I agreed as a wedding gift." He looked away. "A mocking gift, but nonetheless. As time moved forward, I lost track of time and... you leave tomorrow."

Uthreida grunted at the man. "Just, tell them something more important came up. That I can't attend because of-"

"It's too late for that. And it's obvious that you need to get out of Skyhold. You're growing board here. I can see it."

She shook her head and stepped back. "I won't kill a dragon that choses peace. I'd be more inclined to kill the nobles who think they can."

"I would request that you do not." He gave a pointed look. "I understand your values. And they are with merit." He paused, taking a deep, conflicted breath.

"I swear, by the Nine, if you say 'but'-"

Cullen looked at her with a clenched jaw. "It's a dragon." His eyes betraying himself as he couldn't hold her gaze.

Uthreida shook her head. He was willing to ask her to abandon her code for what? "What's the pot if I win?"

"Gold and prestige." A silence befell the two as they stood in the enclosed space. "While it is preferred that you slay the dragon, there are other avenues of approach."

Uthreida arched a brow at him. "I'm listening?"

He rubbed his neck in thought. "You could throw it." She gave a confused look at his phrasing. Throw the dragon? "You could not slay the dragon."

Uthreida rolled her eyes at the preposterous idea. "No, because then I become the dragon hunter who can't hunt. So much for prestige." She flicked an aggravated wrist at him.

"Well, considering it's a hunt for the nobles, you could just let one of them take it. Just make it overtly obvious that you're throwing the hunt."

She scoffed. "I mean, I can get drunk-"

"Please don't."

She rolled her eyes at the lunacy of it. Her name, her title, her creditability were on the line. "That's not the point. That dragon is being hunted for even existing."

"It's. A. dragon."

"That's not. Hurting. Anyone."

"Look, you're getting paid if you kill it. What's the problem?"

She threw her hands up in frustration at the man. He doesn't understand. Of course, he doesn't understand the Way of the Voice because she can't tell him. She can't tell him of the ever-growing need for domination. She can't tell him how this dragon is fighting everything to find peace and balance in their world. "The last time I slew an innocent dragon, we got married." Her tone was biting as she looked him over. "Forgive me if I'm a bit more hesitant this time. You don't seem the polygamous type." He arched an unamused brow at her logic. But his body language showed he was unmoving on the subject. She took a breath and tried a different tactic. "How does slaying this dragon help the Inquisition?

"It helps us solidify our contacts and gain prestige with the nobles of Orlais. Are you not paying attention?"

"Are you? No good can come from this useless slaughter?"

"We all have to make sacrifices." He said, looking away from her. His voice was low as if stated with a heavy heart.

But she wasn't having it. She shook her head, stepping away from him. "Haven't I sacrificed enough? Haven't we? Look at us. Married. For the Inquisition."

She watched his jaw clench as he kept his eyes on the windows behind her. "What do you want from me? An apology? Fine." He stood quickly and approached her. "I'm sorry I defended you against the Avvar. I'm sorry that I cared about your safety." He stopped with he was within arm's reach and sneered down at her. "I'm sorry this isn't what you wanted. It's no picnic for me either. But it doesn't matter because you can't look past your own nose to see others suffering." He turned, waving a vague hand at her. "Married to some heathen who can't even control her own tongue and lashed out like a caged animal when she doesn't get what she wants."

Uthreida was stunned silent in her anger. Her eyes only seeing the point where his skull connected to the his spine and the bit of fur over his shoulders. A snarl started in her throat. She has fulfilled most of her duties as a wife to the extent that she could here. And he, Mara, she's trying. She stepped behind him, fists at her sides. "What do you want from me, eh?" She shoved his shoulder to get his attention. "I'm trying. I'm trying to see things through the eyes of this land, but all I see is the same barbarism that you accuse me of. I lash out because I've seen this before. I've lived this before. If you're expecting me to apologize for not swooping in to save you from yourself, hold your breath. I'm giving you an opportunity to save yourself and you blame me for this."

"I blame your inability to silence yourself in a room of people who, you well know, are tolerant of your presence. But instead, you bluster like some tourney knight."

"I don't even know what that means." She growled, fisting her hands at her sides as she paced him. "My bluster comes from experience. And I will not be silenced when standing before evil or apathy. Do you think I don't know what it's like to be tolerated? To be watched daily for corruption? To feel the eyes and see the fear? But perhaps it's you who can't look beyond your own nose, because, by the gods, I'm trying. I am trying to be what's expected. I'm trying to be respectful but you see it as a disgrace. When I try to be honorable, it's barbaric to you. And when I try to help innocent lives, you cast it aside as" she paused to look for the word and growled when nothing came to mind. "I don't know what."

"Imprudent?"

"I guess." She waved a hand to his face in distaste as he only looked more annoyed. "You want me to obey, but I won't stand by, blindly following the orders of some king who lies to his own people, uses his men, and feigns the gods just to gain an advantage on a war he can't possibly win. Standing there like you're Talos reborn. Not again." She looked at him with fire in her heart and breathing deeply at her rant.

Cullen slowly uncrossed his arms, a look of confusion in his features as he looked down at her. "I think you have some unresolved feelings or you're confusing me for someone else."

Uthreida blinked back. Her anger disseminated as she tried to recall what she just said. She looked away. Closing her eyes, she reminded herself that he's not Ulfric.

He's not Ulfric.

She looked at him with a breath and saw the sorrowful understanding in his eyes. He understood. Completely.

Uthreida licked her lips. Revealing too much and too late to run away now. "I'm not killing that dragon." She said, turning away from him to walk.

Her hand was pulled back. She looked down and saw that she was gripping a rope in her hand. She turned to follow it, unsure of how it got there. Cullen was looking at his own hand that held the other end with the same look of confusion on his face.

She looked at the rope. It was knotted in several places, some knotting on themselves. And in the middle of each knot was a ribbon or scrap of leather. Each of a different color.

They both looked at one another in confusion of the other.

"When did you-"

"I didn't do this."

"What's going on?"

"I have no idea."

Both looked down at the rope that had magically appeared in their hands. Cullen dropped it first. "You don't have to kill the dragon, but you do need to attend."

She threw the hand up tossing the rope to the ground. "I will not be party to an innocents slaughter for sport." He groaned at her stance. "If you want the prestige so bad, you go."

He rolled his eyes and picked up a parchment from his desk. "Oh look, a dragon is attacking Lydes. True shame. Good journey." He dropped the parchment on his desk and feigned a grin that dropped instantly.

Uthreida glared at him before rolling her eyes. "No."

"Uthreida, please." His tone was between an order and a plea. But she couldn't discern which was heavier.

"Cullen. Please." She bit back. Crossing her arms to sever the conversation.

He took a step forward. "Uthreida, you are the dragon slayer for the Inquisition-"

"To kill dragons that would affect the Inquisition-"

"As such, these occasional hunts are expected to arise-"

"And the black dragon that Corypheus controls not-"

"It is expected of you to attend to keep the men safe-"

"Dragons that are trying to follow the Way of the Voice."

"As you had promised you would."

"Why would I kill a creature that fights its nature for peace?"

They both grunted, realizing the other didn't hear what was said.

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose with a deep breath. "I order you to go to Lydes to attend the hunt."

She arched a brow at his gall. "One: I'm not one of your soldiers. I'm a mercenary on contract. Two: I'd love to, but I'll be drinking Iron bull under the table for the next week. Conflicting schedules, you know how it is. Maybe later."

He met her charade with one of authority. "Don't think I'm not above tying you to the cart." She grinned at the challenge. Staying awake for a few days was nothing new to her. Cullen sighed at her expression. "You're getting paid for it. What's the problem?"

"It's not about gold, Commander. It's about principle."

"Whose? Yours, that means nothing here?" She dropped her jaw at his blatant statement. "Or, maybe, you can look at the larger picture and see that the Inquisition needs allies if we're going to win this war. Allies with deep pockets and stupidly dangerous hobbies that flaunt such wealth."

"So this is all for gold?"

"Gold buys food, weapons, and maintains the keep. It's not entirely about gold. It's about representation. Respect. Credibility. Integrity. Commitment to help those in need. But if you're too shortsighted to see that and too selfish to look beyond your own reputation, I can put you on a four-day trip to point it out."

Gods damnit. He had a point. She snorted as she broke her gaze with him. "Stendarr's hammer, you're stubborn."

"Me?" He bent down to look her in the eye, a hand pointed to his chest. "Might I suggest a looking glass?" Uthreida lowered her brow at the phrase in confusion. "It shows your reflection."

"A mirror." She corrected as he stood his normal height. "Look," she took a breath, running a hand over her hair. "This is a horrible idea. Even if I did 'throw the hunt' if I'm anywhere near that dragon, they'll see me absorb the soul. And those are questions I'm not ready to answer to a court."

He shook his head at the obvious answer. "Then kill the dragon before anyone sees."

She shot him an annoyed look. "It's a dragon. And neither of us are quiet in combat."

"I'm aware." He said off-handed, implying more than the current conversation.

They stood off in silence, not bending to the other. Uthreida sucked her teeth at the man who only arched a brow.

"Daggers sharp as dragon teeth"

Uthreida crouched and held a hand to her blade to the ethereal voice that filled the room. She looked around and felt her heart stop.

Cole sat atop the bookshelf, one leg dangling, his wide hat hiding his face from the warriors. Uthreida gave a chuckle at the spirit and stood back up, her hand clutching her heart in fear.

Cullen eyed her with an amused expression. "Jumpy, aren't you."

"I'm"

"Paranoid?"

She shot a playful offended look. "Cautious." She finished.

He smirked but looked at the young man. "Cole, come down please before you hurt yourself."

"Daggers deep in a place you can't reach." The boy said, circling behind Uthreida. She turned to see him but he was gone. "Lies stitched to flesh the flaming sun hides." He spoke from behind Cullen, only seen by his hat. Cullen turned and missed him. "Knotting secrets and betrayal, shortening the length of the bridge across the chasm of the tide." Uthreida tilted her chin up to the boy who looked down at the rope. His head tilted. "Desire to unwind, to speak to the winds of time." He stood before Uthreida in such a quick movement that she stepped back. "Fear masked in insanity," he moved to stand before Cullen, "Betrayal for the greater good."

"Cole." Uthreida looked at Cullen who had stopped the boy at the same time she did. Both were breathing deeply, knowing the truth he was saying to them. Revealing their fears and history before the other. Neither knowing which part was for them or for the other. She saw the panic in his eyes and she knew fear had marred her features. They looked away from one another. Each taking a breath, before relaxing their shoulders and stood their ground.

Cole stood between them, his hand on the knotted rope that was once again linked between the two. Both holding the ends of it. The boy kept his head bent, not looking as he fingered some of the ribbons from the knots. Uthreida looked at the ribbons. Each hanging like a prize. "Lessons learned through speech alone lengthens the bridge of the lands." His ethereal voice filling the space.

Uthreida found herself holding a blue ribbon. The first knot on the rope held the ends together. She could hear Cullen breathe deeper than before. She looked over and saw his eyes focused on the blue ribbon in her hand. She felt a sense of dread overtake her as she looked at Cullen's dark expression. She swallowed back. "These," she took a breath, remembering the knot lesson from the Avvar. Knots that required understanding to take out. "These are lies and secrets, aren't they, Cole?"

The boy tilted his head, still looking at the rope. "It doesn't like being knotted. It wants to be unfurled. To be its whole self. It wants to understand why. It wants to heal." He lifted his head to Uthreida, though she never saw his eyes. "But the daggers you can reach will cut the flesh and sever the rope."

In that moment, she felt every scar on her body burn in pain. Her pain will cut the rope. Her eyes drifted to Cullen. Her pain will sever their understanding of the world. His hand shook slightly as he held the rope in a clenched fist. She looked at the blue ribbon, rubbing the texture between the fingers of her glove. She clenched her jaw. Her eyes on the boots of her husband before her. "Thank you, Cole. I think I understand." She said softly. She looked at him, but his hat moved in different directions as if he was distracted by something. She looked back at the ribbon in her hand. Without words, without guidance to what treasure of secret hold. She looked at him again, and he was gone.

"This is ridiculous," Cullen stated quickly. Releasing his hold on the rope. The knots fell to her side as she felt the full weight of the rope as it grazed her armored leg. "No." She said softly, knowing this weight was less than the blood of their people should they go to war. "This is necessary." She whispered. She held up the rope, inspecting each knot, and saw that a strip of the leather in the center was dragon scale leather. Their central lie was of who and what she was.

She bit her lip in thought. Her eyes were taken to the length of rope. She cannot get to the central knot without unwinding all of the others. It's either the last truth or the last lie before understanding their lands. The rope wants to heal, to be whole, to be understood. When it's at its full length, will the chasm shorten and strengthen the lands? Thedas and Tamriel could be united if they would only learn to communicate.

She looked at the blue ribbon and was reminded of the robes of the tranquil she had met in the library and the fear that overtook her. She looked over at Cullen who held a hand to the pommel of his weapon with more force than necessary.

Uthreida took a deep breath, throwing the rope over her shoulder, and gave in. "I will go to the hunt." Cullen arched a brow in skepticism. "In exchange for a conversation." She watched as his throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I have concerns of the Mage, Templar, Circle, Chantry relationship that you could answer."

Cullen looked away, his hand loosened on the pommel. "We can meet tonight if you want. Provided you'll spend the day preparing for the hunt." She nodded quickly. "There's," he said, but the words caught. "A conversation we need to have as well."

Uthreida fingered some of the other knots and sighed. "I'll prepare my questions then. With open eyes and open hearts."

Cullen looked at her for a moment, then nodded, taking a deep breath, his eyes on the rope on her shoulder. "You should prepare. It's a four-day ride to Lydes. I'll have Knight-Captain Rylen overlook the other requirements for the trip to ensure safe passage and ease of transport for you and your party."

"Aye." She turned awkwardly. She turned to look at him. His eyes were steeled as he watched her leave. Even with her shoulders bent, she wondered if what he would say would be honest.

Xxxxx

Cullen was in the middle of the cart, to horse, to men ratio and the required gold for it when the north door opened. "Yes." He didn't look up from his work as he calculated that one hundred and eighty-seven gold will have to be used to feed, train, and house each horse and rider brought under their command per month. Maker. He rolled his neck and looked over to see a woman standing before his desk. It took him a moment to realize who it was. She wasn't armored or armed but wore loose trousers, a loose green shirt, and a twill shawl over her shoulders. Her hair had been released from its daily braid and windblown. But what threw him for a moment and almost didn't recognize her, was that Uthreida's kohl had been washed off. Her eyes looked smaller than usual. She looked, approachable. In her hands were two books. Tabbed and eared as if she did spend her day preparing her questions.

Right. He took a deep breath. He had promised a conversation. He only just noticed how much candlelight was filling the space and the darkness of the night at his back. He licked his lips and smiled kindly. "I have a few more things to wrap up. Will you wait for me?"

"Of course." She waved a hand to allow him.

He gave a thankful nod and reviewed the maps of the Hinterlands and Storms Coast. There was obviously Red Templar presence on the coast. He needed men to scout and keep an eye on the area. However, the horses needed to purchase to transport food and equipment. It's a thirty-day trip from one side of the country to another. Four days to Denerim to gather supplies. They could make weekly supply runs but will need reliable merchants in the area who would be willing to work on contract with the Inquisition. Hopefully, with King Alistair's backing, he could-

A loud crash pulled him from his thoughts as Uthreida stood on the other side of his office with a pained expression on her face. "Sorry." Cullen looked at the mess and saw that her curiosity about the draped furniture caught her attention. And knocked over the rotting wood that was stacked on it. Cullen arched a brow and sighed. Returning to his calculations and possible supply contacts available in Denerim.

He blocked out the movements of her hauling the old wood out of his office and onto the ramparts to be reused for kindling. He ignored her inhale of surprise as she discovered a couch under the drape as he cross-referenced Denerim market square requirements.

He did look up when she made a sequel and jumped on said couch with a hand grasped over her heart. Then laughed. It took Cullen a second to register that something had scared her. He rested his chin on a lifted fist to see what she would do. "There was a mouse." she pointed below the couch with an embarrassed smile. "Sorry." Cullen sighed at her disruption even as he smiled at how easily frightened she was. "You need a cat."

"Probably." He stated off-handed as he looked at Highever. The market was closer to Orlais and could have the resources they would need.

If he used both markets, he could run biweekly runs to each location as necessary. If his men could forage and hunt, it would reduce the amount required for foodstuffs while keeping the horses in constant use. However, that would mean he would need two carts. One for supplies for the men and one to supply the horses. Doubling his training and hold requirements for the supply line alone. Eight men to protect a single cart now doubled to sixteen. two elements to guard the roving supply lines with required replacements as needed.

"What is this?" She stated with excitement. Cullen kept his eyes on the map. "Eww."

Cullen looked up to see her holding a lute with something coming out of the hole. He watched as bits of paper fell from it and surmised that a mouse made the lute it's home. She took it outside to, he assumed, empty the contents. He grunted. Highever was known for its archers. Using the biweekly runs for arrows would be beneficial, but their fletches tended to be more expensive. Denerim's ore mines would make good use of replacement arms for the men if needed. Uthreida set the lute aside and looked at the couch in thought. She moved and grabbed his small tea cabinet and moved it across the room to set it beside the couch. Then moved to get his small table and set it before the couch. She returned and placed the other chair in his office next to the couch to create a sitting area. She tilted her head at it then snapped. He watched her pick up the candle stand from the corner of his office and placed it by the wall next to the couch. Thusly lighting the dark corner of his office.

He shook his head, realizing she wasn't going to let him work. Cullen closed the books and approached her little corner she was working on. "You know, I've been thinking," she said with a hand to her chin as she recognized his approach. "If you move all of that," she waved a hand to the other corner of sandbags, rotting wood, and practice dummy, "over there" she pointed to the corner with the ladder, "you could probably hold a hearth or something for a fire in that corner that could keep you warm in here in winter and heat your quarters." She pointed above them, but her eyes were still on, what he affectionately referred to, the junk corner. "Is there stone in that corner?"

Cullen looked at it with a brow. "No."

"Hmm" she paused before her eyes lit. "Or, you can box off the corner with thick lumber, encase it in thick leather, pour sand or dirt in it, and that should help redistribute the heat so it doesn't burn the floor. By end of winter, with enough grass and water, that dirt will bake a hearty brick." She looked at him with the excitement of a well-thought-out plan. That slowly dissipated the longer he didn't say anything. That was actually a decent idea. She huffed, crossing her arms. "Look, you're going to need a hearth come winter."

"No, I agree." He said, moving past her to the chair. He was hesitant about the couch. As the leaking roof may have also ruined the couch and didn't want to find out. He took the seat, arching a brow at the small, intimate space she had created for them. He wanted to sit behind his desk again. To create the distance that she would enclose on anyways.

She walked past and took a seat on the couch near to him. She stood again, rubbing her backside. Apparently finding the wet spot. She grabbed the fabric that was thrown over to protect it in quarters and sat down again. Cullen smirked as she moved to get comfortable. "Shall we begin?" She asked in a breath, reaching for the books she had brought.

He gave a nod, leaning back, crossing his arms over his chest. He noticed that one of the books she brought was the Chant of Light. Was this about to be Chant's studies? He smirked at the idea as she opened it up.

"So, Uh" she rubbed her neck in thought. "So the Chantry abhors magic?"

He took a deep breath. "Not abhors. Cautious."

"Because of the four, five, six mages, from Tevinter, who called on demons to fight their wars for them?" She opened the Chant so it laid against her lap with her ankles crossed below her.

Cullen lowered his brows in thought. "Thirteen, mages. If you'll open Threnodies, you'll see that a war was started because of two demons. Threnodies eight discusses the seven magisters who entered and defiled the Golden City. In-"

"I get the point." She lifted a hand to stop him with a patient smile. "So, help me, mages are evil because they can call and command demons from the fade?"

He arched a brow at the surprising ill-educated understanding. "Yes."

"But the Maker has never specifically stated that magic is bad. If man was created from the Aeth, sorry, Fade. Created from the Fade, then man has a natural connection to magic."

He watched her closely as she spoke. "Yes. But-"

"But why are people afraid of magic?"

Cullen looked at her, and her innocent eyes told him that this is a conversation he would have to have with his child someday. If he ever got to have children. "People aren't" he sighed. "How do I put this?" He rubbed his face in thought. "Mages have the power at their fingertips. Power that is imbalanced to everyone else. That power comes at a price. Mages are the only ones that are susceptible to demons. To becoming possessed and becoming abominations."

She furrowed her brow for a moment. "I thought you said anyone could be possessed."

"Uh, yes" he cut his eyes away in thought. "They can. But mages tend to draw in demons as they have a closer connection to the fade and a greater capability for change in the physical world.

"So do kings."

"True. But, for demons, to have magic is to have the same capability to change as they have in the Fade. The raw power that comes with such archaic capabilities."

She looked away in thought. "Do demons only attract themselves to powerful mages or anyone?"

He took a breath, thinking back on Kirkwall. "Generally, they are attracted to desperation. Those who are willing to trade values for life or social power. Even physical power."

"What do demons gain from this? Why do this?"

Cullen smirked. "In Threnodies five, you'll see that when the Maker made men, the spirits grew jealous of his turned love and decided to corrupt the second-born children of the Maker. The spirits of the Fade, separated from the physical realm by the Vail, want to be part of our world. They want to feel life that was denied to them. Thusly, their conversions are purely out of spite, I'm afraid."

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Are you sure it's just spite?"

He gave a soft shrug. "Yes. However, some of the more benevolent spirits such as...Cole, Uh, can be corrupted by the intents of mortals creating demons. But sometimes, the intents of the demons can corrupt the mortal. Creating abominations."

"Are there instances of peaceful mortals coexisting with peaceful spirits such as Cole? Or even benevolent abominations?"

Cullen rubbed his neck, realizing he was getting out of his element of expertise. He cleared his throat. "There haven't been any reported Uh, benevolent abominations. But it does create an interesting hypothetical conversation."

"Oh, let's." She scooted slightly close to him.

He looked her over in mild confusion. "This is more of a conversation for Solas than myself. He's the fade, spirit, rift expert where I'm not."

She smiled politely. "So, as a former Templar, why is it important to kidnap mages?"

He tilted his head at her phrasing. "Kidnap?"

She looked innocently at him. "Is that not the right word?"

"No, it's not."

She blinked slowly, leaning back on the couch. "Then what is?"

"Detain."

"You detain children from their families?"

Cullen took a breath, realizing which side she sympathized with. "Generally, when magic manifests, the child usually causes undue harm to another person, such as a friend or family. They are taken to a Circle where they can learn how to harness their magic away from the scruples larger population."

"But doesn't hiding the mages from the general population only make them fear magic more because they don't know about it? Creating this fear of the darkness, type, situation?"

He sighed. "I'm sure people would prefer to keep magic out of their homes as much as possible."

"Why?"

"Have you seen what a demon can do?"

"Have you seen what fear of misunderstanding can do?" Her tone wasn't accusatory, but rather philosophical.

He took a breath, letting his shoulders relax. "Yes. I've seen the fear of citizens not knowing or comprehending why an ash wraith was chasing them. I've seen people cower at the sight of a Pride demon. I've seen mages, cut their fellows in fear of their lives, to bring forth a power to protect themselves."

She took a deep breath, searching his eyes for understanding. She relaxed her own shoulder and sighed. "I have also seen good men go to great lengths to protect people from deadric whisperings. I've seen men throw away their lives for duty when it wasn't warranted. I've seen men regret their pacts and learn to overcome them. I've seen people with these pacts strive so others may not walk their same paths."

"But you haven't seen people butchered?"

"The butchery I witnessed was from people who claimed that their general would lead them to freedom."

Cullen took a deep breath, realizing he was leaning towards her during the conversation. He forced himself to lean back in his chair. He felt attacked for his choices, but her tone was one of understanding. "I take it you don't have Circles where you're from."

Her eyes turned to the books before her. "No."

His eyes dropped to the Chant of Light still open across her lap. "How do your mages learn magic?"

"Basic magic is taught in the home." He looked at her with a furrowed brow. She was a mage thus- she smiled. "Where I am from, anyone has the capability to learn magic. To do it efficiently requires aptitude."

He pulled his head back. "Everyone is a mage?"

"According to your black and white standings as I understand them, aye."

His eyes were wide at the notion of another nation being full of mages like Tevinter. He tried to move the conversation, but couldn't wrap his head around the idea. She smiled at his falter. "I believe the Vail here is thicker than in my homeland. In Tamriel, magic is as common as breathing. In Skyrim, we use magic for requirements. In Cyrodill and Marrowwind, you'll find magic is far more prevalent."

He breathed out the idea slowly. "Who taught you magic?"

She gave a blushing smile. "My father. He taught me and my sisters the basics. Healing, fire, and ice so we could cook, keep food, and stay safe."

"Is that common?" Cullen felt like an idiot. She just said.

"Aye." She smiled at him.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Aren't your people worried about demons and possession or Blood Mages?"

She gave a hardy laugh at the motion. "I won't lie, I've killed plenty of cultists. But our demons are different. Aye, the cultists reach to them for the same reasons, but they know their pawns. Once the contract is finished, they die. Or people like me and you kill them. They become trapped forever in the domain of the Deadra."

He arched a brow. "People like me? "

She smiled again. "Aye. You have the Silver Hand that kills werewolves that make pacts with Hircine, the Prince of the Hunt. The Dawn Guard kills vampires or blood mages, as you know them. Then you have the Vigilance that stands in opposition to all Deadric worship of demons. In other lands, there are other knights and orders that do the same thing." She canted her head in thought. "Because magic is taught in the home, the guards know some magic that helps them in their patrols. Knowing the dangers allows them to understand what to look for and how to defend themselves. While not specifically trained, they can still assist the orders in their hunts."

"So, everyone's a spell sword?"

"Magic is a choice." She shrugged. "Can I cast lightning? Sure. Will I? Probably not."

"Why?"

"I'm a sneak thief." She chuckled. "Why make a lot of noise with fire and the screaming when a silent arrow is more effective. People know when magic is being cast. What they don't know, is when you have them in your sights."

Cullen took a deep breath, trying to wrap his head around the chaos. "You let mages roam free with no oversight?"

She shrugged. "Like I said. We have Orders that hunt and others that keep the peace. If it's discovered that a Hagraven is taking up residence, someone will take care of it. Usually one of the orders, a sellsword, or even a Thane."

He shook his head at the phrase but leaned forward. "You wait for a problem and take care of it retroactively?"

"I mean, do you put people in jail on the assumption they could murder, or wait until after the fact? It's the same theory."

"But" he ran a hand through his hair at the logic.

"What?" She chuckled. "Where did I lose you?"

He rubbed his neck. "Lack of oversight, I think."

"I don't think there's a complete lack of oversight. I see what you're saying, but" she shrugged. "Look, the mages you're worried about, the ones making pacts and digging too deep, and wanting chaos and destruction. Those are single drops of water in the sea. The vast majority of people, just want to live. To help their fellow man. To help their people. And the big ones you're worried about with all-powerful magic, are academically trained. And the colleges watch over each other. I've sat in on the college's ethics classes. They take magical ethics very seriously. And sometimes, if they have to, they imprison their own for the safety of others."

He arched a brow. "Even the most elite schools in Tevinter, with little to no oversight from Templars, still practice blood magic."

She quirked a brow. "What you fail to realize, Cullen, is that those magisters are still people. And people will use any power available to them to maintain their power. Ask any general who looks for any opportunity in the field. Any merchant who needs to cut down their competition. Anyone who's had to face bandits and were willing to do anything to stay safe. People will do anything to survive. Even King Ulfric used the voice to subdue King Torygg and killed him to take the throne. Power isn't entirely held with those with magic. You and I are proof of that. Power lies with those who are willing to do anything to further it by any means necessary."

Cullen took a deep breath, looking at her with concern and confusion. "How do you people function?"

"Rather well, actually."

"How?"

She smirked. "Well, we don't kidnap kids."

"Detain."

"Nuance. Anyone that holds a court appointment has to be academically trained. Anyone who wants to conduct research-"

"Go back." He took another breath at her world. "Court-appointed?"

"Aye, court wizards." Cullen dropped his jaw. "Mages that assist the Jarls, kings, generals of magical anomalies or threats in their lands."

Cullen went wide-eyed. "You have mages, with kings?"

"Like Lady of Iron. She informs the Empress of magical stuffs in Orlais, aye?"

Cullen scoffed. "It's Orlais. That was a jesting court appointment."

She gave an appreciative look. "Then I suppose it's rather progressive."

"Wait, generals? Generals have their own...mages?"

"Aye. Some do. Cyrodill is known for its battle mages. So, good luck with that." She gave a wry smile as she looked at him.

Cullen ran a hand over his mouth in thought. "You're joking."

She shook her head. "No. They're quite frightening from what I understand. Mages in full heavy armor with a sword in one hand and a fireball in the other." Her eyes dropped to his vembraces with the flaming sword.

His eyes followed her gaze and he smirked. "We can smite the area, render them without magic."

"Unlike your mages, they still have a sword."

"Templars are the best-trained fighting force in Thedas."

"And yet, Tevinter still stands."

Cullen grunted. "Either Dorian likes to talk or you've been doing research."

"I think we both know it's Dorian."

Her dead eyes at the comment made Cullen chuckle. Cullen rolled his shoulders. "Combined military service, huh? And your people are...comfortable with that?"

"Aye. Having soldiers who can do a quick heal while delivering blows is effective on the battlefield. Then you have the temple-trained healers that await at the rear."

He lowered his brow. "Temple trained. As in religion?"

"Aye. Mages that specialize in the Magic's for their chosen god. Most of them follow healing with slight variants depending on the gods."

He looked at her with a slightly turned head in question. "And do your Vigilance stand at the temples?"

She bobbed her head. "Yes and no. There is a presence, but they don't just stand there."

"Are they there at your collages?"

"Eh, no." Cullen looked at her flabbergasted. "What, sometimes you got to fight fire with fire. Let the mages sort it out. They'll be fine." She waved a hand to dismiss it and Cullen almost had a heart attack. "Do you understand why I'm confused about the whole bit of the circles?"

"Do you understand why I'm frightened at the idea?"

"Look, mages, in Tamriel, generally just want to read or live. Without the constant pressuring oversight. They're fine."

"Fine?"

"Aye." Cullen wiped his hand over his face. She cannot be serious. "Let me ask you something. Since starting the Circles, you said thirteen mages have tried to destroy the world, aye. Without circles, guess how many mages successfully tried to take over the world."

Cullen looked at her between his fingers, realizing just how slumped in his chair he was. "Eighty-three." She held up three fingers. She looked in thought and changed it to four. Shaking her hand to show that it kind of counted Cullen blinked slowly. "I...absolutely refuse to believe that."

"Mannimarco started the Planemeld, Mankar Camoran created the Oblivion Crisis, Jagar Tharn who tried to trap an Emperor Septum something and claim the title of Emperor, and Deagoth Ur for starting the Blight." His eyes widened. "Different blight. Anyways. These four had a powerful hero that was 'foretold by the gods'" she gave a dramatic show for emphasis, "stopped them. Everyone else" she waved a dismissive hand. "Local Nuisance."

He laughed at her off-handed remark. He could see the merit, but she held it all so loosely. He sat up in his chair, a serious expression taking over. "Anders, a local healer, a Grey Warden, exploded the Chantry in Kirkwall. He incited the entire mage rebellion."

She looked away in thought for a moment. "Good."

Cullen snapped. She didn't understand. Couldn't possibly understand. He tried three times to cut her down but bit back his anger, his resentment, his grief at her one word. He took a needed breath. Picking up his chair and moving so he sat across from her with the small table between them so he didn't strangle her. "Good?" He scathed. Leaning towards her with an accusatory hand pointed. "Innocent people died in the Cathedral. Citizens died in the streets. My friends, my men butchered. For what?"

"Change." Cullen snarled, throwing himself back in his chair. He rested his head in his hand trying not to look at her and think of the sword on his hip. "Cullen, from what I understand, Templars stand ready to kill anyone who shows weakness. They can move without impunity."

"That's a lie."

"Your mages don't seem to think so." He scoffed at the idea. "According to them, Templars hold their hands to mages throats and wait until they become possessed. Templar's fear of demons, surmounted with their training, creates a self-fulfilling prophecy when the mages do fail." Her tone was soft as of to talk him off the ledge of rage. "Your Templars see mages as weak-willed who need to be protected from themselves and others. Who stands as a guardian shield between mortality and Oblivion. Who holds the sorrowful duty to protect what the Maker had created." He looked at her, feeling his rage simmer slightly. Her eyes portraying some form of understanding of the situation but not grasping the whole truth. "Why did you leave the Templars?"

He arched a brow. "Why "

"I want to know if the policies and rules set in place changed your mind."

"Why did you leave the thieves guild?"

Her look of innocents shifted softly to a fond memory. "I told you." She looked at him with a curl on her lip. "When my Uncle found out what my destiny was, he released me from the guild. He didn't want me to be associated with the guild when my duty required more."

He tilted his head slightly. "Your uncle?"

"Brynolf. Thieves' guild master. And thief extraordinaire."

He gave a skeptical look. "Uncle by covenant or-"

"Uncle by blood. He, Uh," she looked away for a moment, "he took me in." There was a story that followed her tone. One of darkness and cruelty. Cullen lowered his eyes from her. "Why did you leave the Templars?"

Cullen took a deep breath, having a vague idea where this was going. "I witnessed the mage uprising first hand. Cassandras solution was the Inquisition. I left them to join the Inquisition."

When he looked at her, she tilted her head. "There's something you're not saying."

He looked at her with wider eyes. How could she know that? He noticed his hand covering his mouth. He gave a heavy sigh. He sat up in the chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "After Kirckwalls Chantry fell, I became the Knight Commander of Kirkwall. I saw not only the destruction of the city but the continued belabored destruction of the bureaucratic systems of the Chantry. The new Mother was more concerned about rebuilding the Chantry than providing food for the survivors. She was more concerned with her uniforms of office than giving blankets to the displaced. She cared more for parties than she did for the rouge mage splinter cells that were terrorizing the city. If it hadn't been for Aveline, Kirkwall" he shook his head at the memories of him and the guard captain standing outside the Mother's office for hours, waiting for their meeting with the Viscount just to have it canceled when they could've been doing something productive. "She failed to fulfill edicts. Some of my men resorted to savagery and torture against the mages that remained. And the ones they captured" he shook his head again. "They never made it back to the gallows alive. I can't even tell you how many of them I had to personally beat. When the Circles formally disbanded, they started going AWOL. They felt as though they were being dismissed after we lost so many of our brothers that night. They started to lose faith in the Mother. Losing faith in the Order. In the Chantry. In Andraste."

A pregnant silence befell them as his face lowered to the ground. His hands clasped as the memories started to flood back.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." She said softly. He looked up to see her looking at her own folded hands in her lap. Looking uncomfortable at his story. "Thank you for telling me." When she looked at him, there was a softness to her eyes. She scrunched her face in embarrassment. She hid her face with a hand. "You probably think I'm a bitch, don't you?"

"Your words." He said with a smirk.

"I'm sorry, I" she sighed again, wiping her face like a tear. "I" she stopped, looking to the candles for direction. "I wanted to... correlate...whale bones. Anyways. I'm." She furrowed her brows in sympathy at him. "It's still raw, isn't it? Kirkwall?"

Cullen gave a single, slow nod at her that she returned in understanding. In the silence, she tapped the book before her a few times and huffed. "So this whole thing is a ruse. I'm" she tossed the book on the table with a thud. "I was trying to be subverted, but it'll only anger you more. The mages guild and the circle are mostly the same with...varying policies of questions of culture. But the ethics, teachings, no political affiliations, and even method of raising coin are the same. Modern views of magic are becoming quite similar to your own because of the four mages I just listed. 'Magic is meant to serve, not rule' aye?" Cullen was proud that she quoted the scripture accurately. "The main difference being choice vs systematic oppression for a minute percentage of the population." Cullen gave her a dead expression that she missed as she kept talking. "So let's just get to the point. Tranquility." She cleared her throat and looked at him expectantly.

Cullen looked at her with wide eyes. He swallowed hard at the memories of the tranquil solution in Kirkwall. He looked away, rubbing his palms together. He took a deep breath. "I think that's enough for tonight."

"You said I could come to you with questions."

"I can guess where this conversation is going to go." He said with his heart in his throat.

She shifted in the couch but remained sitting. "That would imply that you know anything about me."

"You're a mage. And a mage sympathizer. I can guess." He looked at her head-on, leaning back in his chair. Knowing the onslaught she was going to give.

But her features weren't ready for battle. She wasn't angered. "I've seen what tranquility means through my eyes." She canted her head to meet his, her brows furrowing in a silent plea. "Show me what it means through yours."

He lowered his gaze from her, swallowing back the memories of Ser Alrik. The two mages that were discovered to be pregnant only confessed after his death. Hawks sneer as Cullen suggested wider use. The disgust he feels in himself now. Cullen took a deep breath. "Tranquility" he spoke slowly, licking his scar, "is the last resort." He took a breath and heard his breath shake. "It was created as a mercy for mages who feared possession from demons. To keep them from becoming a threat they might pose." The bile in his throat as he once believed Ser Alrik had the right idea of it. "Many mages view it as no better than death."

Uthreida was silent as he spoke. Silent as she thought. "Was it ever used as a punishment?"

He clenched his jaw, and let her see the truth of his memories. "Yes."

He heard her take a deep breath but didn't say anything. Her silence was thicker and harsher than anything she could've shouted at him. "You said it was a mercy. For who?"

He looked at her. Her eyes were dead as she looked at him. Her face was carefully not revealing any emotions. And he quickly became unsure which was her real mask. Was this the face she shows everyone else? Quick to kill. Quick to hunt. A silent rage. Or was her smile, anger, playful, was that the real her. He swallowed it back, his eyes dropping to his lap. "It's a mercy for the mages."

"That's economically unfeasible." She stated with a hollow tone. "To keep tranquil in the mages tower, who can't practice magic? That's food and beds being wasted. Why keep them?"

"They have nowhere to go." He clenched his jaw. "Normal society finds them disturbing."

"You don't say." Her dead sarcasm cut deeper than any of her anger. "Whose mercy is it again?"

"The mages."

"I suppose the tranquil would make good slaves. After all, someone has to sweep and empty the chamber pots with no complaint."

"They're not slaves. They have free will."

"Then why keep them?"

Cullen rolled his shoulder to fight the tense muscles. "You said you wanted to see it through the eyes of a Templar."

"I am." She said quickly. "And I'm ashamed of what I see."

He looked away. "Tranquility allows the mages to live in a-"

"How is it done?"

Cullen clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. He had performed the right only twice in his life and it was heart-wrenching each time. But Chantry law was clear. "I can't answer that." She arched a dominating brow at his comment. "The Rite of Tranquility is a last resort to keep the mages safe from themselves. The ones who undergo ask for it themselves. They prefer a life of useful-"

"Life?" She stated quickly. "What is life, Commander Cullen?" There was a terse to her voice that made him sit upright in his chair. "Is it simply the beating of a heart? Blinking of eyes? Compared to your tranquil, fish in a barrel are more alive."

"That's unfair. Tranquil can and have shown autonomy when it's a logical solution."

"Then why keep them?"

He gripped the arm of his chair. The truth was just as ugly as the ritual. "Because they can enchant items and turn a profit for a Circle and for the Chantry." He spat. Giving her the simplest, most vile answer that she apparently wanted. "They can work the lyrium without worry that they will betray the people or the Circle."

She canted her head slightly as she looked at him. "And how much of that profit goes back to them?" Her voice was low as she addressed him. Cullen looked away. "Slaver."

"It's not slavery."

"You can call it whatever you like. But it is what it is." He met her dead eyes and tensed. "The only thing keeping me from bending your will to prove a point is the fact that you're obviously disgusted by the practice."

Cullen met her gaze and didn't flinch. "The Rite of Tranquility has been authorized by the Chantry-" she whispered something and shut her eyes for a moment. Cullen watched her with snarling rage as her eyes moved about the room.

She finally looked at him, in the candlelight, he saw red reflections in her eyes. "Keep talking and I will show you what your Rite looks like to me." Her voice carried a bass he hadn't heard before. "Clawing your way for control as you move to sit at my feet, as I pet your pretty golden hair like the dog of war you will become under my domination."

Her hands were unclenched as she sat with a regal air, but her voice held a promise that made a shiver run up his spine. He had faced mages, wraiths, demons, fellow crazed Templars, statues, but this woman held power as he had never seen. Her whole aura changed. Her whole person changed before his eyes. His hand itched for his blade.

Uthreida closed her eyes, turning her head from him with a furrowed brow. He took the moment to silently clench and unclench muscles to make sure he was loose for the coming battle. She took measured breaths. Calming whatever she was doing. Cullen scooted forward in his chair, making sure he could draw if he needed to.

She reached up, moving the hair off her neck as she took another breath. "I'm sorry. That was" she sighed. "Dark." When she looked at him, her easy smile and usual blue eyes met his. She moved so she sat cross-legged on the couch.

Cullen arched a brow as her whole demeanor changed. "What was that?" She met his eyes, and a shadow of something crossed hers. She grinned, looking away as if to start another topic. "No." Cullen quickly severed it. "What was that?"

A guiled smile ghosted her lips as she considered him in silence. She rolled her shoulders slowly in thought. "You once asked me if I was a dragon." She said quietly, as if afraid that if it rang off the stone, everyone would know. "Usually, no." She licked her lips as she looked him over. "But there are times where I lose control. And," she licked her teeth and looked away. "I'm sorry you had to see that. I ah," she chuckled with a blush, "hope I didn't frighten you." She finished with a charming smile and a tilted head.

Cullen could still feel his heart hammering in his chest. "You did."

She blinked away her hope and looked at him in empathy. Her jaw slowly opening and shutting as she dropped her gaze in apology. She pulled her hair behind her ear sheepishly and took a deep breath. Her awkward, embarrassed smile, apological look gave her some credit. "So, Uh" she moved her eyes across the room, avoiding looking at him, curling her shoulders closer to appear smaller to him. "I think I have a decent understanding of what it means to be a mage and tranquil in Thedas-"

"You really don't."

She jutted her jaw in mocking offense even as a smile curled on her lips. She smiled wider when she met his eyes for the moment. "What does it mean to be a Templar in Thedas?" Cullen slowly crossed his arms over his plate, watching her with a stern expression of a dangerous mage that needed to be put down. "I mean, I've heard rumors and I've had the 'pleasure' of speaking to a few, but perhaps you can give me an inside perspective." Cullen arched a brow. He heard her, but her request lacked merit. "I could guess if you'd like. You're right, that does sound like more fun. Let's see." She tapped her chin in thought. "Templars are the best-trained warriors in Thedas." Cullen blinked slowly. "Who's adversary is either young children or kept weak and serventile in the Circles." Cullen's frown deepened almost painfully so. But she smiled it off. She was trying to draw his anger. "They are religious to the point of boredom, and, I've heard," she looked around like she was about to tell a secret with a smile. She held a hand to hide her mouth from eavesdroppers. "They're quite promiscuous." She covered her mouth in a mocking scandal.

"Now see here," he pointed a hand at her and she only grinned with all her teeth showing. Getting the rise she wanted. Cullen felt his neck grow hot as he looked at her. She was making fun of him. Cullen grunted, looking away and forcefully crossing his arms again. Damn woman.

"I've also heard that their stamina is" she grabbed the collar of her shirt, giving a slight tug as she made a face of delighted intrigue, biting her lower lip. Cullen's eyes were drawn to her collar. Admits the tattoos he noticed a braided leather necklace though the end of it was tucked inside her shirt. Cullen refused to take the bait this time as she was obviously trying to make him blush.

"So, what is a normal day for a Templar?" While still smiling, her eyes showed earnest interest.

"Do you even care?"

"Well, I mean." She gave a shrug. "I think it's important to see both sides." She just said that about tranquility and got angered when he did. "The mages are willing to speak of their suffering. The injustices. But the Templars stand fast, stoic. They don't speak of it. It's hard to understand their side of they don't talk." He looked at her and saw the earnestness in her eyes, but remained silent to let her fill the void. She looked away with a smirk. "Look, I've made decisions when I didn't have the full information. And" she bit the side of her lip. "It got a lot of people killed. Good people. I" she sighed in resignation. "I don't want to do that again."

He felt his heart wrench. Watching her speak like that. Feeling the weight of his own decisions with that same sentiment. He sighed, rolling his eyes. "What do you want to know?" He asked with a breath, unfolding his arms as he looked at her.

She beamed and scooted close to the edge of the couch. She looked away in thought. "Why did you join the Order?"

Cullen furrowed his brows at her question. She seemed more content to get a world perspective but was asking by individual. "I ah" he cleared his throat to clear his mind. "I could think of no better calling than to protect those in need. I used to beg the Templars in our local chantry to teach me. At first, they humored me, but I guess I showed promise, or at least a willingness to learn." He watched her smile at him. "The Knight Captain spoke to my parents. They agreed to send me off for training. I was thirteen when I left home."

Her smile faded and her brows furrowed. "Both sides are trained from a young age?"

He nodded solemnly. "They are. Though I wasn't the youngest one there. Some are promised to the Chantry at birth."

She furrowed her brows again. "Birth?"

"Yes. Sometimes," he took a calming breath, "when a mage is discovered to be pregnant, the child is given to the Chantry."

"Why?" He was expecting venom, but her tone was more confused.

He swallowed back the edicts of possible child abominations that could stalk the halls of the Circle. "The Uh, the Circle is a place of learning and protection. Not child-rearing."

"But why are they taken?"

He took another breath, hearing the hurt in her voice. "Children born of a mage parent are given to the chantry as the parent belongs to the Chantry. Having strong family ties makes it difficult for the child as for the parent and are oftentimes seen as a mercy. If the child is not a mage, to grow up in a circle can be seen as an undue punishment." he sighed. "The mages have to maintain a sense of neutrality in all things. Their emotions are tied to the Fade. If their friend, child, or mother were to pass, their grief could asunder a Circle."

She clenched her jaw as she listened, obviously fighting back what she wanted to say. She took a deep breath. "Both sides surrender their children to Chantry ran orphanarium to, what, continue the war? The bigotry?"

He took a breath. "Order must be maintained from the chaos."

She looked at him with pity-filled eyes. "You and I know two different versions of the story of Anu and Potema." Cullen quirked a brow, but she shook her head. "Thirteen that's...about right." She said, still trying to have this conversation.

Cullen rolled his shoulder to relax. "I didn't take on full responsibilities until I was eighteen. The order sees you trained and educated first."

"What did you learn?"

"Weapons and combat training." She gave an appreciative smile at his more upbeat tone. "Parts of the Chant must also be memorized by initiates." Her eyes fell to the book in front of her with a worried look. She lifted it as if get the weight of memory required to memorize. "Parts. Not all of it." He stated with a chuckle. "We also learned tactics, history, and increased mental focus."

She gave him a curious look for a moment but smirked. "I take it you enjoyed your training." She waved a hand to his office with a smirk.

He was curious what her look meant but waived it aside. "I wanted to learn everything." He said softly, seeing the understanding in her gaze. "If I was going to give myself to the order, I wanted to be the best I could."

"A model student then?" She asked with a chuckle.

One he returned. "I wanted to be. I'll admit, recanting the book of transfigurations while watching a candle burn down wasn't the most exciting task. My mind did sometimes wonder."

She made a mocking show of his confession by placing a hand over her heart and dropping her jaw. Cullen smiled at her show as she grew comfortable on the couch. "You said you took on responsibility at eighteen. What were your, or general Templar, responsibilities?"

"Templars do what they can to protect against the dangers of magic. Before the order left the chantry. That meant serving in the circle. They also track and hunt apostates or killing demons summoned by the weak and malicious."

She smirked at his phrasing. "You still believe mages are a threat. 'Best warriors in Thedas' and all that."

He arched a brow at her playful tone. "I've seen the best and the worse magic has to offer. I've seen the suffering and sometimes treated mages with distrust." He looked at her but dropped his eyes. "Sometimes without cause. It was" he breathed, knowing something had to change. "Unworthy of me. I try to look beyond it now." In her silence, he looked at her to see a soft smile curl on her lips. He smirked shifting in his chair. "Not that I want mages moving completely unchecked in our hold." He arched an accusatory brow at the woman who smiled. "Safeguards are required to protect people, including mages, from the machinations of demons and possible possession."

She paused before nodding in agreeance. "What were your 'Circle' duties?"

"There are rituals that require a full guard. Harrowing for instance. I've attended a few. Most of the time, the greatest danger is falling aslee-"

"What is a Harrowing?"

"Uh," he blinked. "Harrowing. The rite of passage for an Apprentice to become an Enchanter."

She lowered her brows. "Aye, but what is it? Walk across fire, transmutation, telekinesis, healing?"

He lowered his own brows at her words but shook it off. "A Harrowing is when a mage goes into the Fade and battles a demon. If they are successful, they are given the title of Enchanter." He noticed her mild confusion. "And cannot be made tranquil as they have proven that they can withstand against the temptations of demons."

"Hang on." She paused to formulate her confused thoughts. "So, mages are taken from the public in case of demon possession, but to prove they are worthy,-"

"And trained."

"And trained, they have to fight a demon?"

"Correct"

"So back to the self-fulfilling prophecy." She stated with more confusion as she moved her finger in a circle to accentuate her point.

He took an exhausted breath. "The argument has been made. But the Harrowing has proved us well for centuries. The mages that pass the Harrowing are stronger as they know that can resist or defeat demons at a moment's notice."

She looked at him with knowledgeable concern. Her mind seeing something that he didn't. She gave a heavy sigh, keeping her thoughts to herself. "What do Templars do most of the time?"

"Mostly maintain a presence on patrol or in the circle. Ready to respond if needed. Mages pretend to ignore that presence, but they watch us just as closely as we do them."

Her brow quirked in pity. "Both of you are trapped under false duress. Waiting for the other to snap."

"Something like that. Those situations do little to foster understanding from either side. However, a certain about of distance is required of both parties. As I mentioned, mage's emotions are tied to the fade. And a Templar must be ready to act in a moments notice with clear judgment in the event of possession."

"Sounds familiar." She said with a smirk. Her quickly arched brow and eyes dropping to his hands told her he was doing the same thing with her. "I've heard that Templars take vows though I've yet to find anything that indicates to what they are."

He chuckled at the idea. "Before you take your vows, you go through a vigil. You're supposed to be at peace, but your life is about to change."

"What do you mean?" He looked confused. "'Supposed' to be at peace. What change would happen that would make you question your beliefs and training? If you had been training for," she counted on her fingers quickly, "five years, what were your doubts?"

Cullen looked her over quickly and wondered just how much she already knew of the Templar order. He cleared his throat and spoke. "During the vigil, you're supposed to imagine the life that your vows will allow. To serve the Chantry means to abandon the desire for wealth or title or acknowledgment. To spend the rest of your life carried by your faith in the Maker. A life of service. To be the shield against magic and what it would mean to be a guardian of mages. Also to rid yourself of the desire of family less you should be taken advantage of by demons."

Uthreida was quiet as she reviewed his words. "You're both enslaved by the same yolk." She whispered, her eyes watching him with understood sorrow. "And both must undergo a Harrowing of your own making?" Cullen took a shaking breath and understood what she meant. He started to see the hidden connections in their lives that were culturally understood by most Thedosians. "Are people afraid of Templars?"

His eyes shifted to the windows, thinking of the reports he had received from Royoc in the Hinterlands where the base of the Mage Templar revolt started. The reports from the farmers, merchants. The Red Templars now terrorizing the citizens. "They do now."

She nodded slowly. "What happeneds after your vigil?"

His eyes drew back to her and he recentered himself. "Your" he stopped. Everything he had been hiding was about to come to light. He clenched his jaw, looking at his hands that had clenched against his will. He took a breath. She was going to find out one way or another. "After your vigil, you're given your first draft of lyrium. And it's power. Your life is changed after that."

She tilted her head, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat. "What is lyrium?"

He forced himself to breathe. Exhaling loudly as he looked away in thought. Each of his stated fears coming to a head as he would have to answer that question. "Lyrium is a mineral that is mined by the Dwarves. It's used in magic potions for the mages to help increase their mana and connection to the Fade. It's also used by Templars to strengthen their mental focus and nullify magic cast by the mages."

She smiled in excitement. "So you're a mage?"

"No."

"You use mysticism, amplified by a magic potion-"

"It's not magic."

"How do you know?" She said coyly.

"I would know."

"Because you're a Templar?"

"Yes."

She arched a playful brow. "A man, trained in battle with an emphasis in mental focus and fortitude, as well as collective understanding of esoteric and archaic aptitude, knowledgeable in citizens of oblivion, and has to use magic potions to amplify abilities. Sounds like a mage to me." Cullen scoffed. "Your Chantry lies. Of course they would lie to you about how 'magic is evil, you're a Templar, of course, you're not a mage.' It makes sense."

"It really doesn't."

She smiled victoriously. "Cullen's a mage. Cullen's a mage." She sang in a teasing tone.

"Stop that." He ordered loudly. She took a deeper breath indicating to sing it louder. He held up a warning finger to her. She paused. Looking over his scowl and what he could now call a sore spot, and relented. "I'm not a mage, it's not magic."

She gave a humored shrug. "Oh, aye, of course not." Her chuckle showing her sarcasm. "Can't have the hunter becoming the prey, now can we." She chuckled in her chest. "What will the others think?"

"I don't pull from the Fade."

She smiled, canting her head slightly. "No," she said, her eyes becoming more humored with each second. "You just pull from the Will in you to reinforce reality, don't you?"

"You have Templar and Seeker confused." He retorted with a brow.

She leaned back as if in victory. "You're a mystic."

"I don't know what that means." He stated quickly, crossing his arms at her.

She only smiled wider, leaning forward again with her elbows on her knees. "It means you can redirect magic. It means you could sense life. Bind souls. It means, with enough training, you could change the physical world. Just like the Maker wanted you to." He lowered his head, looking at her cautiously confused. He opened his mouth to speak, but all he could think was that she was insane. He snapped his jaw shut. "To be a mystic is to learn and discover the intricacies of the world. To see the threads of magic and the mind. To dance on the edge of Divine knowledge and madness."

"The madness is brought on by lyrium." He stated without thinking. He needed her to see this his way. So she could understand the world they lived in, not...whatever she was claiming.

She looked away in thought, her brows drawing and she pouted. "Your magic potion makes you go insane?" He took a breath and was cut off before he could speak. "Why would you risk that? There are other methods." She stated as if angered at history rather than him. "Why" she fisted her hands in frustration. "Who- that is" she sighed heavily, throwing herself back on the couch and propping her feet on the table. "At this point" she stated flippant, "of course it does." She made a sound as if she gave up trying to understand Thedas. Cullen watched her frustrated defeat at the whole idea of the land. "Are you?"

He looked up to see her looking squarely at him. "What?"

"Losing your mind? From the potion."

He gave a heavy sigh, hoping she would forget and just move on. He looked away for a moment. He noticed that she removed her feet from the table and leaned towards him, watching him, waiting for him to speak. Clearly knowing what he was about to say. "The lyrium itself isn't what causes the madness. It's...the addiction" he side-eyed her. Seeing her watching only him. "It's" he breathed, "going without." He rubbed his neck. "The Red Templars we face now take red lyrium. It's somehow increased their power but comes at a terrible cost of madness." Her eyes shifted, unable to connect the dots. "Lyrium grants Templars their abilities, but it controls us as well. Lyrium is highly addictive. The chantry controls the lyrium trade and thus, controls the Templars. Those cut off go mad. Others die." He clenched his jaw, feeling himself lean forward to hide from her. "I" he breathed. It had to be said. "No longer take it."

Uthreida was silent. Unmoving at his confession. He couldn't hear her breathe over his own heart beating in his ears. This was his weakness. His panic started to set when he wondered what she would do with the information. She'll be angry, kill the hold. Kill him. Worse, make him kill himself.

She moved slightly on the couch and he looked at her instantly. Ready to fight. Kill if he had to.

Her head was tilted in concern. Her eyes were softer and she reached a hand across the table but didn't touch him. "How are you?"

He looked at her with lowered brows. There wasn't any guile to her actions as her whole body reached towards him. Her eyes, her look, she was concerned for him. Worried. He felt an awkward chuckle rip through him as he looked away. The woman who has promised to kill him. The woman slays dragons and punches anyone who questions her morals. His wife...cared. About his mental capacity. "I was not expecting that." He said slowly, leaning back to sit upright in the chair.

She shot an annoyed look. "I'm not a complete monster, Cullen." Her scathing tone, juxtaposed to her statement and choices, made him laugh at the situation.

"Yes, I" he took a calming breath. All of his fears unfounded. "I can see that."

She sighed, shaking her head. "How are you though?"

He nodded in thought. "The symptoms come and go."

She remained silent as the candles flicked was the only passage of time. "And going without will kill you?"

He bit back his lips thoughtfully. "Eventually." He clenched his jaw, looking up at her.

She licked her lips in thought. "Knowing the consequences, why" she stopped, her clenched hands showing she didn't think this was an appropriate conversation for her. "Why did you stop?" Her ice-blue eyes looked between concerned and pride at him.

He lowered his eyes. He didn't deserve her pity. "After Kirkwall, I" he swallowed back the memories and clenched his hands. "I will not be bound to the order or that life. Something has to change. We have to change. And the Inquisition gives us the means to act where the Chantry could not. The Order" he sighed, rubbing his palms. "The aggressions between the Templars and mages were out of hand long before I arrived. But to see the madness, to see the self-fulfilling prophecies on both sides, something has to change. Our views, our policies, our methods have to change to allow healing both within and outside of the Circles. And for me, that leash, the change, is the lyrium." He looked at her to see if she understood. A soft, one-sided smile curled her face as she listened to him. There was a warmth to her smile that filled his core. If anything, he hoped she understood why he's trying. "Whatever the suffering. I endure it willingly. But," he looked up and met her eyes, a resolve being found in his voice. "I cannot allow the Inquisition to fall due to my dependence. I cannot allow you to walk over the forces when I am expected to command. Do you understand?"

She looked away quickly in thought. "No?"

He scoffed but understood her reasoning. "It means we've worked together for a while now. If it seems like I'm allowing you to go, let's say, on a hunting trip, without an escort, I'm probably suffering from withdrawals." He arched an accusatory brow with a friendly smirk that made her question something. "Also, if I have the occasional seizure" he let the sentence hang. Allowing her to connect the dots. "I have informed the Inquisitor. If my ability to lead has been compromised, I will be relieved from duty."

She looked at him for a time. Letting all of it sink in. She rubbed her neck with an embarrassed smile. "And my continued disregard for your authority only further accentuates the fact that you're compromised." He pointed at her to indicate she was right on track. She made an annoyed sound but smirked through it. "As my husband, I cannot allow you to lower your standards nor shall your reputation be finished because of me. As my sworn death, I am obligated to make sure you live through this war to meet me in battle. So" she took a deep breath, her eyes taking him in one inch at a time. "I will not blindly obey." She stated with conviction, cutting her hands in the air to make the point. "But, what can I do to help? Do you want my help?"

Cullen was stunned silent. This is not how he imagined this conversation going. Ever. He smirked, rubbing the palms of his hands together. "Actually, you already have." She looked comically confused at his statement. Licking his lips, he pointed to the tea set. "The honey." She looked at the said tea set then back at him with a smirk.

"I told you." She stated excitedly, slapping the table before them.

Cullen smiled at her jest, stifling his laughter. "It's done, really well. Some of the symptoms are nausea and headaches. The honey helps me getting my appetite back. Eating something helps quell some of the other symptoms."

"Good." She stated quickly, leaning back and resting her temple on a fist of the armrest. "Good."

They sat in silence, each looking at and watching the other with smiles on their faces. Simply basking in the understanding of the other. "You know, it's occurred to me" she stated flippantly but her smile widened into a grin. "I know absolutely nothing about you." He tilted his head with a mildly skeptical look. "I mean, I know your Ferelden" she counted on her fingers, "I know your well trained, I know you're a mystic Templar-"

"Allegedly."

"And you have mood swings. Oh, and no eye for armor. Other than that," Cullen tried to look annoyed at her constant poking of his armor, "I don't know anything."

He tried to keep the laugh back but only succeeded in covering his mouth. He rested his fingertips on his temple in annoyance but seemed to lose merit as he smiled. "What, specifically," he enunciated, "is wrong with my armor?"

She gave a dramatic look of judgment as she looked him up and down. "Well, let's start from the top." She leaned forward on the couch to point out specifics. "You're in the mountains. You turn the fur in when it's cold, you turn the fur out when it's hot. And given your usual pink nose, it's cold. Second, what are those?" She whined, using two fingers on each hand to indicate the hooks on his gorget. He was unwilling to admit that the lance rests were unnecessary as they did create a certain presence. "'I'm Commander Cullen'" she said in a lower voice with her mouth pointed down impossibly far to make fun of his usual serious expression. "'I don't like people. Hugs are for the weak. Stay away from me. Raise your shield.'"

Cullen noticed the hair falling over her shoulders also mocked his mantle. He tried to hide his face as he laughed at her interpretation. "Makers breath." He cursed between fits.

"'Makers breath.'" She repeated in her deep, mocking tone.

Cullen leaned forward in his chair, laughing at her. When he recovered, wiping a tear from his eye she seemed ready to move on. "The straps" she pointed to her chest to indicate his. "I get it. I do. But I don't understand it. Given the belting, you're pulling your breast plate to your neck, but the buckling looks like you're pushing the neckpiece up." Her hands made loose fists as she motioned her own chest in wild confusion. "I don't know what's being pulled and how and... I - I just don't get it. Back to the fur, what kind of animal is that? No animal that I know is that fluffy with that coloring- what are you doing?" She asked as he stood, his hand on the buckle of his belt.

He arched a brow, undoing the buckle with a smile. "Well, if some number generation blacksmith is going to render my armor, may as well get a proper assessment." He flicked her an annoyed brow as he lifted the belt on the back of the chair, careful that his sword didn't cause the chair to tip over.

She made a delighted squeal that made him look at her. She had an opened fingered hand covering her smile as she looked at him. "Keep going." She waved her fingers to him.

He tilted his head at her, reminding her of her proprieties even as he smirked at her eager display. He could tell she was teasing, but it was in a friendly manner. He removed the cloak and coat. He saw her smile like a predator. He tossed the cloak to her for inspection in her lap. She squealed again in delight as she held it to her chest as if she just won something. Cullen watched with a smile at her antics. She ran her hands over the fur. Her brows furrowed as if she tried to place it.

"Lion" Cullen helped.

She looked at him with wide fearful eyes. "Ha?" She looked at the fur again with larger questions.

"It's a big cat with a thick mane around its neck."

"I know what a lion is. Why? Why did you- wait" she looked up in thought. "I'm in Thedas." She said with a laugh and inspected the fur with less fear. Cullen arched a brow at her change. And she said he had mood swings. "Are these native to Fereldan?"

"Uh, no. They mostly live in the grasslands of Tevinter."

"How did you get it?"

"Uhh," he rubbed his neck when she looked up at him. "I bought it from some Qunari in Kirkwall. I thought it was...neat." He admitted lowly.

"Neat?" She asked with a smile. He looked away, feeling the heat return to his neck. "Alright well, let's take a closer look." Uthreida stood, throwing the furs over her shoulders like a prize as she approached. Cullen arched a brow seeing her in his furs. Some odd, misplaced sense of pride filled him as she stood before him, looking over his armor. She fingered the rivet that held the straps to his breastplate to the gorget. She shook her head, disappointed. She looked at his sides and sighed. "What?"

"This armor is not made for you." She poked between the plates and he could feel her finger poking a rib. "What did you do, buy a child's? The gapping gets thicker as you go up. You're too barrel chested for it." She fingered a buckle and groaned. "By Julianos, you can't even wear mail if you wanted to." She looked at him in shame. "You are aware-"

"There's a reason." He lifted some of the fabric from her shoulder to prove his point. He hid the weakness so someone couldn't spot them.

She gave an annoyed grunt, but her eyes caught something at his shoulders. She shoved a finger between the breastplate and the pauldron. "These aren't flush, Cullen. The overlap is fine but" she growled again. "You have an entire armory, over there." She waved her hand's in the general direction. "What, why-"

He smiled as she panicked and worried over his ill-fitting armor. "Because it's mine." He said with a sigh. Something in his tone made her look up at him with a look of inexcusable boredom. He resisted the urge to rub his neck in stress at her calculating eyes finding every fault with it. "It's the first set of armor, of anything, that's truly mine that wasn't given or issued to me by the order. Or the Inquisition."

"How sentimental." She looked disappointed as she kept looking him over. Shaking her head. She moved to his pauldron and vambrace. Taking a step back, he heard her chuckle to herself. He cocked a brow but she didn't look. "What?"

"The only thing you're truly worried about is arrows to the knee." She laughed again, throwing her head back. He didn't understand the reference and she pointed between the two of them. She slapped her hand against his plate and caught her breath. She looked him over again, still smirking. "That's it," she threw her hands up in surrender. "I'm buying you new armor. And boots."

He looked down with a snarl. "It's mine."

"That's nice." She said absently, taking a step back and looking him over him again. "Hm. Carved armor. Aye. Retrofitted for your little motif. Aye. That'll do you."

He held his hands in question. "What?"

"Ha?" He shook his head for her to explain. "What kind of metal is your helmet?" Cullen pursed his lips, crossing his arms. Watching her, in his cloak and furs as her red hair blended in the black. "Quicksilver, right "

He rolled his eyes. "Yes."

She drummed her fingers on her chin as she looked at him and smiled. "Aye. Anyways," she walked past him, slipping the cloak from her shoulders as she passed it back to him. "You never did answer my question." She retook her seat on the couch. Cullen folded the cloak over the back of the chair and retook his seat before her.

"What was the question?" He asked, scratching his head in earnest lack of memory.

"What do you do for fun?"

Cullen felt his throat catch as he looked her over. He puffed his cheeks, unsure of the change in conversation. He looked around his office. "Read?"

She rolled her eyes. "That's everyone's past time. What do you do for fun?" She emphasized the last word for his understanding.

Cullen arched a brow at her condescension but let it slide. He waved an indifferent hand. "I don't know." He hadn't really had any off time since the start of the Inquisition. "Chess, I guess." She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. "A board game." He answered before she could ask. "It helps to simulate military movements on a board with twenty-six pieces."

She lowered her brows. "Kings Table?" She asked then smiled. "You play kings table?"

He found himself smirking in awe at the excitement of the woman. "You play chess?" The barbarian? Plays chess? He wanted to laugh.

She heard his disbelief and pouted quickly. "I will have you know, I've won many alehouse brawls because of that game." She stated with a charming smile. She waved her hands at him quickly. "Go get it."

All he could do was look at her with a skeptical expression. "You really want to play?"

"I do." She leaned in over the table and whispered. "I want to see if my commander knows how to lose graciously." She gave a savage wink at her own impending victory.

Cullen smiled at her audacity. Uthreida barely has a plan when she slays dragons. There's no way she has any mind for tactics. "As you say." He said lowly, his own victorious smile playing on his lips as he stood. He walked to the bookshelf and grabbed the upturned board and the hollowed-out book used to hold the pieces. "Black or white?" He asked, setting the board on the table between them.

She paused in thought as he took his seat. "Black." He nodded, opening the book to reveal the carved pieces of the game. He started to set up his side of the board in white. "Umm," he looked up to see her smirk uncomfortably as she looked at the pieces in the box, his pieces, and the board.

Cullen arched a brow and smirked. "Problem?"

Her eyes kept going between the pieces and the board. Making an odd sound as she looked at it. "Why are there so many pieces?" Cullen blinked slowly at her causing her to clear her throat and pull back. She swallowed back her pride. "I'm starting to think we play very different games."

He looked her over, resting his cheek on his hand. "You don't say." His tone was deadpanned as he looked at her.

She quietly laughed at her embarrassed humility, keeping her face from him. She leaned back, her head was turned away from the board as she eyed it, exposing her throat to him and making an odd sound as if deciding to do something. Cullen smirked at how awkward and amusing she was when she was unsure of a situation. For someone who usually ran at things head-on, it was refreshing to see this side.

"How do you play?" She finally asked. She sat properly and seemed eager to learn something.

He felt his smirk become a smile at her willingness to try something new. And looking at the situation now, she was debating on learning as she would lose and given the display of hubris, would be as embarrassing as whatever that was. He licked his lips and pulled his revered mother from the box. "Set up your pieces opposite to mine."

She did as instructed. Cullen went over the rules, movements, and terms that are used in the game. She would ask questions in regards to some rules but was able to equate to real-world scenarios, such as sacrificing a legion to pay the ransom for a queen.

The first three matches were slow as he allowed her time to learn movements of the pieces rather than actually win. Using odd scenarios so she could use and learn the rules to her advantage. He smirked when she mentioned the ease of the game.

In the fourth match, he employed tactics. In six moves he had her checkmated. She looked frustrated but he only grinned. She huffed and reset her board.

He won in twelve moves. She cursed and called him a cheat, but he could see the smile on her lips as she blustered to learn.

In the next game, she dragged it out as long as possible leaving her with only a pawn, a revered mother, and her king as Cullen was down to his queen, a knight, a rook, and his king. He could guess her strategy as soon as she thought of it. She was trying to limp across the board to exchange her pawn for a queen but had to drag the king behind her to keep the game going. Each one of his moves resulting in "check", "check", "check." In a move to destroy her morale and decimate the board, his rook took her revered mother. "Check."

"You are just-." She growled, hiding her smile and laughter behind her hands. She looked at the board, she was four spaces away from the edge but doubled her turns as she had to move the pawn or king each turn.

"You know," Cullen said with a merciful smile, "you could just surrender."

"No." She quickly retorted, moving her king out of the position of his rook and in front of her pawn.

He moved his queen, his knight set up to take in two turns for checkmate. "Check."

"Stop it."

"Give up."

"No."

"Uthreida, you're gaining no ground."

"I can do this."

He gave a heavy sigh. "You can't just force your way through this."

"Watch me." She stated with her usual stubborn pride and moved her king exactly where he wanted.

He moved his knight. "Checkmate."

"Arkay's cock." She exclaimed, throwing her hands over the board and covered her face in defeat as she laughed. She looked at him from behind her hands. "I'm going to win."

"Eventually." His condescending tone wasn't missed by her as he reset the board. She held her hands out like she was going to choke him but pulled back in the same second. He felt a chuckle brew in his chest. "As a child, I used to play this game with my sister. She would always get this stuck up grin on her face whenever she won, which was all the time."

"You don't say." She retaliated, moving her white pieces on the board.

He arched a knowing brow at her curled lips. "My brother and I practiced together for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won." He was smiling as he relived the memory of Mia, her curling golden hair and dropped jaw at his flawless checkmate and the pride that filled him. He felt his heart grow heavy at the memory of Mia. "Between serving the Templars and the Inquisition, I haven't seen them in years." He thumbed the queen before placing it on the board. "I wonder if she still plays."

Uthreida was silent. He looked up to see her gently smiling at him. All anger of losing gone as she watched him. "I didn't know you had siblings."

He felt his stomach clench at her look. But couldn't place why. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Two sisters and a brother."

"Where are they?"

"South reach." She arched a brow but didn't speak. "It's an Arling to the south of Denerim." She nodded in understanding. "They moved there after the blight."

"Do you write them?" She asked, moving her knight before her lines. Good, she's learning.

"Not as often as I should." He moved his mother's pawn forward.

"You should. Family is very important. You never know when will be the last." She said. There was a hint of something in her voice as she spoke. Cullen looked up to see a fond smile spread across her lips even as her eyes were cast away in memory.

"What of you? Any siblings?" He moved his pieces.

Her hand paused over the board, not in indecision, but something else. She moved her pawn forward. "No."

Cullen lowered his brows. "You've mentioned sisters at some point. Didn't you?" She looked at him quickly in alarm but lowered her eyes just as fast. He had no idea what that was about. "Forgive me, I must have miss heard."

"No," she said quietly. "I Uh," she swallowed back something. In her silence, Cullen already knew the answer. She licked her lips quickly. "I no longer have my sisters." She jutted her chin but kept her eyes on the board. "It's your turn." She took a breath and rolled her shoulders to relax.

Cullen looked her over, the smile she was wearing earlier was gone. Her eyes distant in the past when she was so present. "I'm sorry for your loss." He said softly, placing his piece on the board.

Uthreida popped her knuckles as she looked at the board. A tick he noticed when she was emotionally uncomfortable. To appear stronger when she wasn't. She moved her piece. "Why don't you write them?" She asked casually, finally meeting his eyes.

"I lack the time." His admittance was only half true.

"Make time." Her lowered gaze made the words sound more like a warning than an order.

Cullen leaned back in his chair, looked at the board, then at her now curled up legs. Hiding from him. He bit his lip and sighed. "You know," he paused, trying to find the words to make this work. "I don't know anything about you either." She looked at him with confusion then smiled. Ready to use her own words against her. He held up a hand as if ready to count and saw her grin at him. He put his hand down and smirked. "What do you do for fun?"

"Slay dragons, of course." She said playfully, though her tone was off.

He smirked, being able to slowly pull her from her shell. "You've seen what I do. Come on. What does Uthreida do when she's stressed?"

She looked playfully confused. "I drink." He arched a brow. "No, seriously, if you want to have this conversation, I demand a drink."

He smirked, standing he knew had two bottles of wine from Josephine were in his desk. "Is Antivan Red alright?" He asked walking back to the table. She made a shrug as he picked up two cups from the tea set and set the bottles down on the table. Uthreida broke the wax of one. He noticed the cork and stood to get a screw for the wine. By the time he found it, he heard the pop of the bottle. Cullen smirked as Uthreida was pouring the wine. On the table was a knife with the cork on the end of it. Of course, she had a method for alcohol. He took a seat, watching her fill up his cup.

She arched a brow, looking skeptical. "Are you sure?"

He held up a hand to stop her. "It's fine. Provided it's not illegal, I'd like to know more about you. Please."

She gave a heavy sigh and took a deep drink. She looked at the cup. "You gave me wine?"

"What do you think Antivan Red is?" he asked pointingly with an open hand.

She took a deep breath at her cup then at him. She shook her head with a smile. "Cullen, I love wine. But I can't drink wine. I" she rubbed her neck in embarrassment. "I'm sorry for what you're about to witness." She chuckled under her breath as she took another drink. She stood and retrieved the lute she found under the couch. She held it for him to see with a smirk. He watched her as she placed it over her lap and started to strum the chords. Tuning it every so often. She leaned back on the couch, letting her fingers fill his silent office with music that seems so foreign and yet so similar. The steady beat of the four to six chords in repetition on the lute.

She sang of peace. Her soft soothing song filling the room forcing him to lean forward to hear her better. Her voice gradually became boisterous but controlled as she spoke of the war that came. The injustice of her people as they banded together to defeat the enemy at the gates filled his heart with hope. As she sang, Cullen could feel the hairs along his body stand up. He knew she could sing, but didn't realize how good. He had heard her in camp and in the Mire. But sitting here, with her so close, it seemed more private. An intimate sharing between them. Watching her fingers move delicately along the strings. And for the first time, in a long time, he didn't feel the subconscious pull for the lyrium song he once craved.

How did she do that? How did she silence that part of him?

"No shackles can hold us, whether moonstone or gold." She took another drink of her wine and he followed suit. "One more." She said excitedly as she bounced in her seat. Cullen watched with a smile as she strummed a different song. It was slower, but the notes were higher during the strumming. Her song of ravens made him smile. It was methodical as she played. Watching her fingers and singing from low in her throat. A soft smile curling on her lips as she rocked to keep the beat of the music. She sang of thought and memory and their interrelated relationship. But he was entranced with her lips. He could hear her, but he couldn't make out what she was signing. It was both unnerving and calming as her voice grew as she sang of the fear that one would never return. But was still filled with the gratitude that it was in his life from her lute. That while one may get lost, they return home now.

She slowly strummed the cords. Indicating the end of the song. Cullen clenched his jaw to not show anything on his face. Looking at him quickly as if to gauge his reaction. She kept herself busy, ready to hear his review as she strummed a few more chords passively.

"Who taught you that?" he asked softly.

Her eyes softened as she smiled at a memory. "My father." She looked at him, the same soft features circled her face as she looked at him.

And his stomach clenched again. He looked away, realizing their game was abandoned at this point. Cullen licked his lips and leaned forward. "I'd like to know your story." He said softly. The heat of his request burning his stomach and threatened to consume him in her silence.

She swirled the wine in her cup with a thoughtful smirk. "It's quite the story. Will you hold my wrist the whole time?"

Cullen chuffed a laugh at her implication. "Do I need to?"

"Only if you admit that it's your end game." She gave a playful smile over her cup as she took a drink. Cullen was inclined to meet her goading but needed to know something before starting the interrogation. He needed her to speak freely so he could question later with more evidence. "You first." She tilted her head slightly, the same smirk curved her lips. Allowing him to lie first.

Cullen scoffed. "I asked first." He looked up to meet her eyes, hoping his juvenile proposition was met.

"You'll act in good faith." She said with a grin.

He shook his head with a smirk. He's learned enough of her tactics to know when he lost a battle of will. He sat back in his chair and smirked. "I'm from Honnleath. It's about a two days ride southwest of here. My family is in South Reach on the other side of Ferelden. My father was a trapper and my mother spent her time helping the garden at the local Chantry. My siblings, Mia, Bryson, and Rosaline all grew up in Honnleath." He waved it off as if it was nothing.

But she only smirked. "Tell me about Honnleath."

Cullen found himself stumbling over memories of the village and his home. "It's considered the highlands, but not the mountains. I grew up just outside of the village. Da didn't want to smell too much like humans when he had to hunt. He taught us how to hunt, trap, skin, tan, preserve, and smoked meats that he would catch. We learned how to bleach skulls and various other little bits. Bryson is apparently quite the skilled hunter in South Reach with the Brecilian first being so close."

"Are your parents still alive?"

"I" he lowered his brows momentarily at her question. "No." He sighed, lacing his fingers together. "They died shortly after the move to South Reach. Mia believes it was due to the blight."

"I'm sorry." She offered softly. Cullen gave a thankful nod to her. "What's your favorite memory of Honnleath?"

He looked back. Anytime with his siblings were the warmer ones but he chuckled. "When my mother would visit the Chantry, there was this statue in the center of the village. It was kneeling but looked like it was screaming at the sun. We would always play on it as no one said not to. I would use it as a sparring partner from time to time." He laughed at the memory of the statue as he practiced the swings the Templars showed him against a humanoid partner that wouldn't run and tell ma when he accidentally hit too hard. Cullen looked up to see her smiling at the same memory as him.

"I'd like to see it. This statue of yours that you valiantly fought."

He chuffed, realizing he leaned forward during their talks. "According to Liliana, the statue was actually a Golem that is no longer there because it's a Hero of the Fifth Blight." He gave a shrug at the seemingly inconsequences of the universe. "She said that the golem hated Honnleath and wanted to squish the people of the village. So, it's probably best not seek it out."

"In case it remembers?" She added playfully.

"Among other reasons." He said with a smile. "After Honnleath, I was moved to West Hill Academy where I underwent my Templar training. And before you ask, no. King Alistair underwent his Templar training at the Twin River Academy in Redcliff. I was sent to Highever."

She nodded slowly. "Highever is north, aye? Why were you sent so far from home?

"It was the only opening they had."

She moved her hands as if the question logistics. He chuckled at her understanding. "After taking my vows I was transferred to the Ferelden Circle, then Greenhill Chantry for a time, then Kirkwall as Night Captain for seven years. And then Knight Commander of Kirkwall for two years. What about you then?" She looked guilty and took a heady drink. "I went on good faith, Uthreida" she scrunched her face at it. "Don't walk away now."

She passed him a cup and leaned back on the sofa. "Are you sure? It's a lovely evening. I'd hate to ruin it."

He took a drink of the wine with a smirk. "A lovely evening?" He asked quietly.

"Aye. We're not at each other's throats, the candles are giving off quite the romantic glow, and I'm learning things. Like this incredible new game." She opened her hand to the table with a charming smile. "Speaking of, whose turn is it?"

"Don't deflect."

She made a face but drank her wine. She moved to pop her knuckles again, as she gathered her thoughts. "I'm from Riften. It's okay if you don't know where that is." She waved a hand but continued. "My family had a farm outside of the city gates. Wait, let me go back. So, my da's side of the family were all blacksmiths. The Strong-Helms maintain the forge, Scorched Hammer, in Riften. It's been passed down from generation to generation and is currently being forged by my Uncle, Balimund the Younger. Wait. So Balimund the Greater married Svanhvit who had three children but only Uncle Balimund survived. When Grandmother Svanhvit passed, Grandpa Balimund married Grandmother Herja. A fire-kissed savage woman who was, honestly, very nice to me. If you think I'm barbaric" she lifted her cup wide to the heavens and drank with a smile. "So, Grandmother Herja had two boys: Branyolf and Brandaliar. Uncle Balimund runs the family forge, Uncle Branyolf is the Master thief, and Brandaliar, my father, actually ran away from home to join the bard's college in Solitude." She lifted her hands, spreading her fingers to show the diverging paths of her family. "So, my da is a classically trained bard. He spent his youth traveling, singing, going on adventures, having the time of his life. And then Grandpa Balimund gets sick. Da comes back to Riften either attend a funeral or get told he's abandoned his family." Cullen arched a brow. "Branyolf's in Riften. It'll make sense. Hang on. So, um" she gave a breath and took another drink as Cullen noticed that this a story she didn't share often. "Grandpa passes, and da meets my ma, Starvaska. They travel for a time but return back to Riften because," she pointed at herself with a large grin. Cullen smiled at her method of storytelling, resting his head on his fist, listening to her voice, and getting lost on how her lips don't exactly move right with the words she's saying.

"Me ma's side of the family are farmers. Both of them lacking marketable skills, they go and move in with Grandpa Valdin. My father starts to work the farm with my Grandfather and me ma. Then my sisters Eddajorid and Horshvita were born. Utha, Edda, Hura. So-"

"Utha?" Cullen lifted his head as she counted the three names. She looked at him at the sound of her name. He smirked as she rolled her eyes. Cullen took a deep drink and relaxed in his chair again. "Utha." He said lighter. A shortened name that she might be comfortable with. She gave an annoyed look and it told him it would be a name he could only use in the privacy and not in public. "My name was almost Ulga in honor of my Mother's mother."

He made a disgusted face at the harsh and cacogenic name. "I think I prefer Uthreida."

"Aye," she said with a chuckle, "as do I. Where was I? Anyway, Uh, mother didn't survive Hura's birth." She swallowed back her story but found that she still paused, even for respect.

"I'm sorry."

"You should save your apologizes for the end and not" she moved her hands several times and it was hard to discern what she meant. "So, ma passed, and then Grandpa Valdin passed. So, it was just us three girls and da. And da wasn't very good at farming. He tried. He did. But, Um." She took a breath and scratched her head in thought.

"What did you grow?"

She looked at him as if remembering he was even in the room. "Leeks, potatoes. Mostly cabbages. Anyways, Sometimes da would drop us off at my Uncle Balimund's so he could make the extra coin while singing in the Bee and Barb weekly. The local alehouse. We would learn basic skills like tanning and Balimund would let us pump the bellows. Sometimes, his wife would teach us cooking and always saved us sweet treats on our visits." She smiled forlornly at her hands as she spoke. But she shrugged off the memory. "So, how do I put this?" She took a drink of her wine and refilled the cup. "And then, when I was about ten," she held up a hand to stop herself. "Riften has the temple of Mara. And what you can do is sell you, that's not a good phrase. Well considering. So, you can pay to have your child enrolled in the acolyte program where they will teach you how to be a perfect spouse, basically." Cullen lowered his brows, trying to follow and guess where she was going with this. "And they will teach them how to be perfect, and run a business, and run a home and weave. You know, everything I can't do. It's an expensive match-making service so that the family can triple or quadruple their dowry from the training they would receive from the temple of Mara."

"Hang on" Cullen sat up with a smile. "You-" he smiled at the idea of it as she drank from her cup. She was trained to be the perfect wife and now hunts dragons and makes his life a nightmare. He took a deep breath. "Go ahead."

"So Uncle Balimund married Aunt Astrid. And according to the requirements for the program, a family member of the same sex must patron incoming initiates. As luck would have it, my Aunt goes missing three days before the program starts. And they didn't refund my father's gold because no one could find her body. And both of my grandmothers had passed away a few years prior. And at the time, I was excited because my Da had saved all this gold for the program and we were going hungry and now with Aunt Astrid missing" she sighed. "I Uh, may have, Um, scorned Mara in my anger." She said with a pained smile at Cullen. She swallowed and kept going. "As we got older, I notice that there's less and less food on the table and my sisters are hungry. And I can tell my Da is getting, Uh" she rolled her shoulder, "resentful." She looked away with clenched teeth. "So, at thirteen, I ran away."

Cullen lifted his head slowly. Seeing everything behind her smiles. "Your father beat you and your sisters."

"What?" Her tone was incredulous and a story. "No. He was grooming me for early marriage. As I got older and realized what he was doing and what marriage really was, I didn't want it. I didn't want to be saved by some man I never met with a one-time guarantee for my family with nothing in my future except making children and pleasuring a man who bought me. I wanted to work and make my own way. But because of laws, my father could marry me off at fourteen but not deliver until I came of age. I wanted to be independent. To be self-reliant. I wanted my sister's success to be their success. I wanted the adventure that he spoke of in his youth. But I couldn't leave my sisters behind because when I come of age, I become the head of the family for that generation. " She shook her head at him. "I was punished, aye, but he never maliciously beat me." Her brows furrowed at him. "He couldn't." She said softly. "He couldn't display me with bruising." Cullen raised his brows to the comment and she noticed. She made an exhausted sound. "Potential suitors would come by the farm to meet. My father was always in the room and I was clothed at all times."

Cullen folded his hands over his lap. "He tried to sell you like a horse. He was grooming you in hopes that he could increase the dowry."

She looked at him quickly before looking at the candles again. "Aye." She took a sip and sighed. "Anyways, I ran into the Rataways to find my Uncle Branyolf. He was always kind, always seemed to have gold, always seemed to speak of his own adventures, and my father refused to be associated with him, so" she shrugged. "I...became a thief. Which only inspired my father's ire in me." She jut her jaw forward for a second. Taking another drink from her cup. "I spend three years training with the thieves. I would send most of my stipend back with my sisters to make sure they had food and supplies. So they wouldn't get" she have a heavily implied shrug "either." She sighed. "So, I'm sixteen, traveling Skyrim, taking all the septum's I can get. I'm young. Irrational. Just full of pent-up rage and fear. And I'm just" she sighed in anger. "So fucking stupid. I'm in Windhelm. Working a job. And I find an unlocked door to keep from the snow for the night." She downed her cup and refilled it. "Inside, there's this kid, with a body, and candles, stabbing the floor." She gave an awkward look to Cullen like it was red flags. Cullen lifted his head with wide eyes. All of that sounds like a summoning circle. She's not possessed. Rylen confirmed. "This kid looks at me, in dark leather armor, face coverings, and low hood. The kid was trying to summon the Brotherhood. The assassin guild. He wanted Greta the Kind assassinated." She sighed. "For back story, Greta was the orphanirium mother in Riften. Orphaniriums get so much gold a month per kid in the home. And she went out of her way to make sure the kids were never adopted while barely seeing to they were fed, clothed, or healthy. She" Uthreida choked on her words. She took a drink and Cullen saw her hand was shaking as she did. "After my ma passed, she started to have conversations with my da. After I didn't enter the Temple, she started to make visits to our house. We could tell my da wanted his old life back but was too proud to abandon his responsibilities. Because of this, she haunted me and I feared for my sisters. I wanted to believe that my da would never give us to her but-" she took a shaking breath, clenching her fists and teeth. "So the assassin guild grabs me by the collar for stealing their kill and claimed I belonged to them now."

Cullen's eyes went wide as he looked at her. She took a long, audible sip of her wine, watching him with the same caution he had. Cullen pushed his chair back. The legs screeched against the wood floor. He quickly eyed the door for an escape as he began to swallow his heart at the realization that his soldiers haven't interrupted him once tonight. A part of him didn't believe what she was saying. Another part knew that she couldn't lie. And she made the statement so casual that it was almost humorous to admitting to being an assassin.

How can she be so comfortable with that?

She was a thief.

She was an assassin

Is an assassin?

She doesn't act like it. He felt his heart hammer in his ears and the panic overflow his body as he looked at her. She preached of honor. She demanded respect. She's concerned with a warrior's death. How is, how-

Cullen took a deep drink of his wine but paused before swallowing. His eyes going back to her innocent looks and revealed history. He spit the wine back into the cup politely.

She bent forward laughing quietly at his actions. "If you get sick tomorrow, it's because of the alcohol, not because I poisoned you."

Cullen cleared his throat putting the cup on his knee as he tried to understand what she revealed. He took a breath, making sure to check his tone. "You were an assassin?" He asked cautiously. Noticing her knife still on the table with the wine cork on it.

"Once."

He took a deep breath to bite back the panic that was pumping in his veins. He licked his lips quickly. "Go on." His expression of awkward conversation and intent listening.

She gave a deep breath, seeming pleased with his choice to listen. "I spent a few years with the Brotherhood because I was already trained in stealth, lock picking, and archery. But I owed both guilds to pay for my training. I would give six months with one and six with the other to pay off my debt. Let's see, five years ago, putting me at twenty-two, I was on my way back to Riften to work with the thieves. I pass my old house. I don't know if it was nostalgia or loneliness, but I stopped by." She finished slower. A hand holding one arm as she looked only at the table in memory.

"Edda had become my Uncles blacksmith apprentice. She made" Uthreida picked up the knife from the table, removing the cork from the blade. The knife wasn't decorated but looked like a standard belt knife. "Hura was too young and still working the farm with my da. And then, da came home. He had some, choice words at my presence and occupation." She looked ashamed for a moment, but it slowly blinked away. "There was a knock at the door." His eyes drew back to her at her dream-like tone as she drank her cup empty. "I saw the sword pierce his gut as Imperial armor moved into our home. I tried to protect them but" she sealed her eyes, hiding her face from him. Breathing through the memories so her tears wouldn't fall. "I was trained in stealth, not combat. And against Imperial soldiers" she exhaled at what he assumed was her failure. "When I came to" she sniffed, "with the house on fire and my da's body lying motionless. I almost died looking for them, letting the pain drive me on." She ran a thumb down the scar on her cheek. "I tracked them down. I found their encampment. I found my sisters" her throat sealed and she had to swallow to speak. "Tied to the tent. Beaten, naked, covered in blood. Their throats-." Her brow furrowed and she closed her eyes. Her hunched shoulders on herself to make herself smaller to the situation as she mourned their death again. Cullen stayed quiet, letting her process and finish. Getting exactly what he wanted. When her eyes opened, there was a fierce determination written on her face. "I slaughtered the camp in my rage. The ten legionaries fell to my daggers. But the legate knocked me unconscious again. I don't know why they didn't kill me the second time, but I woke up on a cart to Helgan. I was told my charge was crossing the border illegally when they couldn't say they kidnapped and rapped little girls and I sought revenge. I was sentenced to be executed." She looked at him as if it was the end of her story.

Cullen took a deep breath, letting it sink in for a moment that she had no one left. That her life was one disappointment and failure after another. And that after being so jaded by life, was still able to smile. "How old were they?"

She lowered her eyes. "Fifteen and sixteen."

Cullen emptied his cup, lowering his eyes. He remembered what he was doing at that age. Surpassing some of the newer recruits, staying awake late to memorize the chant and prayers. Devouring history. But he was safe in the cathedral. So young. Too young. He swallowed back his empathy to look at her. Something changed. Had to. She doesn't act or think like an assassin. What changed? "You're not done yet." He said softly. "That was only half, isn't it?"

She gave a smirk and refilled her cup. She took a sip and nodded. "I laid my head on the block, ready to see my sisters again when a dragon appeared and started to destroy Helgan. Getting out of Helgan was pure chaos. I followed the Storm Cloaks because fuck the Empire. Tolfdir and I made it to River Wood but tasked me with going to Whiterun to inform the Jarl of the dragon. He passed me off to his mage who wanted me to recover a rock. I said 'that's stupid, how much am I getting paid. I agreed with payment of half now, half later. I got the rock and was getting ready to leave when 'ahh, dragon attack,'" she mimicked crowds screaming in fear. "So, me being me, said fuck that. But Irileth grabbed me by the collar and dragged me to the watchtower. So, this is the second time I've ever seen a dragon. Aye? I'm pelting it with arrows, from the watchtower, because I'm not getting close to that thing. We finally kill it, and I absorb the soul and the guards looked at me saying 'your dragon born'."

She looked like she could see the guard and is holding the actual conversation with them. She looked behind herself, then back in the space of his office to show where the guard was in her memory. She pointed to herself to conform to a questioning look. "'You need to go to Hirothgarr.'" She said in added tone to mimic the guard.

"Aye" she said normal, pointing a finger at the memory, "but first. I get paid for doing my part to slay the dragon but it's a wee bit light for travel back to Riften. So, I. acquired...an heirloom. And got caught. But I was able to evade the guards." She smiled, using her hands to show how she did it. "I sneaked past them and make to the rear of Jorrvaskr. I can hear the guards to my left and get ready to dash right when I see it. The largest Nord man you've ever seen. I'm in awe, of this...mountain.. and I'm watching him with his thick armor and two-handed weapon as he's watching me, leather armor, head and a half shorter, with daggers and a bow." She paused, her eyes on a different part of the room to dramatize the memory. "I hear the guards approach and he lunges, I grab my dagger, but he pins one hand above me and palms the blade. He leans down, and kisses me." She laughed. "The guard comes, politely clears his throat and moves on. This mountain" she spat, "leans back and scoffs. And in his hand is the heirloom I just stole." Cullen found himself smiling at her frustrating story. "And he looks at me, aye, and goes "I hear'" she mocked in a deep voice, " 'the Dragonborn's a thief. Tell HIM the Companions have an opening'." She growled but still smiled at the memory.

"I go back to Riften, without the heirloom, tell Branyolf and Balimund what happened to my family but fail to tell them of the dragon. I wanted to cast it aside. Maybe if I pretended it wasn't real, it would go away. Meanwhile, we discover the thieves are being infiltrated and the previous guild master betrayed us. And now, all the stories of honor, and duty, and history and the gods from my father come flooding back. As I stood before the Twilight Sepulcher, on the brink of making a pact with Nocturnal" Cullen sat up, "I tell Branyolf. I showed him what I could do. That I was the last dragon born. And he, being a Nord, knew the stories as well. He knew what it meant. So, Branyolf released me from the guild. He said I needed to fulfill my destiny. That my place wasn't in the sewers, it was with Kings. That I needed to make my Da proud. So," she took a deep breath. "I went back to Whiterun. And I hired the mountain to teach me honor, the ways of the warrior, how to become the hero the people needed." She looked at him, smiling. Hoping this part of the story satisfied his wonder of her change.

"Farkas and I traveled all over Skyrim. Helping, training, learning. He" she smiled softly as her eyes glazed over. Her hand grasping the end of her necklace under her shirt. Cullen lowered his gaze. That was her lover. She sighed. "We were able to broker peace talks, but at a price. Ulfric wouldn't attend unless he had my word of service if they failed. And seeing as how the other side was the Empire, and how I pray to Talos, I agreed." She grimaced. "We got Tullius and Ulfric to agree on peace. Finally, I could fulfill my destiny. But" she rolled her hand, taking a drink, "we got a letter. An encampment of Storm Cloak Soldiers was massacred in East March by Imperial Soldiers. So, the war was back on. Already aligning myself to Ulfric, and with Farkas being a Companion and nonpolitical, I reported to Windhelm to join the cause."

She paused as if to have the time frame. "We were about three-quarters of the way through the campaign, I'm making a name for myself and was being recognized by Ulfric and the soldiers gaining some ire from the enemy. After sacking Whiterun, I was pulled aside by the Brotherhood. They wanted me to either pay my debt in full or conduct a contract. After asking how much gold was still owed, I took the contract because I couldn't cover it and I wanted to be free of them. So that I could walk this path. To make my Da proud." She took another heavy breath and ran a hand through her hair. "The contract was the Emperor." Cullen arched a brow. She failed. She had to. "Come to find out, it was a setup. Astrid, not my Aunt, a different one. Astrid, the guild master, set me up. Apparently, if you're the reason for the ferocity of the opposing army, you get a bounty. She tipped the Imperials where I was but they double-crossed her. They killed off most of the guild. Nazir and Babette were able to relocate when Nazir passed me a missive. It was a receipt of contract. It said 'East March camp. Fourteen personnel. Wear Imperial armor.' Signed by the blue bear seal." She looked at him and saw his confusion. Though in truth, he had been rather confused since she started talking about her culture. "Ulfric's sigil is a blue field with a white bear." She sighed, clenching her jaw. "He killed his own men to ensure that I joined his army and kept his war going."

"Why?"

She breathed again. "I wasn't supposed to survive Sovngarde."

He lowered his brows in thought. "If you alone were destined to kill the dragon, to be loved by your gods, he outplayed you to win his crown. To ensure his victory before you died."

She nodded. "He did. I hope you understand why I fight you so often. It's not because I enjoy it. It's because I have blindly followed. Because I didn't see another way." She looked at him. The red rim of her drooping eyes told him she was drunk but her sheepish smile was one of regret and apology.

"After the war, I returned to Whiterun. Farkas had to run to Riften and I went along. It started to rain and we came across a cave." Her hand went back to her necklace and Cullen knew what came next. "We saw movement and-" she closed her eyes again. Longer than before. Breathing deeper, shakier than before. "He got in front of me." Her voice was sealing off but she kept pressing on. "Blood mages." She exhaled. "I carried him back. When his brother found out." Her hand moved to her hair to pull it to one side. "Vilkas beat me within an inch of my life and I let him. Watching the other Companions pull him off with swollen eyes" she shook her head. "It was my fault. His brother-" she stopped breathing, biting her lips back to keep her chin from wavering. Cullen felt his heart squeeze at her story. "I spent the next few months finishing his final task. And drunk." She scoffed. "Not much of a hero, I know. But I wanted to mourn before I had to die."

"What was the task?"

She blinked slowly. Seeing something in her mind. "Building our home" her voice cracked. She looked away, swallowing what she could. She took her cup and dumped the remaining wine on the ground. She wiped her face with a hand and filling her cup again.

Cullen could see from the candles that the bottle was practically gone and he was still on his second cup. "If you weren't supposed to survive-"

"It was about hope." She said softly. "Purpose." She scoffed. "He knew I was losing faith and he only did it to keep his promise. So I finished it. To ensure it stayed kept. And if I'm being honest, I hate my homes for the memories they carry. With and without him. But they are mine. So, I endure." She took a depreciative drink of her wine and took a deep breath.

"One night, the vampires grew bold and tried to attack Whiterun. I heard the commotion, drunk and unarmored, I joined the fray. Letting my anger and frustration out on them. And just when I thought we won, I looked at Adrianne in victory, only to see their sword cleave her chest." She shook her head with a jutting jaw of determination. "I decided to end this. That no one should undergo the pain I did. Ulfberths grieved war cry was deeper than any drum and shook the hearts of all who heard it. So, I went to Castle Dawn Guard and met with Isran and Serana. Together, we culled the blood mage...overlord? I don't know what you would call it." Cullen arched a brow, unsure of what she was talking about, but she didn't notice. "I went back to Whiterun and was interrupted by a bunch of cultists who claimed to serve the real Dragonborn in Solstheim. I waved it off and kept going. Until I received a missive requiring my presence in Windhelm to attend the Moot. At the urging of my King", she smiled widely as edicts would dictate " I went to Windhelm, and somehow, ended up on a boat." She gave a chuckle. "In hindsight, I should've gone."

"What's a Moot?" Cullen asked.

"It's the process of electing a new king when an heir hasn't been named. Ulfric stacked the Jarls in his favor. If I had gone, as a respected Thane of five holdings, chances are, I'd be Queen Utha. Not...me." She drank forlornly. "I went to Solstheim and..met him. The other." She shook her head to fight the memories. "I came back, apologized for missing the Moot, and feeling like all my tasks were completed, I went to Skuldafn. To Sovngarde. Ready to fulfill my destiny and end this. But Tsun turned me away. He sent me back. Back here."

She ran a finger over the rim of her cup at the end. They sat in silence. She didn't look at him. Keeping her eyes off him as much as possible.

Cullen tried to process the story to find a moral. "Into pieces men will shatter to be reforged for the Makers glory. For once the bone is broken, can it be healed."

She looked confused for a moment at the scripture. "There is no greater curse than to be loved by the gods." She said, quietly. She gave a nod. Finding some peace in his interpretation.

"I can understand why you drink." He tried levity against her dark story.

She gave a chuckle, finally looking at him with eyes filled with unshed tears that she would refuse to fall. Power of will on her part. He could imagine how much she had already cried in her life. A deep part of him wanted to hold her and tell her it was alright. That he wouldn't treat her like her king. That he would fight beside her to kill all the blood mages. That he was proud of her progress. That he was impressed at her forthrightness tonight. But as she sat there, he was uncertain if she would allow it. Uncertain if they were even there yet in their relationship. If she would even accept a hug or comfort from him. Knowing he held her life as much as she did.

He lowered his brows in thought. If they are to kill one another, why tell him this? As he looked at her to ask, he watched her start to open the second bottle with her knife. Her cup refilled. He looked away. If she was lying, he would have to wait until she proved it. Though, he didn't know how. He took a sigh. "May I ask a few questions?" He leaned forward, drinking the remains of his wine. He held the empty cup to her to fill up.

"You may." She said, filling his cup full.

He smiled kindly. "I have several if you'll indulge."

"Of course."

"You rejoined the assassins to pay off the debt. Was it paid?"

She moved slower as she thought. "Aye. Nazir forgave the debt because of Astrid's betrayal."

"Did you assassinate the emperor?"

She stood still. "We were at war." She said slowly. "I wanted my people to be free from the Empire. From their tyranny. From the Thalmor puppet. I knew they were having difficulty keeping the Thalmor at the borders of the Empire and only sent two legions to deal with the Skyrim rebellion. I thought we could buy time and create chaos within Cyrodill while they tried to find a new Emperor. A new puppet."

He arched a brow. "You thought?" His mind now going to the possibility of the assassination attempt on Empress Celine.

"We wanted freedom of religion, but I didn't realize how much we were actually dependent on them. As the powers of the land squabble for the title, the people are left starved and destitute. Because we broke away from, and there isn't any presence of the Empire in Skyrim, we don't receive the strong trade from the Imperial Trading Company anymore. Our entire economy has been sent back a thousand years as we can now only trade locally. Our neighboring countries, some that want nothing to do with the Empire or the Thalmor, distrust Nords because of our history. And now that we kill Emperors and Kings, they won't engage in trade."

"And that's why you need Ferelden."

She nodded. "We need outside revenue and resources to stay afloat. Skyrim soil is harsh. And Cyrodill has the grain. We've grown fat from their wealthy hands. And now, my people will starve. And as my story has shown, starvation leads to desperation. And Skyrim has no end of bandits."

He tilted his head slightly. Thinking again of Ferelden's position if Empress Celine were to be assassinated. If Grad Duke Gaspard was the other option. The chaos if both were to be killed. How far could Corypheus implement himself in the court during such a time? He swallowed. "Why did your people rebel?"

"Talos." She said, her hand going to her necklace again. Cullen frowned at the word. She smiled. "There's a lot of history when it comes to the Warrior, General, Emperor, and God. He's like your Andraste, in a way. He united the nations, ascended mortality, and became the gods of mortals and of war. But the Thalmor sought to stop his worship in the hopes it would kill him."

Cullen lowered his brows in comical question. "Is that how you kill a god? You stop believing."

She sighed. "So they think. As the Thalmor won the Great War, their 'peace treaty' outlawed the worship. But he is the god of mortals and man. He's the god of hope. Most refused to stop. And they were tortured for it. So, the rebellion was started on the terms of religion, the unfair terms of the Thalmor White Gold Concordant, and the weakness of the Empire for accepting such a peace treaty."

Cullen gritted his teeth at the concepts. It sounded like these Thalmor were like the Qunari in a way.

"What I didn't know," she said, severing his thoughts. "Was that we were the last allies of the Empire. The other seven countries had either receded from the empire or were under the Alderimerian Dominion. The Empire wanted to join forces to beat them back again but needed to gather strength first. But Ulfric declared war and sundered both sides. But we were too proud to see the truth. I...didn't see the truth. And I weakened the Empire more for the Thalmor to overrule without impunity while we wasted time on a moot." Her brows furrowed deeper. "I sowed the destruction of my land." Her chin quivered again, and she closed her eyes to stop. "I was supposed to save it." She whispered. "And I failed at every turn."

Cullen damned his previous emotions of inadequacy and uneasy observations. He stood, and sat down beside her without a second thought. He used a single arm to hold her closer to him.

She pushed herself off, sitting up on her own. "You should be questioning me." She seethed with wide eyes.

He looked down at her. Her eyes filled with pain that she wanted him to reinforce. But she looked so small. So scared. Alone. His heart shrunk at the idea. How many times had he failed? How many times did he look past the obvious in hopes that it was for the greater good? How many times did he hate himself as she did now? He took a breath. "As my wife, your wellbeing is my responsibility. I question if you've had time to properly grieve the ones you've lost. The ones you left behind. The betrayals. My only question is if you are alright?" She looked away from him. If she gritted her teeth any harder, she'd break them. Cullen moved so he could see her face. "What can I do to help?"

She turned her face further from him, pulling her knees up to keep herself small. Her eyes watering but breathing through it. "Utha."

She looked at him quickly but hid her face again. "Why did you give me wine?" her whining tone, though playful, was laced with regret from speaking.

He could tell she was trying to deflect. Cullen smirked. "So I could do this." He pulled her back to his chest with no room to run as both arms now encircled her.

"Stop." She said over a chuckle, "Your armor is piercing me."

He looked down to see that the hooks on his gorget were in fact poking her in the scalp. He let go slowly. She pulled back and scowled at him. "Sorry." Her nose only wrinkled more. She reached the table and placed the corks over the points. She huffed as if she shouldn't have had to do it in the first place. "I deserve that." He said with a smile. He held his arm back out slowly, the hesitation hitting the flames in his gut as he waited for her to take the invitation. She looked him over with a sour expression, crossing her arms. She leaned into him, her shoulder hitting his breastplate. Cullen smirked and wrapped his arms over her shoulder and mid-section. Relief washed over him as she accepted his comfort.

She gave a grunt. "You're lucky I'm drunk. And that I need this." She wrapped an arm behind him, hooking a finger in the buckle on his other side to hug him back affectionately. He felt her knuckle on his rib, causing a slight shiver and clench of his gut again. She allowed herself to meld with his armor with a defeated smile. "I'm sorry if I made tonight depressing." She gave a heavy sigh. "This is why I don't drink wine. I get stupid drunk super-fast, and then I start talking and" she exhaled, wrapping her other arm over his shoulder to hide her face from him.

He was impressed at her forthright. And lack of slurring speech. A feat due to practice, he imagined. He rubbed her shoulders in comfort. "I'm sorry for what you had to go through." He pulled back. She kept her arm around him even as he leaned back on the couch. She followed him, tucking her shoulder under his arm to avoid the plate. Cullen was again unsure of this situation. Never had a hug lasted over ten seconds and never had they clung to him in such a passive manner that it felt demanding. His heart raced at the fear of getting too close and not wanting to run to sever this moment. He pulled his arms away, resting on the back of the couch, looking down at her, still holding her arm over his back.

Cullen rested his head on this fist off the back of the couch. He let her hold on. If that is what she needed, wanted, who was he to deny? He looked down the see her hair and smell the thistle of her soap. "What's a dragon born?"

She paused. Then threw her head onto his chest. Feigning snoring sounds. He laughed at her antics. "Utha." He whined for her reply. She only snored louder. He used the hand he was resting on to flick her in the tip of her nose causing her to wake up. "Come on."

"Hmm" she looked at him with a drunken smile.

"What's a dragon born?"

"Oh it's this" she threw her head back taking a deep breath. "Whole thing. I'm hungry. Where do you keep your food? Commander" she looked at him with wide excited eyes causing him to pull back. "Command me some sweet rolls from the kitchens."

He smirked at the drunkard. "No."

"Fine." She unhooked his arm and could swear he felt the coldness from the mountain sweep over him. She stood but waived her arms like she was unbalanced. He held out his hands to keep her steady, trying to hold back laughter. She lost her balance, placing a hand on the wall as he held her hips. "Good wall" she patted said wall and tried to move away from him.

Cullen gave a groan. Between the stairs, the small tables around her, and the rocks, she's liable to get a head injury to the kitchens for a drunken craving. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back down to the couch. She gave a laugh as she landed on his lap and slid down to the floor. Laughing. Cullen rolled his eyes. He wondered how much of a mess she would be if he carried her back to her quarters to sleep off the wine.

"You're so strong, Cullen." She said in high pitch and laughed when she saw his disgruntled look. "But the sweet rolls." She whined with a smile. "And tarts. And garlic bread. With cheese." She clenched her hands at her throat as if she didn't have those right now, no matter how disgusting the combination sounded to Cullen, she would die.

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. This woman is drunk. He stood above her, holding a hand out to help her up.

"Get me food."

"Get up." He tried to sound authoritative but knew he was smiling.

She lifted a hand but extended her middle finger at him. "Fuck you."

Cullen arched a brow and met her rude gesture with his two fingers. While not one he used often, it seemed to come naturally given the situation. She made a confused face. "It means the same thing."

She smiled instantly as if proud she was the one who corrupted him. She opened her hand to take his.

Cullen pulled Uthreida to stand. When she did manage to make it to her feet, her knees buckled and she lost balance. Again. Cullen caught her by the waist before she fell again. She laughed at her own inability to walk slapping his chest and shoulders at her own humiliation. Cullen moved her so she stood before the couch. "Cullen" he looked down and noticed her hands were sitting high on his chest. But the look in her eyes made him acutely aware of how close they were. Of her scent that reminded him of Honnleath. "Take off your armor." She whispered.

His mind halted as he looked down at her. Her ice-blue eyes, tinged in red and a drunken smirk on her lips she looked only at him. His lungs went into his throat from his stomach clenching so fast. "Uh," he looked away quickly. She was drunk. He reminded himself. Even though he could feel the wine, he had significantly less than she did. "Why?" He felt the heat of the asinine question rose up to his neck and face. He lowered his eyes to find her lips and turned his face from her.

"Because" she moved her hands so she gripped his armor under his arms. His eyes flashed to hers and saw...something. "I want to hammer it until it's dented and beyond recognition. Throw it over the hold walls and watch it oxidize and rust in the snow." She growled at her imitated satisfaction.

All the heat he felt before at what he had either hoped or imagined disappeared without a trace. He pushed her from her stomach back onto the couch.

She landed with a laugh. Cullen retook his place across the table from her. Severing whatever moment they just had. His eyes drawing back to the game that was abandoned, drinking his cup until it was empty. Maker, this woman is going to drive him to drink as much as she did. "What's a dragon born?"

She drank her cup and laid languid across the couch. "Someone born of dragons, obviously." She waved a theatrical hand to prove her point. She looked at him with lowered brows. "Why are you over there? Come back." She waved a hand drunkenly to invite him back. "Come back" she sang, laughed to herself, and sang it again. When he didn't move, she squinted. "Get over here." She demanded with a pointed finger at the ground. Cullen looked at her with a smirk. He was torn between giving in and feeling the goosebumps again, to being defiant and getting some answers. His mind brought of the question of 'why not both?'

He stood and she stopped him. "But first, take that fucking monstrosity off." He looked over at her with her head resting from the armrest, glaring at him, then laughing, tried again, only to laugh again. She finally gave up being intimidating and only grinned. He shoved her feet off the couch and sat on the opposite end. And she looked disappointed. "I'm down here." He arched a brow with a smirk. She looked away with another smile. "I'm not sure where I was going with that."

Cullen took a drink of his wine, setting it on the back of the couch. "What's a dragon born?"

"I told you." He watched her as she failed to drink from her cup laying down and spilled a bit on her shawl. "Ah, Dibolla. Why?" She sat up slowly and unpinned the shawl from around her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She laid back down. And did it again.

Cullen's internal heat rose as he could see what her next step was. He took a cleansing breath as she took the shawl and placed it over her chest like a bib. And was successful this time.

She threw a foot onto his lap and laughed. "So is it true?"

He looked at her confused as if he missed half of the conversation. "Umm?"

"That, you know." Her eyes dropped over him as all he could feel at the moment of her leg on his and the sole of her boot on his inner thigh.

"I'm afraid I don't." He took a drink to calm his nerves. "Unless you want to finally tell me." She made a confused face. "What's a dragon born?"

"I told you." She groaned. "It's overrated."

"But what is it?"

She gave an annoyed groan. "Means like" she smacked her lips in thought, bringing up her other leg to rest on his lap. "You are blessed by the dragon of time, that you can use the dragon voice, slay dragons, and light the dragon fires. It means different things to different people. Like, for example, Kiiiiiiiii-Uh, Talos was Uh" she laughed again, "was able to use the voice and lit the fires. So, you know. But, Uh," she looked him over and her eyes grew sultry as she smiled. His hand tightened on the leather of her boot as she looked at him. She waved a hand at him. "But it's true though, right?" She asked admits a yawn. Thank the Maker. She looked him up and down quickly. "Is it true?" He curled his brow not knowing what she was saying. "That Templars take vows of chastity and prove their devotion." She gave a large wink with an open mouth.

"Uh," he gave a chuckle that caused her to laugh loudly. She had been speaking to others. "Yes but-"

She made an aggravated sound, throwing her hands in her curled hair. "Why? What a waste." Even as she complained, she was still smiling.

He lowered his brows. She already answered the question. "To prove their devotion."

"I don't need your facts, Cullen." She laughed at herself.

He chuckled, finishing his cup of wine. "Look, some choose that route to prove-"

"Aye, but" she squinted her eyes as though deep in thought, "why?" If she would stop interrupting, he could explain. She waved her arms, and finally set up. She slapped a hand over his shoulder but had a pained expression. "You, you're a brave man, Cullen." She gave a deep chuckle, hiding her face from him. She patted his shoulder two more times, and Cullen realized what she thought. She believed that he had taken vows of chastity.

He looked at her in both shock and amusement at her thoughts. A smile ripped across his face and he had to use a hand to hide it, biting his knuckle to not laugh at her assumptions. He debated between telling her he had never taken such vows and letting her believe it. "Thank you, dear."

She took his hand in hers and he watched with amusement until his heart hammered in his chest. He hated being touched. But this was different, as she patted his hand, trying to think of something to say but not wanting to say it. Not noticing his clenching jaw or the shallow breathing. Even he was barely able to discern what he was feeling as his body became rigid but melted in her warmth. The feeling of breathing around a knife in his chest. He looked at their hands. Her heathenistic tattoos wrapped around the leather. And for a moment, he wanted to take them off. Not to touch, but to feel. The thought making him pull his body away, but not his hand.

"I can always tell when you're angry because" she laughed again and he looked up at her closeness, "you get this little crease in your brow" she pointed to her own still smiling. "And it's the cutest thing. I know I shouldn't say this. But I live for that." She laughed placing her hands over her heart. "But," she said more seriously. Well, as serious as she could be. "When you do that stuck-up grin, I just want to choke you." She held her hands out in threat. But it fell somewhat as she tried not to smile. He smirked, resting his head on a fist on the back of the couch. "Aye, that one."

He opened his mouth to tell her the reverse was true for him. That he enjoyed making her smile and laugh, but hated when her vein on her forehead bulged in anger. He liked seeing her out of her element. To see her blush. But he snapped his jaw shut. She probably didn't need to know that.

"Oh, I forgot to ask." She reached over for the bottle.

Cullen gently pulled it from her hands and placed it back on the table. "You're traveling tomorrow, remember?"

She made an annoyed face and pouted. Laughed to herself. And pouted again. But her brows turned down. "I was going to ask something." She tapped her head. "It was a good question too." She rubbed her face and looked at him in thought. Cullen waited but she waved a hand to let it go. "You're being really patient. I'm just putting it out there."

"I could escort you back to your quarters, but I'm sure you'll sneak off to steal food and be caught in the morning by Nan and shooed out with the broom."

She laughed. "Wouldn't be the first time." His look of wide-eyed disbelief only made her laugh harder. She pulled her tousled hair over one shoulder. "Could you though?" He looked at her, trying to figure out what she suggested. "Not that I don't trust you, but this couch smells like mold and I'm too drunk for that" she waved a hand at the ladder to his quarters. "Have you considered stairs? Also, do you have a shirt I can borrow?" She lifted her shirt for inspection and he realized how much wine had gotten it, below her shall. The top and shoulders were soaked and now, her twill shawl has wine stains on it. She sipped a hand over it as if to wipe it off but only smeared the wine over the embroidery at the collar.

His eyes were taken in by the now wine-stained embroidery. It looked like dragons but of a kind he's never seen before with long necks and interwoven knots along it. He looked away realizing his eyes were following the low point of her collar and seeing the black tattoos on her chest. The slight curve of her cleavage and the valley of her sternum. "Yes. Wait here."

Cullen stood, needing the space between them to cool off the heat on his neck. He climbed the ladder, telling himself that this was nothing and it was simply a distraction. He opened his trunk and stopped. If he's taking her back to her room, is his shirt really required? "Why do you need my shirt if we're going back to your quarters?" He called downstairs. He called her name when she didn't respond. He walked to the ladder and popped his head down to look. Uthreida had passed out on his couch in a matter of moments.

He gave a hard sigh. This woman is relentless. He went back to his bed and removed the second blanket that was at the foot. Throwing it over his shoulder, he made his way downstairs. He removed her boots for her, and wrapped her in the blanket. He shook his head as he looked at her.

She was peaceful as she slept. Her wild hair thrown over the armrest as her mouth was slightly open in sleep. How can a thief, an assassin, a warrior, a dragon be that dangerous and still be this...he stumbled over the word to describe the creature before him. Harmless was inaccurate and adorable was an overstatement.

He shook his head walking away. Silencing his mind of those kinds of thoughts. Listening to her silent snores as he climbed the ladder, removed his armor, and curled into bed. He stared at the hole in the ceiling, staring at the stars, taking methodical breaths to calm his mind, but was acutely aware that a thief assassin was in the next room. He pursed his lips. He was not going to sleep tonight.

Xxxxx

Cullen just excused the soldiers when he noticed Uthreida standing by the south door in armor, kohl, braids, and looking like she had a decent night's sleep. "We're getting ready to head out." She jutted her chin to the east. "And I hope you appreciate the jeering I got from your men when I came to get my 'goodbye kiss'." She gave a depreciative smile at the man. Cullen felt his stomach flame at the idea. "In truth" she pushed herself off the wall as she approached, keeping her arms crossed. "I wanted to apologize for last night." She smiled humbly, placing her hands on her hips. "I have no head for wine. I'm, very, sorry for what you witnessed." Cullen arched an amused brow at her. He could remember the night well but could have sworn he heard her say something to him in the middle of the night. Or from the lower level. Either way, was pleasantly surprised when nothing was missing and he awoke. From a decent night's sleep. And given his usual nightmare-fueled nights, was saying something. And the couch was empty with the blanket folded. "What um" she scratched her head with a pained smile. "What happened?" Her voice went up an octave at the question.

Cullen smiled at the possibilities that laid before him at that moment. Even if she did remember, the teasing would be well worth it. "Well, whatever your about to say is a lie." Her eyes looming over him with suspicion.

Cullen cleared his throat to fight it. "You handled last night quite well." She gave a sigh of relief. "The confession of undying love was a bit awkward, though." He tried to sell the lie with a scratch behind his ear, trying to look as uncomfortable as possible.

She looked at him with wide eyes. Forcefully trying to remember such an embarrassing event. He fought with every ounce of will to fight the smile. But she caught it. "Damnit, Cullen." She gave a frustrated fist at him but pouted that he was teasing.

"No, no, it was poetic and heartwarming. I rather enjoyed it." She glared at him with crossed arms. "Of course your stoic, silent tears at my polite, and eloquent might I add, rejection almost broke my heart."

"See, now I know your lying because you don't have a heart." She rolled her eyes. "Lying to your wife, pft."

Cullen laughed at her terse observation. "You're absolutely right. My apologies. I'm still enraptured at your detailed accounts of your assassin training." Her emotions drained from her face as she looked at him. "That you failed to mention." He smirked, bowing at his waist to meet her face to face. "To everyone."

He stood upright watching her look of mild horror shift into a defensive, into a knowing smirk. "Yet." She smiled with a wrinkle in her nose. "Though you did garner the information while I was intoxicated, and questions the validity."

He smiled. "Perhaps." Cullen tilted his head in thought. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Opening the wine bottle."

"Which one?"

She paused in thought. "Shit"

Cullen laughed at her black-out memory but quickly controlled himself as she didn't have time for a full recant. "But you have a hunt and I have work to get to. I believe our departing kiss will have to be-"

She stepped into his space, her eyes focused on his lips. "Do that again." Cullen lowered his brows at her. She opened her mouth to show her teeth and nodded her head for him to do the same with a smile. Cullen knew what she saw and pressed his lips in a thin line. "Do it." He frowned. She rolled her eyes. "Don't make me use my knife."

Cullen exhaled a breath and relented. He opened his mouth showing her what she was looking at. A possessed Templar had taken a swing at his face and cut his lip, ear, and fracturing his canine tooth with it. The lip healed, but the tooth became infected. He had it capped in gold to prevent future infections. And she was apparently fascinated by it. Though they had spoken and laughed together, this was obviously the first time she noticed it.

"You're so vain" she squealed. Cullen closed his mouth with an audible click. Uthreida lifted a hand to touch and he smacked it away. She smiled, looking at his lips with questions on how it was done beaming in her eyes. "I'm going to steal your tooth." He looked down at her with a worrying concern only to see her shaking in anticipation. The movement looking like a mabari staring at a promised treat.

Cullen chuckled as the image crossed his mind's eye. "Right. Good luck on the hunt."

"I will." She gave a menacing smile as her eyes stayed on his lips.

"With the dragon."

"Oh, aye." she looked at the door that lead to the stables quickly as if remembering what her purpose was. "That's a thing I'm doing. So, I'm sorry for last night and you should write to your family. In" she looked away in thought. "South Reach. With your three siblings. What were their names again?" The smile on his face died at her implied threat. She may no longer be an assassin, but she knew how to do it. She winked, clicking her tongue. "See, I listen."

Cullen's body tensed at the panic. He swallowed back the fear and stepped towards her. "Now see here-"

"Relax. I was just joking." She waved a dismissive hand but he was still ready to flay her. "But you should write to them." Cullen clenched his jaw. He just killed his family. She exhaled loudly. "I will not do to you what has been done to me. I don't want your family. I want you."

The heat rushed up to his face as he took a step back. A flushed smile spreading across his lips as he arched a knowing brow at her. She seemed to notice as he watched the quickly setting panic. "That's not-" he tilted his head at her confession. "That's not what I meant." An odd sense of pride filled him as he watched her struggle against her implied statement and the deep crimson cross her cheeks, turning her old scar a deep pink. Cullen crossed his arms, watching in superior satisfaction. She grunted. She turned on her heel and left. "I'll see you in a week." She flung a hand over her shoulder as she huffed from his office.

He waited until the door had closed before doubling over in laughter. Maker, bless her heart.

---

A/N: Songs: the first was Ebonheart Pact from ESO.

The second is inspired by Wardruna, Munin

The reason I let Cullen listen passively is that I know I hate it when I read song lyrics in fiction and don't want you to suffer as I have suffered. So having Cullen describe the overarching composition is the easiest way to showcase the song without getting trapped in making sure you know the lyrics.