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.

9. Chapter 9

A/N: Whew. I've spent the last few weeks reviewing the things and, wow, just, wow. You guys are very patient when it comes to grammar, spelling, and…just…so much. Thank you. I apparently need a Beta.

I do appreciate your patience in this endeavor. I've added another layer of editing. Here's hoping it works out.

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So far so good. Cullen ducked back into his office to grab a few things to continue his roving patrol to stay as far away and not in one location less he should find Cullen. He grabbed the two reports he was looking for, and the apple that was left on his desk for breakfast. The request for the schematics. He looked around his office to make sure he didn't have an excuse to come back in today. Seeming content, he made his way to the south door.

"Captain Curly!" He exclaimed kicking the door open and making his presence known.

Cullen cursed under his breath, exhaling loudly. He lowered his shoulders that had bristled at the loud entrance. He took a moment to collect himself before turning to see Garrett. The Champion. Grinning at him. With the same red mark running across his nose in the usual black and red leather armor and daggers strapped to his back. "Hawke." He stated deadpanned.

"I heard a great joke-" he stated with a smile as he crossed the office.

"I was on my way out-"

"Two Templars walk into a brothel-"

"Ugh." Cullen rolled his eyes.

"One leans to the other and says, 'there seems to be evidence of blood magic here.' And the second goes-"

"In my trousers." Cullen finished emotionless, crossing his arms at the man.

"Yeah, in my trousers!" Hawke gave a loud sound of excitement but smiled at Cullen showing all his teeth from beneath his thick, dark beard.

Cullen arched a brow. "It wasn't funny the first time. Still isn't."

"Well, maybe if you pulled that scabbard out of your ass, Knight-Captain."

"It's Commander now."

Garrett waved his hands in mock impress. "How you been? Your hair looks different. What happened?" He pointed to his own lip to indicate Cullen's scar with a smile on his face.

Cullen took a deep breath to check his patience before speaking to the temporary Corypheus and Grey Warden advisor. "Can I help you with anything?"

Hawke made a face to show playful offense. "What's the matter, chap? Two old friends can't catch up?" Cullen arched a brow. "I mean, you have been telling people we're friends."

"I've been telling people we're friendly, not friends."

"Friendly?" Garrett's dark eyes looked him over quickly with a questionable expression. "I mean, you're not my cup of lyrium but you could be my thirteenth shot of rum." Garrett shrugged like Cullen should be proud to have placed.

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose knowing what he was implying. Cullen cleared his throat to change the topic. "Is there something you need?"

Garret pushed a few pieces of parchment and a bottle off his desk with a loud crash as he took a seat on Cullen's desk. "Just thought I'd stop by. See how you're doing. Surrounded by all these Mages and not enough Templars. You must be," he took a deep breath to showcase his interpretation of Cullen's stress levels. Smiling.

Cullen arched a brow at the man's jovial excitement at his expense. "If there's nothing else."

"So serious, Captain."

"Commander."

"Whatever." His dark eyes took in the tapestry above the door. "So, the Inquisition, huh?" He looked back at Cullen with a smirk. "Siding with the mages. Giving them their freedom. That must chaff you something raw."

Cullen took a measured breath. "They have served us well thus far."

He chuckled. "Service, like a tool? Or a weapon. That's so like you Captain. Waving about your weapons." Garrett's thick condescending tone made Cullen's shoulders taught.

Cullen grit his teeth, feeling the door at his back. "I have work to do. So if there's nothing else."

"There's always something else."

Cullen looked over to see a serious expression on the otherwise jolly Champion. He stood slowly from the desk. "Seven years ago, you took my sister from my home. You swore she'd be protected." Garrett slowly crossed the room. "Where is she now?" Each word punctuated with deeper bass.

Cullen stood his ground against the Champion, watching for a sign of wavering. He took shallow breaths to prepare for the onslaught Hawke was preparing. "Well, Hawke, after you ran-" Garrett snarled at Cullen, "Leaving Serah Bethany behind, she stayed at the Circle. Helping those who needed it. Becoming the level head of the Circle after the failed annulment. When the Circles openly rebelled, she also came up missing. I have no idea where your sister is as I was dealing with the collapse of the Circle and the Order at the time."

Garrett moved, closing the distance. Cullen got low. Neither drew their weapons. Garret threw a punch and Cullen dodged. The fist clipped the raised pauldron on his left shoulder. Garret recoiled allowing Cullen to return the strike to his abdomen through his leather armor. The wind in Garrett's lungs was knocked out as he stumbled back. Cullen shook his head. "You ask of Serah Bethany. Where's Anders? Where are you hiding him?"

Garrett coughed with a smirk. Recovering from the hit. He took a step back. "You still blame him for this? He may have caused the explosion but he didn't start the fire. You did. Your order closed ranks and fisted down punishments calling it a mercy."

Cullen shook his head. Cullen didn't have the time nor patience to correct him. "I understand your frustration, Champion. But do not take it out on me. You abandoned the city that raised you up when they needed you most."

Garrett gave a humorless laugh. "I left because I knew you Templars would stop at nothing to see everyone who sided with the Mages hang in the Gallows."

Cullen arched a brow at the gall. "Aveline stayed and help to maintain peace in Kirkwall. Ferris stayed and helped the guards and Templars use slaver routes that mages might have taken to escape. Isabella stayed and protected the harbor from pirates that would've seized upon a weakened Kirkwall. Even your elf stayed-"

"Don't you ever speak of her like that!"

"And defended the alienage from those with lesser intentions. Hounding Aveline for more guards and more food for her people. Prince Vale retook Starkhaven and sent reinforcements back to Kirkwall. In your absence, your friends thrived and became Champions of the people better than you ever could. All so you could hide your little abomination. I suggest you look inward to vent your own frustrations at your failure."

"My failures?" Garrett scoffed. "Your order hid the truth of the Rite of Tranquility. Hid bodies of the mages you killed. Performed Tranquility on Harrowed Mages. Using 'divine right' to cover up the rapes that happened in your corridors. And then bitched that your livestock had the gall to complain." He shook his head.

"None of that was under my order. Those Templars-"

"We're under your command" Garrett bellowed back. "It's a no wonder the mages rebelled when the Templars lacked control. Or craved too much of it." Hawke's eyes dragged over him with a sneer.

"We did the best we could to cull the blood mages-"

"That you created." Garrett raised his voice over Cullen.

Cullen tilted his head at him. "That you aided." He stated lowly. Garrett's hands clenched and Cullen rested his hand on the tang of his weapon. "Where's Anders?"

Garrett smirked. "Out of your control and hands." His voice lowering to show some restraint.

Cullen arched a brow. He cut his eyes away in thought. "He's with the Wardens."

Garrett gave a slow clap with a sneer. "Which ones?"

Cullen exhaled from his nose. "That's how you know what's going on with the Wardens. He's with the Orlesian's."

Garrett smirked. "Where's Beth?"

Cullen took half a step back, dropping his gaze. "I don't know."

"Find her."

"I'm a little preoccupied at the moment." He flicked a hand to his desk that was covered in missives, notes, and maps of their current situation in the Inquisition. Hawke's hands flexed again and Cullen held his weapon tighter. He took a breath. Pinching his nose. "I understand your situation-"

"Do you?"

Cullen looked at him with a bored expression. "And your concerns. However, the beast you released is our main priority right now. The Red Lyrium you discovered is our main priority right now. I don't have the manpower-"

"You swore she would be looked after-"

"I am aware of my promises, Ser." He stated over the man. "But we don't have the logistical manpower for a hunt right now. Might I suggest speaking to Varric whose coaturie could do a better sweep of Kirkwall than we could right now."

"Andraste's cunt," Garrett took a step closer in aggravation. "He's not coaturie you stupid, thick, simpleton."

"What have you." Cullen stated to sever the conversation, "As it stands, I have more of your problems to clean up that are of a larger standing than the wellbeing of your remaining family." Cullen realized the venom in his voice too late.

A shift changed in his eyes and Cullen dropped a shoulder. Garrett moved and Cullen barely had time to draw before the rogue was on him. A dagger poised at his chest and side. He let the armor take the hit from the front, but drew the blade so the pommel hit Hawkes shoulder so he couldn't get under Cullen's arm. Hawkes attack missed. He grew closer. Cullen took a step back, needing the distance. Needing his sword. He ducked low on the second strike. His fur taking the cut from the dagger as he used the pommel again at Hawks midsection. The Champion staggered back. He had the distance. Cullen took the blade in both hands. Hawke moved in and Cullen sidestepped. Cullen swung, using the flat of his blade at Hawke's sides. Garret held the wound for a moment before retaking his stance.

The door behind him opened and Cullen didn't dare take his eyes off the man before him. A blade drew from behind him. He saw only black as it moved to his side. A glass bottle broke and smoke filled the area where Hawke was standing. "Be on guard."

"Bas"

He looked over at the familiar voice and saw the familiar helm with the high side guards that looked like elf ears. The black and thin visor with false gold eyes. Her black axe in hand. Maker, of course she shows up now. She just got back five minutes ago. He was on his way to berate her.

He felt her pull mana for a moment before her hand lifted, shooting lightning in his office. He heard Garrett give a grunt of pain before seeing what she was shooting at. Cullen smote the area. She moved before he could contain her. Garrett's invisibility was severed as he staggered back.

She rushed left. Cullen reached for her but she slipped out of reach as she ran at the Champion. Garrett dodged her axe once and moved to stab her. She dropped a shoulder, letting the dagger hit her on top of her shoulder and bounce off the armor. Cullen moved to pull her back. She used her lower position and hooked the champion's ankle with the beard of her axe. She pulled. And the champion fell to the ground.

"Utha" Cullen bellowed, but she grabbed Garrett by the hair and forced him to sit on his knees, her axe to his throat. "Stop," Cullen shouted. The black helm looked at him. She jerked the axe tighter to Garrett's throat and Cullen could tell it was supposed to frighten the man. Cullen held up a single hand to stop her. "Don't hurt him. We need him alive."

Garrett looked at the woman and started to laugh. "A mage." He said through his laughter, "you have a mage protecting you?" He laughed again, but Uthreida jerked his head back on her thigh, her axe still at his throat. The golden false eyes of her helmet looking directly at Cullen. "You're such a fucking hypocrite." Garrett's dark eyes were only on Cullen.

Cullen took a breath at the comment, but kept his eyes on her. "Don't."

She tilted her head slightly. "Drop your weapons, or I slit your throat." He could hear the grave in her voice. The helmet giving it a deeper boom than usual.

Garrett chuckled. She held the axe tighter. "Face it, you can't go against your master. Or you wouldn't have stopped."

Cullen wrinkled his nose at Garrett quickly. The man was inviting his own death. Garrett raised a dagger to stab her in the leg. Uthreida pulled her blade back. "Fos" Garrett was slammed forward, his daggers clanking from his hands. She picked him up by the hair again and rested him against her thigh. Her axe hanging over his shoulder with the blade still at his throat.

"Let him go." She canted her head slowly. The high side guards moving to look at him and he could swear that she was smiling behind her full-face helm. Trying to work an angle. "Don't hide behind him. You're next." He pointed a finger at her. Begging she would take the bait of his rage.

Uthreida paused, her faceguard hiding any of her emotions. She sighed, pulled the blade from Hawke's throat. She gave a violent knee to the back of his neck causing him to fall forward again. She stepped over him to approach Cullen. "What did I do now?" She placed her axe in the holster and removed her helm. Her single red braid plopping over her shoulder.

"It's what you didn't do," Cullen argued as Hawke slumped lower, watching the two argue and tried to get away. "You made the Inquisition a laughing stock."

"Calm down." She waved a dismissive hand as she put her helmet on the pommel of one of her blades at her hip. "No need to be so dramatic."

"Dramatic?" He flung a hand at her and she smirked. "You went to a dragon hunt and didn't hunt the dragon."

She shrugged, crossing her arms. "I told you, I'm not killing a dragon for sport."

"Why not?" Garett hopped up, looking at the two of them. Cullen snarled at him and Uthreida looked confused as to why he was there. Both giving the impression that he was interrupting.

The two warriors looked at one another and Cullen was ready to hit someone. "That's fine, but you could've just sat down instead of-" he pulled the missive he grabbed from his desk that he threw to the ground in his fight.

"I will not stand by while an innocent is slaughtered for no reason."

"But you didn't just stand by, did you. You," he read Rylens report quickly, "meandered from the forest, guarding the dragon, whilst singing. Lead it to where three hogs were roasting on the spit. Broke it, fed the dragon two hogs." Uthreida threw her head back laughing. "Then escorted it to the other side of the field, in the opposite direction of the hunters, and let it go." Cullen pulled his report away and glared at her. He finished reading the report. "Walked to the master of the hunt, stole the horn, and blew to signal the end of the hunt."

She smiled. "Aye." She laughed again when she saw his rage. "Look, I won the hunt. What's the problem?"

"No one won the hunt." He spat.

"Aye. As I intended. Thusly, I won."

"Uth-" he took a breath. "What is wrong with you?"

Her merry expression turned dark. "You didn't see what I did. That 'dragon' was a dovalaan. A child." Cullen rolled his eyes at her growing voice. "It was baited, trapped, and dragged to Lydes so it could be hunted. It was scared and starving. That child was innocent."

"True or not, it's still a dragon." He growled his exasperation. "Are you really saving it by setting it free?"

He watched the rage fill her eyes as the vein on her forehead bulged. "I will not slaughter a child, Cullen. Dragon or not." She shouted over him. "Your order may not have a problem with it, but I do."

"I have never killed a child."

"No," she scathed back, "you just ripped out their souls without giving them the common courtesy of death."

"Yea" Garrett shouted, pointing a finger at Cullen. Both of the warriors looked at him with a look of promised death for interrupting. Again. Garrett looked at Uthreida as if to save him. "I bet if Meredith ordered it-" he let the sentence hang as he gave an accusatory look to Cullen. Cullen clenched his jaw and snarled at the man.

"Who the fuck asked you?" Uthreida curled at the champion who looked accosted before turning back to Cullen. "I told you I wasn't going to kill it-"

"No, you said you were going to go to the hunt."

"And I did."

"I assumed-"

"You sure did." She bellowed with a smirk. "I told you what I was going to do. So don't act surprised when I hold true to my word."

"It was a simple mission-"

"Filled with ethical situations."

"Why can't you just follow orders?"

Garrett chuffed. "Yea, you'd like to see that, wouldn't you."

Both looked at him again as Hawke crossed his arms. Uthreida canted a hip away from him. "Why is he still here?" She looked away from Cullen back to the interloper. "You need to leave." She shook a dismissive hand towards him and turned back to Cullen. "I will not slaughter an innocent regardless of mine, yours, or the Inquisitions reputation."

Cullen offered a humorless laugh. "You want to speak of reputation. You're the dragon hunter who saves dragons. Whose entire contract hinges on killing dragons."

"You hunt dragons?" Garrett asked with more enthusiasm than necessary. Uthreida looked at him with death in her eyes as he interrupted. Again. She jutted her thumb at Hawke in question but waived hand at Cullen telling him to deal with this. "Sit on my face."

Her look changed dramatically to confusion. "Odd custom." She said with an awkward look.

Cullen snorted a laugh at her misunderstanding and tried to hide his smile behind his hand. Uthreida looked at him with an equal brow.

"Garrett Hawke." He introduced himself with an extended hand. She looked at it, then at him. The sneer returning to her face. "I'm gonna eat you."

Her hand went to her axe and Cullen guffawed. She looked at him with panicking confusion. "He's threatening cannibalism, and you're laughing."

"Not, Uh," Cullen rubbed his neck, feeling the heat return. "Not cannibalism."

"Then what is he talking about?" She shoved both her hands at Hawke with a look at Cullen.

Garrett laughed, watching the blush creep over Cullen's face. "Oh," he laughed again, "please, little Templar, explain for the lady."

Uthreida paused then snorted. Finally seeing what he was saying. "Oh, you want lambs stomach for dinner." She gave a chuckle while looking at Cullen. Who felt unsure of the reference. "It's a dish back home that looks like a -"

"I think I get the point." He quickly interrupted.

"It's also an innuendo." she pointed at him with a smile to make sure he got the joke.

"Thank you." Cullen protested, keeping his eyes in the furthest part of the room.

She clicked her tongue at him. "I hear red goat beard is quite the delicacy." Cullen took a deep breath feeling the heat return as she smiled at him. "And we both know red is more of a fetish than a preference."

He took a deep breath to clear his embarrassment. "Makers breath, I swear, the two of you are trying to get me an ulcer."

Hawke and Uthreida looked at one another with a smile.

"Garrett Hawke." He held out a hand for her to take.

She took it. "Uthreida Storm-Blade. Dragon Slayer for the Inquisition."

He took her hand in both of his. "So, how about it? Let's get out of here. We can discuss dragons we've killed. Over wine. And in my bed."

Cullen watched and felt a coil of something dark pool in his stomach at the two. Hawke, the Champion, was coming onto her. His. Uthreida pulled her hand back slowly. A look of mild disgust crossed her features. "We just met."

He held an arm out over her shoulder to pull her closer. "And we can talk to get to know one another."

Cullen took two steps and ripped his arm off from around her. Both turned to look at him. Garrett's look was darker than hers. "Come now, Captain. I think we both know she's safer with me than you." Cullen clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to pull her towards him and having no idea where it came from. "You can't protect your own charges let alone her. Best to pass her off to someone more capable." Cullen tried not to show the sting of Garrett's words on his face. Memories of the raped mages, the Templars he couldn't control, those that turned to blood magic.

Uthreida stepped away from Hawke. "Mind your tone, lad" She warned.

Garrett looked at her as she took a step back. Her backplate almost touching Cullen's front. Hawkes eyes going between the two. "You choose him?" Garret waved a hand towards Cullen. "Captain 'mages aren't people' Cullen 'there should be more tranquil' Stanton 'convenient last-minute change of heart' Rutherford 'new mages are born every day'? Seriously?" Cullen felt her tense against the man, and a part of him didn't blame her. "The man's unstable and disreputable. You're a mage. He's a Templar. He doesn't care about you. He wants you collared like the rest." Hawke shook his head at her in disappointment. "He can't protect you. The man is brainwashed and disillusioned by Chantry propaganda. He's more liable to kill you and get away with it. Like all of the 'blood mages' he created when he forced chains around their throats. He has, after all, 'divine right' to dominate mages."

She laughed. Cullen could make out a knowing smile on her lips that he knew all too well. If anyone held divine domination, it was her. "You think I need his protection?"

"I think you follow orders otherwise you would've killed me."

"Don't think that option is off the table." She moved a hand to her swords on her hip.

Cullen held a hand over hers and leaned down to her. "Let him go." He said softly. "We need him alive."

He saw her take a deep breath, her eyes remaining on the man before her. "But do we need his tongue?"

Cullen looked at him, his flabbergasted look between them, and Cullen tightened his hand over hers. He lowered his eyes from Hawke. "You can't silence the truth." Her head turned slightly towards him, but he hid his eyes from her. "Let him go."

She paused but squared up to Hawke. She pulled her hand from her blade, her fingers lacing his as she held her hand behind her back. Hiding his hand that he realized was shaking. "You should apologize, sir. The man you hate has saved your life twice. Be on your way."

Garrett took a step forward, his hand extended. "You need to run." Cullen noticed all jokes were removed from the man as he looked at her. "Come with me."

She paused, her eyes going to his hand, then his face. "My husband may have an issue with that."

Garrett snorted. "The more the merrier."

That darkness pooled in Cullen's gut and spread over his body offering new resolve. All he felt was the hot rage and didn't register what he did until Hawke's eyes looked between the two. He felt her gauntlet placed over his hand as he pulled her by the waist closer to him. Holding her to him.

"Are you serious?" Garrett sneered at her. "Good for you," he said to Cullen "but, come on." He pleaded with Uthreida. "Don't be so insipid as to be blinded by a false halo. The man's power-hungry. He gets off on his own dominance. Preying on those weaker." She scoffed. "Don't be naive. He can sever your magic."

"Oh aye." She laughed. "That's why the sharpened blades on me are for show and I'm not at all trained in the armor I'm wearing." She shook her head. "You're understanding of the situation is far lower than what I gave you credit for. You have no comprehension of to whom you speak. Be on your way, lad."

Garrett shook his head, his hand falling to his side. "He will kill you."

She laughed again. "I look forward to his attempt."

Garrett jutted his jaw at the woman but lowered his voice to a warning. "He stood aside as innocents died. Do you think he's going to save you? Your arrogance will get you killed. He'll get you killed. Don't be driven by your cunt."

"You will not speak of her in that tone, Champion." Cullen moved to push her behind him, ignoring her look at him. He tucked his chin and stared the man down. "We're done here."

Garrett took a step back and scoffed. He looked at her and shook his head again. Disappointment in his eyes. He looked at Cullen. "Will you let your men rape her too and then lose her when you find a better position? More power? Will you make her tranquil when she gets out of line? Will you beat her and say she's possessed when she refuses to follow your orders? Just like your Knight Commander? Howling at the moon like Meredith?"

He could feel her eyes on him as he kept looking forward at the man who barred his teeth at Cullen. Cullen clenched his jaw but had no retort that was just as low or painful. He kept one arm behind him to keep her back as he held his weapon tighter. "I will not ask you to leave again."

He smirked. "No, you won't. Because that would require an action, wouldn't it?" Cullen fisted a hand but looked away. In his anger, Hawke just shamed him in front of his wife. Every sin, every inaction laid before her. He deserved this. He knew. "And they gave you more men." He jutted a humorless laugh while taking a step back. "I wouldn't be surprised if you're the one smuggling red lyrium under the guise of the Inquisition, Captain." Cullen turned quickly to glair the man down. "How many years did you stand beside her while she wielded that blade?" Garrett shook his head. His eyes turning back to Uthreida. "Do not trust him." He warned. "He will betray you to get what he wants. Just like he did his previous Commander when power was in his grasp. Even though he could've taken it at any time, but chose not to."

She canted her head slightly as she looked the Champion over. "I'm aware." Uthreida pushed from Cullen's side, but he held her back. Pulling her to his body and keeping her out of distance from the rogue. She shoved him off and walked around. And all Cullen could feel was the coldness of her actions. He felt his heart drop as she left him. Uthreida stood before the man, her hands on her hips. "But now I'm curious, how will you betray me?"

Garrett shook his head. "You stand behind him? After everything he did?"

Uthreida looked over her shoulder to Cullen. Making a joke of her physical location. Her eyes moving to his side for a second but he lowered his gaze. She looked back at Hawke. "There are three doors. Choose one or it will be chosen for you." She side-stepped the man.

Cullen watched her smirk and took a slow deep breath. Cullen moved, pulling an arm behind her and clamping her mouth shut. She took a deep breath. Cullen knew her magic well enough and moved his hand to her throat. She made a surprised sound and clenched her body against him. She looked at him in fear but didn't dare breathe.

Cullen looked at her in confusion when she didn't speak. Maker's breath, did he just figure out how to silence her? Maker, that worked?

She gave a smirk. "Harder." She choked out softly, knocking her knees together. She bit her lower lip with a smile. Her eyes filled with mischief.

Cullen released her instantly with wide eyes knowing where his blood was rushing. A flushed smile spreading.

She drew her blade at his distraction and ran at the Champion. Cullen pulled her back by the braid, wrapping around his hand and forcing her head up. She was pulled back to his chest while his other hand clapped around her throat. "Tighter," she said with a smile but knew she only had eyes for Hawke to distract him again.

Cullen took a breath. His chin tucked. And looked at Garrett. "Leave." He bellowed as Hawke had retrieved his twin daggers and was ready for a fight. "You need to leave before I release her."

Garrett looked at her again, being held and choked by him. One hand holding a blade, and the other calling forth magic. Cullen felt the pull and cleansed the area. She took a deep breath and he tightened his grip around her throat. She spun the blade in her hand and held the tip under his arm. She knew his armor. "Is this the death you promised me?" He whispered in her ear. Her eyes turned to him in hate. He released her throat slowly. "As adorable as it is, you need to breathe" he whispered. "Release your anger."

"Then release me."

"Calm yourself."

Uthreida threw her sword to the ground. Took a step behind him. She bent at the waist, tucking her shoulder under his arm. Her hands grabbing his arm and threw him over her shoulder. She rolled with him. Cullen landed on his back. He heard a vial break and his east door slammed open. He rolled over. He saw her axe slam into the door. He stood quickly, placing his hand on his sword as she approached him. Her eyes blazed in anger and an emotion he hadn't seen her wear before. She moved to pace. To breathe. She looked at him and Cullen held a hand to ease her. "Utha."

Uthreida ran a hand over her face and popped her neck. He watched her jaw clench. Taking a measured breath. Then smiled, her head slightly tilted as she looked him over. Her eyes taking him in slowly. Cullen swallowed hard. What was she thinking? What happened? Why is she acting like this? Why isn't she angry or fighting him?

"What the fuck did you do?" Cullen blinked at the question. "To him." She jutted a thumb to the door that still had her axe in it.

Cullen took a deep breath as he looked at the door. His jaw flexed as he tried to get out of answering that question. "That was Garrett Hawke. The Champ-"

"That's not what I asked." She said with a harsher tone. "What did you do?"

He met her look and squared off. He had enough shame and guilt. He did what he thought was best. At the time. "What was required."

"Rape was required." Her accusatory statement made him swallow back.

"I never touched-"

"But your men did." She said softer, taking half a step back. Her eyes going over him in disgust. He felt a knife hit his heart. "You forced tranquility." His hands flexed at his sides. Unable to fight her observations. "You beat mages into subjection." She shook her head in disappointment. She ran a hand through her hair, refusing to look at him. "Is that what it means to be a Templar? That you have so much hate and fear that you become the monster you're supposed to kill? That you're supposed to protect from?" He looked at her, seeing the confusion and frustration she had trying to understand this land. She shook her head again when he didn't speak.

Cullen let the inadequacy rise but defended where he could. "You don't understand, blood mages had corrupted the ranks-" she scoffed, looking away from him. "You've battled blood mages. You've seen what they can do," he held a hand out to make a point. "Tell me you wouldn't have done differently."

"I would've killed them, Cullen" she stated over him. "You people say mercy but what you mean is servitude. You claim it's for the love of the Maker, but one hand holds a blade and the other holds chains."

"Unlike you?"

She took two quick steps towards him. "Death is a mercy. Life is the trial." She shook her head again.

"Death isn't a mercy." He repressed with a sneer. "How can you even say that? You were investigated for blood magic use. Should we have killed you?" he looked away from her in shame. "It's not always the answer."

"It's an end to the question."

"And that's what makes this so damn hard." He snorted at her. "To kill everyone in our path, without recourse, makes us no better than the monsters we try to protect from." He took a step. "There is no free will like that."

"You hold the chains."

"Death is too easy. And it's wrong."

"Death is preferred over fear and slavery. But when you keep them weak they have no options. So people use the only means they have through rebellion." Uthreida stated quickly. She shook her head. "And when they rose up," she exhaled hard, her brows furrowed again in pain, "you released the hounds. You let your men go from dogs to wolves. You let them become the monsters your mages feared without your control. And you let them into cities." She looked away as if to recall the entire conversation. "And you did nothing as they feasted and hunted."

He had an argument ready. He had a defense ready to asunder her. But his brows curled in pain of his shame and looked away. His fists clinching at some control over his life and found none. She held a hand over her mouth with wide eyes and a deep breath at him. Her face matching his.

He heard her breath grow deeper and harder. He looked at her with a lowered face and saw the look of pain shift into anger. Uthreida squared her shoulders and dropped her hand. She tore her eyes from him, her jaw set in disappointment. "Was I wrong? About you? About all of this?" She held her arms wide to his office. To the hold. The Inquisition. She took a shaky breath as she looked at him. Pain marring her face. "Stendarr." She whispered, slipping a hand over her face. "When" she shook her head. "Where are your ethics? Where do you draw the line? When will you see them as people?"

"When they stop reaching for demons."

"You" she bellowed louder, "are their demon." Her voice edged in a power, not from the fade.

He scoffed. "You're an assassin. A thief. And you speak to me of morals. Of ethics. You care for nothing more than your own vanity and glory. Get out."

Uthreida huffed and closed the distance, placing a hand to his chest. His eyes dropping to her hand and a sneer to her face. "Let's pretend that we're happy. That we had a child." He arched a brow. "If it were a mage, would you give her to the circle, knowing what it's like? Would you sacrifice your little girl to someone else? To let our son become weak in the Circle? To never see them again. Only to curse them for their innate connection to the land and gods. Would you?" She asked with furrowed brows, her throat closing around her words as she forced herself to speak through fear. "Would you give your child to the Order?"

Cullen looked at Uthreida with wounded eyes. After eighteen years, his answer should be obvious. After years of seeing screaming mothers hold their child, their newborn to their breast, he should know his answer. He should know doctrine. He should know why Templars rarely get married. Why the memory loss was a blessing. He knew his own nightmares. He should know the answer but remained silent. Turning his eyes away from her. His resolve fumbling as the truth of the matter was, he wouldn't. But also knew the hypocrisy of allowing others, wanting others, to do so. He wanted to distance himself from the Order. From the Chantry. But was still struggling with what that entirely meant.

Her hand slipped from his chest, her eyes sealing as she took his silence as admittance. He felt her take a step back. He felt her move away from him. He felt her retreat as her warm presence left him the cold of the mountains. "Why?" Her question was barely above a whisper. But between his thoughts and actions, their unspoken cultures, and her own thoughts, the question was vague.

"I don't know." He said softly. It seemed to fit with every thought he had. With every emotion that was starting to overwhelm him. He looked at her, a hand over her mouth in disgust as she looked at him. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to come clean with everything. He wanted to apologize for everything he's ever said, done, killed, shed blood for, each inaction, each decision, each fear-based breath.

But he couldn't. Templars are the keepers of peace. The sacrifice of mercy. They are the shield of corruption. He can't show weakness. Real or perceived. He had to show strength. He had to bottle this up and shove it aside. He had to be strong. Even as she removed herself from him.

He lifted a hand to hold her hand, to keep her close. "Utha"

Uthreida pulled her hand back. "Don't ever call me that again." She took another step away from him. Cullen felt her words like a pierced lung. "This" she stated with gritted teeth. "This is the death you promised me? By you?" Her tone was accusatory. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You?" She gave a humorless laugh. "By what right do you have to kill me? What would your victory prove?" She scoffed again. "Another wasted life." She shook her head to the ceiling. Her eyes finally fell to him. "You were supposed to be better than me in everything. But you're not. Your lack of morals and conviction only prove you are below me." She scowled. "You lied and I should've seen it. You betrayed me with a false halo, just like he said." Cullen popped his jaw at her defamation. "Another victory and Sovngarde is still out of my grasp." She ran a frustrated hand through her hair and paced. "You were supposed to send me home. To my ancestors. And this is what I get?" She growled and looked away. "This is my husband?" She scathed, and he felt it cut his skin. He watched her clench and unclench her hands into fists. She looked at him with a fire-filled hatred. "Seeing as how you will not release me, you will have to work for your victory." She looked him over again and shook her head in shame.

He clenched his hand, bringing it back to his side, and lowered his eyes. "I'm trying." He whispered. "Like you." He tilted his head to keep her back and away from him. "But of course you don't see. Of course you wouldn't understand. Can't understand."

"Then tell me" she took a step closer. "Who did I marry?" her voice was harsh, but a pleading look in her eyes.

A monster, he thought. He took a step back and hit the desk. He sat on the edge to gather himself. She married a broken man. Someone who didn't know how to make sense of the world and left it to others. Someone who followed orders blindly in the hopes that the one person who would understand would help him. Hoping that their methods proved right and effective only to realize and question far too late. Hoping that seeing the worse would benefit the better. Taking a stand too late. Driving his own life too late killed so many. Regretting calling Greagoir soft and realizing a soft but firm hand was the best method than a choking fist. Regretting letting her whispers of comfort turned into lies.

But he swallowed it back. It was all too much as his heart was beating in his ears, the threat of tears as his throat was tightening. The flame of fear, guilt, and embarrassment burned in his stomach. He looked away. Scared. Weak. Ashamed. He needed control. He needed to control this conversation. He needed to control her to control himself. "I can silence your dragon voice by choking you."

She canted a hip in annoyance as he changed the subject. Uthreida ran her hands over her face as rage took over her features. She crossed her arms, refusing to speak until he answered her question.

He cocked a brow. Her refusal only making him question the validity of the statement. He stood slowly. "Is that how it works?"

She looked him over, her rage simmering. She was silent as she thought. Cullen smirked, curious how she was going to get out of this. "You know I was an assassin." She said quietly, her face drawn in concern. "But you don't mind being alone in the same room as me."

She wasn't moving on her stance. He gave a defeated sigh. "No," he said with a soft shake of his head. "You said you walked away from it. And I know you can't lie."

Uthreida looked away, moving her hands so her thumbs tucked into her belts. She licked her lips slowly. "Please," she sealed her eyes as she spoke, "tell me" she shut her eyes, turning away from him. With a deep-held breath, she looked at him. Her red brows drawn in confliction. She was unsure of him. Of his past. She exhaled and stood before him. "Remove your gloves." She said, removing her own gauntlets. Cullen complied slowly, wondering where she was going with this. She took his hand in hers. She held his hand, with two fingers on his wrist. Her ice blue eyes met his, her lips pulled in a thin line. Searching his eyes for something, wanting to check his pulse for a lie. But as the seconds ticked, she didn't speak. She shifted their hands so they held locked thumbs with his. She lifted the back of her hand holding his hand until it rested on his brest plate over his heart. She used this gesture when they swore to one another. Why is she using it now?

She looked at him again, and again, didn't speak. Trying to formulate a thought, a sentence, and nothing worked. He could hear her teeth grind in agitation. She sighed, dropping their hands, but still holding. "You" she shook her head, looking away from him. Her jaw locked as she thought. Her body screamed in uncertainty as she tried to rationalize whatever she was thinking. She licked her lips and breathed out her frustration. She looked him over. Still uncertain of him. "I have no right to judge you." She said softly. "Actually," she said with more conviction, "I have every right." She rolled her shoulders as she looked at him. "But I won't." She looked away, more deflated. "Because you haven't." Her hand clenched his tighter. "Actually, you have. Damnit, Cullen." She waved a hand in frustration. "I should show you every ounce of disrespect that you have shown me. I should shame you with this. I should-I don't know-" she ran a free hand through her hair. "Why?" She asked herself. "Why should I forgive you?" She looked at him with wide eyes. "Why should I forgive your inaction when my code prohibits it? What's to stop you from doing it again?"

Cullen made a comical look at her but dropped his eyes to their joined hands. "Rather arrogant of you to assume I want your forgiveness."

She took a sigh of annoyance only to smirk at his comment. "Whose then?" His eyes slowly drew to the ceiling as if to ask the Maker now. "And what of the people?" Cullen looked at her as her face was etched in concern. "To seek a God's forgiveness is one thing, but how will you make it up to the people? To those you injured?"

He rubbed his neck with his free hand, his eyes going to his desktop of work, but looked away with a heavy breath. He threw himself into his work. His hopes that what the Inquisition accomplishes will be enough. That he will take action, lead, and be responsible for all the lives under his command. To atone for all the times he didn't.

"Cullen?" Her voice soft and he smelled the sage in her breath and the slight tinge of alcohol from her own addictions.

He chewed his lip. "The Inquisition is my atonement." He said softly. He had to work twice as hard as he did before, but knew leaning into this hardship, the Maker was with him. Guiding him on a better path. He slowly looked at her. The concern softened to understanding but held some conflicting emotion in her eyes.

She used her thumb to tap his hand in thought as her lips formed a hard line. "And your withdrawals is, what? Your penitence?"

He nodded shallow, looking away from her.

Uthreida took a deep, shaking breath. The silence stretched and the only thing keeping him from breaking down completely was the warmth of her hand holding his. Giving him borrowed strength for the moment. She released a breath through puffed cheeks but smirked. "Stendarr, Arkay" she said softly with closed eyes, her hand holding his becoming tighter. "Please help this man where I cannot. Help him find grace and serenity for your trials ahead."

Cullen smirked as he looked at her. "Did you just pray for me?"

She looked at him with a caught and guilty expression as her posture bent slightly in a terrible act. Her flushed grin made him match hers. She made a defeated sound. "You need all the help you can get." She released his hand and stepped away from between his knees. Replacing her gauntlets that she threw onto the desk.

"Thank you?" He said with a smirk, watching her in her silence. "I think." She flashed a quick smile as she placed her gloves on. His eyes entranced with her fingers. "Why did you stand up for me?" He met her gaze with lowered brows.

Uthreida looked away with a deep breath. "You are my husband." She stated as a fact, busying her hands with the glove. "Your battles are mine. Your history is mine." Her face was a mask of emotionless indifference but he could see the heat in her eyes as she spoke. "As mine is yours. That's how this is supposed to work."

His mind went back to the infamy of her hunt. "I don't condone your actions."

"I don't care what you think of my actions." She stated bluntly. "You are expected to respect my decisions in public."

He looked away quickly. She only stood for him because if she didn't, she would be charged the same inaction that haunted him.

She took another breath. "That." She sighed. "That was beneath me." He watched her pop her knuckles in the silence. "You took the beating. You didn't defend like you usually do. So, I stepped in." She kept her eyes averted from him. "Was I supposed to? No. An argument between men is no place for a woman unless it is to seek peace. But I didn't do that." She clenched her jaw. She ran a silent finger across the top of the desk. "And now you look weaker to him. He will tell all who will listen that I fight your battles for you. That you hide behind me."

Cullen watched as she struggled with her own actions. "So why?"

"Because you're mine." She seethed with a heat that would burned his skin. He felt his stomach clench at her admittance. Commitment. She blew from her nose auditable as she looked away. "For whatever good that does me."

Cullen felt himself smirk. "So why protect me?"

Her serious eyes looked him squarely with a slight snarl on her nose. She closed the small distance between them and whispered, "Dragons are very territorial."

Cullen swallowed hard. Between her threatening eyes and, almost, kind words. She leaned away, working her second glove. "Not everything requires a battle."

She looked at him, working the fingers. "I'm reminded of a story. Do you care to hear it?"

He flashed a smile. "It's not like I have to run an army or anything."

Uthreida met his sarcastic tone with a smile. "Short version then. Never trust a scarless man for they have not tasted the pain of life." She turned to face him, crossing her arms and resting her hip on the desk. Her look of malice seemed to simmer as she looked him over. Letting the anger go. "I think your chant has it wrong. The Maker's light isn't outside of us, it's in us. Our soul is the Maker's light. This shell though" she looked down at her armor for a moment then his, "it's meant to be damaged. It's meant to be beaten and scarred. For it is only when the leather is thinnest, can the light get through. So that our compassion from pain can light the way for others. Not in the hopes of outshining the others in the dark, but rather to help those who are blinded. To help them see the truth." She looked at him with pained eyes and sighed. "But the light also reveals monsters. Monsters that we are." She looked away in thought. "Maybe we're the monsters that the Maker fears." She made a shrug.

Cullen was confused at the train of thought she was on. "For there is no darkness in the Makers light." He quoted. "If what you postulate is true, then the light of the Maker from one would light the darkness for all."

She snapped. "What If Andraste's pire was so bright that it blinds people. That they needed the darkness to contrast so they can see." She smiled like she just figured out it the riddle.

"Then what's the point of the body?"

She cut her eyes away in thought. "Darkness, I guess?"

"But if Andraste's flame lights everything, there is no darkness?"

She held up a hand to make a counterpoint but popped her lips. "The sun" she said quickly as she looked at the windows filling the office with light. "So, the sun shines on the hold right, but the scars" she waved a hands to the windows "lets it in but...you still have candles?"

Cullen arched a brow at the woman. "So, we're not going to talk about the fact that the sun provides more light than candles and can make the sconces obsolete."

She made a face of retort but pursed her lips. "I'll work on it."

Cullen chuckled. "It's in interesting theory. Romantic" she side-eyed him in annoyance, "but" she sighed, rolling her eyes at him. Cullen smiled. "The Maker allows the darkness knowing that the light will come forth. The scars, if you like. He allows us the pain of life, the uncomfortable situations to bring forth our character, our true potential. For it is only in these moments of hardship, and pain, that we can receive his grace to rebuild the beauty and majesty. To have the endurance to keep going." He smiled when she was reflective of the teachings. "Those scars that he allows will have the ability to turn into something beautiful. For our struggles create a strength, and our strength begets endurance for more. But our strength is not measured by our capability to stand, but rather our humility to kneel before the Makers gaze." He tilted his head slightly to see her face clearer. "You're not wrong, Uthreida. You're on the right path. And I appreciate the sentiment. Thank you." She flashed a quick smirk, adjusting her belt quickly. "You're quite philosophical for some berserker."

"A Soldier obeys, a warrior thinks." She said with a pointed finger as if to quote someone he never heard of.

"What about assassins and thieves?"

She shot a playfully annoyed look. "More so. Even if the sword is sharpened each day, so too must the mind." She furrowed her brows. "What was the point of this? Right." Cullen held back a laugh. "Your atonement means shit." He dropped his smile into a scowl. "Inquisitor Royoc has offered freedom to mages, yet you do nothing with them. If you truly want atonement, put them in your ranks."

He took a deep breath to argue but snapped his jaw shut. "No."

She cocked a defiant brow at him and smirked. "Do it, or I will." Her voice was lower as she stood by her position.

Cullen met her confidence with his own. "I'll consider, if" he tilted his head at her with a predatory smile, "you answer my question."

She pulled back to reflect on it but shook her head. "Not good enough. I want payment."

He licked his lips as he looked her over. "I do this, you'll train them."

She made a face of disgust. "What was your question?"

"No no, go back." He waived a hand and smiled. "You want mage freedom, but you don't want to train them."

She sighed hard. "Look, I saved the college of mages in Winterhold and didn't use a single spell. I can't train them to use magic if I don't know magic."

"You could at least help with tactics."

She made a comical face as she pulled her head back, turning her face away from him, and made a sound like she was dying. The hesitation reminding him that she feared a war between their peoples. To give tactics is to give up her people's position. Cullen rolled his eyes at her display.

She took a deep breath and crossed her arms again. "If you train the mages to use swords, I...will...consider...assisting...in capabilities." Each word punctuated in a deeper look of pain. She shivered at something but stood taller. "Three mages per Templar should be enough to satisfy whatever the folk wishes to see to show that mages are not weak but still under control."

Cullen nodded at the idea. "Combined military service." She nodded but he drummed his fingers on the desktop. "You're trying to make us like your homeland."

Whatever emotion she was feeling before washed away into a pained hope. "It's a start. A step in a direction that allows understanding and compassion for the group that has felt repressed for so long. Hidden away like lepers of society. Having the two sides work together could help ease tensions instead of pitting them against one another."

He met her look of hope with a curling brow. "I assume you'd also like to see healing clinics in the Chantries as well."

"That would be wise. The Templars are already there anyways" she shrugged, "May as well help the people while they're there."

He offered a soft smile. Seeing her desire to help in a way that her people have been doing for centuries. He assumed. His eyes drew to the axe still in his door across the room. Anders, a healer in Darktown, never asked for coin as he aided the refugees from Ferelden. Evidence the Templars only found out after the fact.

He sighed hard, looking at her. "A step." He said softly. "I'll get with the Templar Lieutenants and see if they can spare a few to assist to train a few mages." She beamed with excitement as she stood taller. Not daring to say anything in case he changed his mind. He felt his heart grow at her excitement but smiled into his lap, feeling the heat on his neck. "If" he stood up, looking down at her with a smirk. "You can answer." She looked up at him with wide eyes and a patient smile. "Does choking you cancel your dragon shouts?"

In the seconds of her silence, her expression went from patience to an excited, lustful promise. Her face turned a deep red either through blush or not allowing herself to breathe. She bit her lips in guilt and smiled, her eyes never leaving his. Cullen's eyes grew wide at her insinuation. His own smile curling on his face. Does she like that?

Uthreida took a deep breath and fanned her face. She looked away, bent forward, and knocked her knees together as she only smiled. Cullen took a step back and tried not to laugh. She looked up, taking a cleansing breath. Her eyes were drawn to his ungloved hands. She fought the smile as best she could. She met his eyes quickly but looked away again.

"Are you serious?"

"It's" she laughed to herself, not looking at him. "You will not shame me in this." She took a calming breath again. She chuckled and hid her face in her hands. "Now I can't stop thinking about...hands." Her voice whined even as she hid her pleasure.

Cullen smirked at her girlish display and felt himself grow hot at her silent confession. "Is that what you want?" He smirked as he looked at her, allowing his voice to drop to a husk, "My hands around your throat?" His open question punctuated with crossing arms.

She threw her head back as far as her armor would allow, biting her bottom lip and sealing her eyes. Cullen's whole body was aflame as he watched her struggle with not revealing her desires and having it wash over her. Her blue eyes turned to him and smiled like a wolf. "Say it again."

A part of him wanted to do more than just say it. He looked away, swallowing back his baser instincts in his tightening throat. His hands clenching at his sides. He cleared his throat and had to forcibly remove his smile with a hand. "I think we're done here."

"Look, no" she cut her hand through the air to stop him. "Do not tease me like that." Her smile threatening to break her face. "You can't just say it and walk away."

Cullen took a step back, licking his lips in embarrassment as he learned of her more than he cared to. He coughed and took a breath to fight the heat. He knew they both looked like adolescent teens and could only smile at how it would appear. "As my wife," he stated slowly, taking another step back, "I would never put my hands on you, like that." He dropped his eyes again. "In that context." He heard her groan and looked up to see a board expression, even if she was still fighting the smile. He cleared his throat again, "But it'll work though?"

"Oh, it'll do something."

His blush renewed with vigor at her implied tone and knowing grin. His eyes turned to the north door as he waited for a soldier to barge in and see the two of them blushing like idiots even though they stood six feet apart. His smile not abating as an embarrassed laugh was forcing its way up his throat. He swallowed it back. He closed his eyes and took a breath. Damn this woman. "Thank you, Uthreida, for stopping by today. You can go now." He held a hand to his face to hide his smile. Realizing that he was due for another shave. His eyes slowly looked to her to see if she saw his blush and smile.

She bit her lips and crossed the room in silence, the red on her face was dissipating. She pulled the axe from the door with more effort than he was expecting and collected her helm and sword from the floor. She exited the south door, but turned to look at him quickly, something flashed behind her eyes.

Cullen watched her stand there uncomfortably as she smiled at a thought but she scrunched her nose as she looked at him. A question burning her tongue. It was comical to watch as she shifted her weight continuously. Opened her mouth to ask, but biting it back, holding a hand over her mouth to stop herself. She had a hand on her hip and sighed. "Do you have a penis?"

Cullen was stunned silent at her question and then blush creeping over her face. The words clicked and he leaned forward in a bluster of a laugh. "I beg your pardon. Uthreida. That is, that's, that's entirely inappropriate." It was his turn to shift uncomfortably at her gaze.

She only rolled her eyes at his statement even as she smiled. "I need to know if I'm about to hang a mage by his intestines." She waved a hand to get him to speak. "If your men raped, then-" she flung a hand to make her point.

Cullen chortled like a boy. He cleared his throat quickly. He cocked a knowing brow at her. "I mean if you're interested in seeing-"

She waved her hands quickly to stop him. "I'll take your word on it."

Cullen looked at her, biting back his smile. She made several vague hand gestures for him to speak while obscurely waving at him and her own junction. Her face turning red as she awaited his response. Each movement was forced and not at all like her usual robust behavior. "You can leave now."

"Got it." She shut the door behind her quickly and Cullen leaned forward to stifle his laugh.

Xxxx

Shit.

Uthreida wiped a hand across her face, feeling the rage and anger return to her.

Stupid.

He's getting too close.

She took a deep breath and reset her face to an emotionless mask as she descended the stairs back to the stables.

She let him get too close.

Fuck.

It was an accidental reveal in Markarth. Farkas was training her, beating her, when she was already sore and exhausted from the Incident and Foresworn Uprising. His anger of the situation flowed through his training as his friend, Argis the Bulwark, now had to capture and arrest the false king. Again.

Her actions killed the people and let lose another rebellion in Skyrim when it wasn't needed. And he didn't restrain himself when she fought against him in training. Farkas had shoved her into the stone wall and shouted in her face that she needed to move smarter, to be better for the people, and in her anger, prepared her Yol shout at him.

In his fear, he sealed her throat.

The fire burned her esophagus and she had to cancel it as quickly as she pulled the words.

Both of them looked at one another in surprise and he backed off. Realizing what he just discovered and she knew that a dragon born had one weakness. Farkas never spoke of it, but would threaten her with it when the dragon became too much to control.

A weakness she used in Mirrak. Who only smirked at his own mortal folly.

She let Cullen believe it was something more than what it was. When Hawke ran, she wanted to bend his will. She wanted to kill both of them for knowing this. She wanted to rip the memory from them. She wanted to watch Cullen cross his office on all fours to her and sit patiently as her knife went across his throat. The dragon cannot be seen as weak.

But she swore. This war isn't over yet. His life isn't hers yet.

So, using his own chastity against him, she inadvertently lied. While her words were truth, her deception was better than his insight. She did think of his hands, and how much she wanted to chop them off. She did get excited at the prospect of him trying again, and her knife plunging into his heart when he did. The idea sent her blood pumping.

She returned back to the stables where Captain Rylen was waiting for her. Her punishment for failing to kill the dragon was to inform the Commander herself. So she would take the brunt of his rage. Happy coincidences being what they are. Rylen had ordered his men to recover from the trip when he turned to see her. "Slayer," he said in the usual broguish way. "How's it go." His eyes raked over her quickly with a brow.

"He was not happy if that's what you're excited to hear." She stated with a smile.

The Captain smirked. "I'd imagine."

"How did Lady Josephine take it?"

He gave a quick sheepish expression. "She said it was fine. She'll fix it." He crossed his arms looking her over. "She wants ya to report to her as soon as possible."

Uthreida gave a nod but smiled. She had grown to like the Captain. And he was kind enough to fill in the blanks of 'peaceful' Templar life where Cullen didn't seem to know of it. He was a good man with a genuine concern for his men and a pragmatic approach to the chantry. He reminded her of General Tullus in a way. She found she respected him. Kindly thanking the gods that didn't mention her trial or his findings. Or his personal opinions of such.

She gave a nod to the passive order. "I'll gather my belongings and report."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me," he gave a heavy sigh, his blue eyes shifting to the same tower she just exited, "I have to give my brief." His blue tattoos caught the sun as he nodded at her. "Don't dawdle and wear a good shirt. Lady Josephine apparently has a full schedule for the day. Present yourself in a manner that is, I don't know, presentable, I guess." She smiled at his order. His silence was thick as he looked her over. "I know we talked about this, but" he sighed, lowering his voice, "We're already fighting one dragon priest. May not be the best situation to showcase that we have one too." He said softer. Her jaw clenched at his phrasing. She's not a priest. Especially after all the history, she knew of them. But if he began to insuiate to others that she is, she'll need to have a private talk with this Captain. "After this, you can't save any more dragons. You have to kill them."

She held her lips in a thin line as she averted her gaze from him.

"Lady Uthreida" he said softer to keep the conversation between them, "you have to put them down." He ran a hand through his short, mahogany hair. "I'm nea going to ask how you tamed that dragon, but if Corypheus finds out that you did," he let the sentence hang for her to figure out the consequences of her actions in the field. "The Commander married you to keep you from Avvar and orders us to protect you in the field. If the Venatori finds out and try to take you" he offered a worried look, "I will not have my men killed needlessly. Please, Lady, don't do this again. When they order you to kill a dragon-"

She held up a hand to stop him. "I will do what is right given the circumstances."

He looked at her in silent displeasure but gave a hard sigh. He pointed a hand to her face and quietly seethed "Don't get my men killed."

She clenched her jaw. Her eyes hazed as she ignored his order, but nodded to send him on his way. He seemed to notice the dismissal with a shake of his head. He strode past her to the stairs to the Commander's tower.

She watched him leave only to roll her eyes as he started on the steps. Her eyes moved back to the stables where Master Dennett was beginning to wash down Ragnar. She should leave him be. A familiar laugh caught her attention. Blackwall was speaking to some of the Soldiers she traveled with. He seemed enthralled with their story as she collected her pack and made her way across the bailey. The keep seemed to be in better spirits since she left. Her eyes caught a few passing servants who looked away as she walked. Couldn't just sit down could you, the Commander bellowed. At least she did something. Her mind turned to her husband. The way he looked like a wounded dog, in half armor, but had the decency to look guilty of his actions. The lack of integrity and courage of the man is what upset her the most. His willingness to do nothing as evil perverted the ranks. Allowing his men to lose sight, lose purpose, sickened her. But how many times could she claim the same? She sighed as she entered the main hall to the gardens. He was throwing himself into a higher power. He was doing something now. And given that she didn't answer his question about the choking, she doubted if he would look to the people that he abanded for his position.

Her eyes flicked to Mother Giselle who was tending a bush in the garden. She stopped to watch the woman. How tight is the leash of the Chantry? Captain Rylen spoke briefly of what lyrium was like. Of what the withdrawals feel like. She wondered how else the Chant enslaved their followers. She wondered if her religion did the same.

Her eyes turned to the garden in whole. The people there didn't want the chains. The Inquisition was stamping out the old traditions in hopes of a positive change for the future, weren't they? Her eyes went back to the Mother with her pack over one shoulder. Is that what the Mother wants? To return to the status quo? What did Royoc want? He wanted power, she knew that much, but to what extent? Did the status quo offer more power or uprooting traditions?

"Good afternoon, child." Mother Giselle said. Uthreida realized she was staring and averted her gaze. The Mother's eyes were soft and she could tell there was a true level of care. Her eyes were like what Utherida expected to see from Mara. Understanding and unconditional love of her supporters. "What troubles you?"

Uthreida found herself silent. She didn't know if it was from the formal vestments of a woman who stood in stark contrast to her own religion or her dark armor. She looked away again. Her eyes went back to the Commander's tower that she couldn't see over the wall. Uthreida took a breath and entered the garden. She set her pack by the opening as Giselle approached her hesitantly. Again, unsure if it was her religion or black armor. She tried to speak but found her jaw tightened at the thought. She took a loud exhale as she looked at the trees in the garden, the flowers of the mountains. "How do I forgive a person's actions that don't affect me, but still sicken me because it goes against what I believe?" The Mother's eyes widened for a moment at the very deep and blunt theological questions but adverted her eyes in thought. "Stendarr teaches mercy is given in one hand, so that healing can be given with the other. But how do you look past transgressions of another? What does the Maker say?"

Mother Giselle gave a patient smile but opened her hand in invitation to a bench further in the garden. Uthreida followed. "May I ask what this is about?"

"No," Uthreida said, sitting with the woman on the bench.

She smiled softly. "You are aware that I cannot repeat what is said to me during confessions, yes?"

Uthreida found herself leaning her elbows against her knees. "And what of them." Her eyes turned to the people standing in the garden. A few watched the pagan speak to the Mother. She shook her head. "It's not my place to speak ill or of it."

"Your concern gives you place."

Uthreida took a breath and released it through her nose. She was right. If it wasn't her place to ask, then it shouldn't be her place to care. Or to have a concern. She smirked at the woman's wisdom. Uncertain if it was a means of gossip or true humility. "I just learned that a-" a what? Friend? The man is ready to kill her and she, him. "They had the ability, the position to change things. To save people. To fix everything, but didn't. They allowed depravity, allowed torture against those they were supposed to protect. They turned their backs on the most basic fundamental values." She said, realizing she was speaking through clenched teeth. "How are you supposed to forgive that? How am I supposed to look at them and not see the inevitable betrayal in everything that they do?" She shook her head at herself, her eyes closing the ideas she had created. She saw Cullen as a Thane first. Someone who helped the innocents first. The implied virtues of integrity, courage, and selflessness. And now, "I thought he was better than this." she said softly.

Mother Giselle was silent as she reflected. "Sometimes, the pain of someone else's past is often derived from our own pain. The sickness we see in our own sins. The learned loathing that comes with it." Uthreida clenched her jaw at the woman's perceptions. "Not all of us are born saints, Lady Slayer. But rather, only through great sins and humility, are they achieved. To desire to be more holy, to be more like the Maker" she paused, looking Uthreida over, "or like the gods" she said with a soft smile. Uthreida met it, honoring the mother's small heresy for ease of understanding, "to find the serenity of his grace. To lean into the Maker to show us a better path." The older woman looked her over thoughtfully. "Is this person remorseful of what they had done?"

Uthreida dropped her eyes to her hands. Cullen's usual intimidating eyes were drowning in regret during their talk. "Aye."

Mother Giselle nodded softly. "Judging can be helpful if used appropriately. If done to a loved one, can motivate them to be better. But you must be the paragon of the virtues that you judge against. If you cannot, then you become the sycophant, further driving the thorn of the individual's pain."

Uthreida nodded. She had to live the value that she expected. But she had deceived the man. Could she really be a paragon of integrity or courage if she isn't honest with her own weaknesses?

"There is a humility that comes with forgiveness." Mother Giselle said softer. "A level of understanding that people are people and sometimes will falter in their lives. But to forgive is to give the mercy of a second chance."

"Why?" Uthreida asked tougher. He failed. He failed at every turn. He betrayed his men. His people. His charges.

She smiled softly. "Mercy."

Uthreida looked away. Lowering her head in shame at her quick judgments. No one is beyond the mercy of Stendarr. No one is unloved by Mara. No one is ugly before Dibella. She breathed out regret.

"Forgiveness allows healing." Mother Giselle continued. "It allows us to forgive others, by admitting they are human and allows us to forgive ourselves from our own transgressions. Whether through our own judgments or the pain of walking a similar path. This humility allows us to have an open heart for compassion, unity, and understanding. An open heart allows the love and grace of the Maker to shine through us."

Uthreida took a hard breath. "If that's the case, your prison cells must be empty."

Mother Giselle only sat silently, waiting for her harshness to pass. "Judgments in the name of justice or truth are often more convoluted than we like to admit. These ideals become cemented in our beliefs that we create with a hardened heart. It is only through mercy do we gain the vulnerability to see past these harsh objectives and see the person, and their potential, for who they truly are. To grant them the mercy to change. And let the love of the Maker flow through us to help heal others around us."

Uthreida clenched her jaw. Vulnerable to the Makers will. Vulnerable to Stendarr's will. "Never refuse aid you are capable of providing." She repeated the tenet of Stendarr. "What if he doesn't change?" She asked softer. "What if he does it again?"

Mother Giselle gave a single nod. "Your forgiveness to this person must be with a whole and honest heart. If you believe they will sin again, you must remind them of their recourse and guide them. Mercy allows us to see past the ideals of monsters, but rather to see the other as a person with flaws, wounds, and suffering. When we forgive others, we can start to forgive ourselves."

Uthreida's mind was taken to Paarthurnax. He had killed thousands, but she let him live because of the life he was trying to live. To deny his instincts for peace. She never forgave him because she never felt the need to. She was so far removed from the transgression that her forgiveness needn't have mattered. Or maybe she did when she defended him against Delphine. So what of Frey? She let him go but never forgave him knowing Brynjolf would take care of it. She understood Farkas being a werewolf. She understood Serana being a vampire. She understands Dorian being a necromancer. She was emotionally removed from these decisions. They made a choice and were doing something with it. Is it not the same? Why should she care now? Why does she care? What should she care if Cullen falls?

Because he reflects her. He is her husband. Uthreida gave a sigh. "I'm starting to think that my desire to forgive isn't entirely altruistic."

Mother Giselle gave a knowing look. "Then why do you care?"

She breathed her own lies. "Because he should know better." Giselle was silent as Uthreida scathed her anger. "He should be better." She clenched her jaw.

"You want him to be better."

Uthreida dropped her eyes. She did. Cullen was supposed to be better than her. He was supposed to be worthy, honorable, true. But he's not. He was supposed to be more than she was to be worthy of her death. If she is to walk in the Hall of Valor, it will be an honorable death by an honorable opponent. Its why she agreed to this farce of a marriage. She wanted his blade. She wanted her seat in the Hall.

"Show mercy, so he can prove to you that he can be."

Uthreida sat up and crossed her arms. "He should be tried." She scathed. "His failures-"

"Are his own." Mother Giselle said calmly.

"There's no justice in forgiveness."

The Mother shook her head softly. "Justice and mercy do not live side by side, Lady Slayer." Uthreida looked at her with a lowered brow. "It is a choice we must make. To give one or the other." Uthreida looked away. "They are two separate coins. Justice condemns, mercy heals."

That's why she never forgave Frey. His justice came. Uthreida looked away, her eyes falling to the pot of an odd-looking vine in thought. "Mercy is a divine concept where justice is mortal."

"Precisely."

She closed her eyes. She didn't forgive the others because she passed judgment. They proved their worth. All others were slaughtered. The dragon blood demanded justice even if they were divine creatures. She opened her eyes and saw the elf root again. She leaned forward on her knees. "I've spent so long being the executioner," she said softly, "I don't know if I can forgive."

"If you are unsure of your position, I would suggest," she said with a nod, her huge hat tilting with the movement, "to seek understanding first." Uthreida clenched her jaw but nodded. "May I pray for you and your choice ahead?"

Uthreida gave a soft laugh at the notion. "You probably should. One of us is going to need it."

Uthreida arched a brow as the Mother folded her hands and bend her neck in prayer. Now? "Mighty Maker, please help my friend to forgive this person. Help her to see the greatness in them and to love them the way that you do." Uthreida looked at her with wide eyes but breathed out the thought of divine love. "Help her to relinquish the anger that she's experiencing so that she can walk in your garden of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and gentleness. Help her to heal from this incident and to release any bitterness that she may be harboring. Please, blessed Maker, give guidance in this situation, so that she can approach it in the way that is most pleasing to you and her gods. Help her, Glorious One, to do your will. In your name, we pray." Mother Giselle offered a moment of silence before opening her eyes to Uthreida. A small smile returning to her face.

Uthreida brows curled in thanks to the woman. She looked across the garden, to a tree that swayed in the wind. She pulled the hammer of Talos from under her armor and held it in her hand. "Do you mind if I pray?"

A quick look of concern crossed the mother's face before she nodded. A wicked thought of jumping in a circle and chanting in gibberish to scare her while casting a fireball made Uthreida smile for a moment. But the hammer in her hand stayed her thought. Her eyes went back to the tree, the orange and yellow leaves above as they rustled.

"Stun, Tsun, Stendarr, Arkay, bless my enemies. Bless them, but do not curse them. For my enemies have driven me to you more than friends. For my enemies loosen me from the earth and its aspirations. For my enemies have made me stronger as I seek shelter in your temples. Bless my enemies, Great Divines, as they in the realm will be the ones to confess my sins, punish me for my transgressions, torment me should I flee, and humble me when I braggart. Bless them for undermining my strengths, for belittling my thoughts, for awakening me in times of sloth, and for holding me back from my charity. Bless my enemies, Gods of Trials, for I see your hand in their actions. I see your divinity in their justice of me. Bless them, but do not curse them. Bless them." She smiled as she saw a crow fly above her. "And bring me more. For my seat is reserved in your halls. And it is my enemies who will deliver me. Bless them, so that I may earn my mead." She smiled again as the tree groaned louder in the wind. She nodded, holding the hammer of Talos in her hand. "Gods be good." Uthreida placed the hammer below her armor again.

She smiled at the mother who returned a softer one. Though, unsure of what she just witnessed. "Thank you for speaking with me today."

Uthreida nodded. "Thank you for your wisdom." She looked to the tree before them. "The path is clearer now."

Mother Giselle stood but waited for her. "May the Maker watch over you."

"Divines blessings to you." Uthreida exited the gardens, retrieving her pack, and resumed her path to her quarters. She found herself curious about the full story of Kirkwall. She lowered her brows as she fished the key to her chambers and pushed it into the lock. Would Varric know the story? Throwing her pack on the bed, she looked at her alter again. Nothing moved, nothing inspected. She ran a hand along the locked drawers of her dresser. The few hairs she had placed between the drawers had been moved. They were still searching her quarters when she left the hold. She didn't light the candles yet as she peeked out through the frosted glass of her window. She removed her boots and socks. She placed her socks over the feet of the chair. She moved the chair to sit in her bed and climbed. She pulled herself up to look above the broken wood from the hole in her ceiling. The dragon elder scroll she had hidden up there. No other movement in the dust assured her that the spies haven't found it yet.

Thank the gods.

But she needs a new place to hide it. Someplace not in her quarters for her next excursion.

Uthreida bathed, completed a wipe down of her armor, and dressed for a meeting with Lady Josephine. But, her mind kept going back to Cullen's office and her conversation with mother Giselle. She adjusted her red doublet with black brocade and checking her black breeches for dirt. Her single ebony blade on her hip just in case. This was the best-looking outfit she had and most of it was thanks to Lady Vivienne.

It was late afternoon when she headed to Lady Josephine's office. But she needed to make a stop first.

Dorian stood in his usual alcove in the library. She approached and he turned to greet her. "Slayer" he smiled, "how was your hunting triiiii-" he doubled over when she slapped him in the back of the head.

He looked up at her with a heated glair as his hands started to smolder. "What in the bloody void-" he scathed. He pulled back his magic and looked down at her.

Uthreida held a single finger to his face. "Don't ever lie to me again." Her heated whisper barely heard over the gaggle that was silently watching them.

His hand when to his head to hold the injury as his face fell in disrespecting betrayal. "What the fuck are you going on about?"

"You lied. To my face."

"About what?" His voice rising an octave as a hand flared at her.

"About" she fought the urge to smile at her own stupidity of believing him. She should've known. But she believed him anyway. She crossed her arms and pouted before looking at him. He didn't get the situation and she sighed. "About southern Templars." She said quieter. His nose wrinkled as he looked down at her, still not understanding. She dropped her eyes to his junction and made a face for him to catch up with the conversation.

He blinked slowly. "So you slapped me for that?" He screeched. "Maker, woman. A slap to the chest would've been more efficient."

"Are you going to lie to me again?" She arched a superior brow to show him his place.

He cocked his own flamboyant expression. "Purely out of spite now." She folded her arms tighter. She came in too strong. She looked at him when his anger simmered and the silence grew too thick. He had a knowing smile on his face. "How did you find out?" She looked away quickly, feeling the heat rise on her face. Her face drew down in anger even as she averted her gaze. The mage laughed and quickly held his stomach again. "How did he respond?"

"That is beside the point." She stated quickly. She pointed at his chest again. "You deceived me and lied-"

"I played a game on the foreigner. Yes, you got me. And you believed it. It's not my fault your so naive. Forgive me for having a bit of fun" he finished between more laughter. "I'm sorry if seeing you blush was worth it."

"I'm not" she gave an aggravated sound as she knew she was but couldn't lie about it. He only laughed at her more. She folded her arms again, knowing it was a humorous situation, but was spurned that it happened to her. "Don't do it again."

He crossed his arms and smirked. "Why?"

"Because" she hid her face in both of her hands, "it was embarrassing." She admitted like a child.

He awkwardly patted her shoulder twice. "There there."

She waved her hands to get him off like shooing a bug. "Don't condescend to me. I'm still mad."

"Be mad, I don't care." He gave a playful chuckle. "I'm not the one you have to-" he didn't even finish as he laughed harder at the situation. Leaning a hand on the bookshelf to steady himself from his own joke.

Uthreida only fisted her hands at her sides as she took his poking. Feeling the humility of the situation. "You're a horrible person."

"I know." He smiled down at her, laughing softer to himself. "Seriously though, how did you find out, hmm?" Uthreida rolled her eyes with a smirk and walked off. "Keep your secrets then." He called after her.

She smiled as she descended the stairwell and waved at Solas who seemed more off-put by the friendly greeting than responding. Maybe they weren't as close as she thought. Or at least friendly. Understandable.

She moved to attack Varric from behind with a hug but noticed Hawke sitting with Varric. The Champion had an expression as if he was ready for another round with her. She removed the smile from her face as she kept her stride for Lady Josephine's office.

She lifted a hand to knock but stopped. She heard voices inside and pressed an ear to the door. It was a soft conversation between Lady Josephine and the Inquisitor. She could make out the tone of the conversation but not the specific words. She had heard by rumor that the Inquisitor was a bit of a flirt. Is that what was going-

A throat cleared behind her.

Uthreida looked over her shoulder with a guilty smile at a dark-haired woman who stood in expensive green and blue silks. Her arms crossed over her chest and an annoyed dark brow raised. One of Lady Josephine's agents if she had to guess.

Uthreida stood up, adjusting her doublet. "Ah, I was told to report." She jutted a thumb at the door to indicate which office.

The woman's eyes dropped to Uthreida's belt and single black blade with the same look of suspiciousness. The woman gave a sound of exhaustion and stepped between Uthreida and the door. She gave a quick three taps and waited. There was a pause before Lady Josephine called for an entry. The woman opened the door first and entered. Uthreida followed. She took a breath and removed any trace of unpleasantness from the day as she entered.

The two sat at a table with a small plate of snacks and drinks between them. Royoc was aloof as he turned in his chair to see the door where Josephine seemed flushed. Uthreida smirked knowing what she interrupted.

"Lady Josephine," the woman said with an Orlesian accent. "The Dragon Slayer claims you requested an audience."

Josephine stood to meet her. "Yes, please." She smiled at Uthreida but nodded to the woman. "Thank you, Molley." The woman gave courtesy and exited.

Uthreida looked at Josephine and gave a sheepish smile. "I'd like to apologize. Knight-Captain Rylen informed me of your conversation. It was not my intent to make your job more difficult on my account. My code was tested and I am not ashamed of what I did. However, if there is anything you need of me to correct this-."

Josephine looked confused for a moment then tittered behind her hand realizing she was speaking of the failed dragon hunt. "Lady Uthreida, it is no problem."

"Are you quite sure? Because-" Josephine interrupted her as she jut a thumb to the Commander's tower.

"It is alright." She waved a hand to sever the apologies. "According to Knight-Captain Rylen, his report was honest if blunt. I have sent our apologies to the Duke letting him know that our renowned Dragon Slayer was disappointed at this year's hunt. That sometimes, it's an insult to prove one is the best. And that you look forward to next year's hunt with, hopefully, a worthy opponent."

Uthreida pulled her head back, taking in her rendition of the events and how she spun it in Uthreida's favor while politely embarrassing the Duke for setting his hunters against a child. "Thank you. For your understanding." Uthreida stated lamely with a smile at the woman.

She gave a humble bow to her. "Do not worry about that. It will be taken care of. Now," she moved to step away from the table as she approached Uthreida with an extended hand. She took the woman's hand as she pulled her to the center of the room. "Payment for your services arrived while you were away." Josephine held a book as she approached Uthreida. "Let's see," she ran a hand over the ledger to find her name. "Ah, Uthreida, for two dragons at eight hundred per slain minus one hundred and twenty-eight, brings the total to one thousand, four hundred and seventy-two royals. Sign here, please." she held a pen to Uthreida with one hand and pointed to where she needed to sign as proof of payment on the ledger. Uthreida signed her name but Josephine made a face as she turned to look at it. She made a polite smile. "Do you mind if I-"

Uthreida lowered a brow at the woman. Josephine took the pen and started to write. Uthreida watched in fascination as her hand moved in loops and circles only to have lines and triangles ink across the page. Uthreida watched in morbid fascination as the ink didn't do what it was supposed to. Josephine moved to make a cross mark but the ink didn't transfer. Uthreida saw the page as her name was written twice.

Josephine looked at her with a smile but faltered when she saw Uthreidas gaze. "Did I misspell it? I'm so sorry."

"No, it's" Uthreida blinked back a few times. The language, decipher, thing. She barely remembered it half the time. She shook her head. She forgot that was a thing she was afflicted with. "It's fine." She said with a smirk.

Josephine nodded, but a look of confusion was hidden behind her smile. She placed the book on her desk. "If you wait here, I'll go get your gold."

"Do you need help?" Uthreida offered as she moved to the east door of her office.

"No, I can manage, but thank you."

Josephine turned to exit and she looked at Royoc who stayed seated in his chair. She widened her eyes and tilted her head to the door, indicating he should follow.

The Inquisitor only arched a blonde brow and smirked. He shifted his brown eyes to the desk, then back at her.

Uthreida looked at the desk of papers neatly stacked and organized. He was concerned she would sabotage Josephine's work. She looked back at the man who rested his arm in the back of the chair before the fire. He had a point.

She mentally grunted. There's no way that small woman could lift that much gold by herself. Maybe she had guards on the other side of the door.

Royoc cleared this throat and Uthreida looked at him. He was smiling, looking her over. She made a confused face and looked down at herself. She thought the outfit was smart as she rested her hands on the pommel of her blade. His knowing smile only grew as he met her eyes. A slight pause happened in her mind as she realized she was standing like the Commander. She moved her hand to rest in her hip with a sheepish smile.

He gave a polite smile but opened his hand to the empty seat. "If I may, there is a concern that has been brought to my attention that I'd like to discuss with you. Please."

Uthreida crossed the room slowly with a skeptical look. She looked down at his seated position but took the invitation. He noticed her hesitation but smiled to calm her down. "Some of the nobles are" he paused, taking the wine glass stem between his fingers, "they don't quite know what to make of you." Uthreida blinked slowly. Her disingenuous care of their thoughts apparent in her face. "Between your wardrobe and armor, they are, shall we say, frightened of you." She scoffed. They should be. "They don't know where your loyalties lie." She arched a brow at the comment. In truth, she didn't know either. Fereldan was obvious, and the Inquisition was a stepping stone. "I would like to request a slight change to your armor."

"No." She stated quickly. Her enchantments only work on a full matching set.

"My lady, a simple change to your vambraces with the Inquisition symbol would-"

"No." Her vambraces held the fortify one-handed enchantment. She can't risk losing it against dragons. Further, from the scant library, this land's methods of enchanting was different from her own. She didn't if know she could refit an armor set here.

"Your breastplate then. Our armory could certainly outfit-"

"No." Not the fortify carry weight that made her armor lighter. And with her bad back, she couldn't risk that either against dragons.

"Paint then? White paint placed in your breastplate in the symbol of-"

"No." Her armor was black and shielded her in case she had to sneak through places. The white would only give away her position. Plus, placing paint across her breast would distort the image.

Royoc clenched his jaw. "A sword then that showcases the flaming eye of the -"

"No." Her Akaviri blade was the only one that held an enchantment against dragons. Even then it was a foreign blade and she didn't fully understand the enchantment to replace it on another blade. Her ebony sword held the life drain to aid her in hand-to-hand combat. Her axe held the same vampiric enchantment but the axe was her lively hood. Her bow held the drain soul enchantment to refill soul gems needed to replenish her enchantments.

He swallowed back his bitterness at her failure to comply. He smiled though. "A shirt then? Something that shows comradery and unification between yourself and the Inquisition?"

She arched a brow at the comment. "Do you impose these same restrictions for the other mercenaries in your cause?"

He gave a sigh. "They don't kill dragons or have the political pull that you have. Your connection to King Alistair makes you a threat to the others."

And him, she assumed. "Let them think what they will."

He tilted his jaw in gave a quick, haughty smirk. "How the nobles view us is how the people will view us. They will see an organization of banded mercenaries who will become no better than the ruffians and thugs that currently plague their own lands." He stood slowly to keep her calm. "All I ask is for a slight modification to placate the nobles and people."

She arched a brow at the comment. "Let them fear me." It was a concept she was accustomed to. The last time she wore matching armor, she had no honor. Forging her own way based on her own beliefs was her way.

He ran a hand over his blond hair but was still wearing his disarming smile. "Lady Slayer, you are worthy of fear. However, all I ask is a visible show of commitment to the Inquisition."

"My being here is not enough?"

He tilted his head whimsically to stop himself from speaking. "The people see you as a black paladin-"

"What does that even mean?"

He looked at her cautiously but lowered his eyes. "It means you follow your own code and not tied to any lords of the lands. That you will dole out justice as you see fit with little care of the law or consequences." She paused to reflect, then shrugged. He wasn't wrong. "That lack of commitment and public oath is what draws their questions. Are you committed to the Inquisition and to our cause? If you are committed, why not show it?"

She lowered a brow at him. "And will you, Inquisitor, take accountability for my actions?"

"I already am." He gestured to Josephine's desk to indicate the failed hunt.

"So why should I take accountability for your actions?"

"My actions are my own."

"Aye." She stated defiantly. "No one is accountable for you. You desire to placate the nobles whose gold you take with both hands" he gave an ironic laugh. Uthreida watched him with growing calculations. "Knowing what the Inquisition is doing, if you discover that Chantry doctrine goes against basic rights and liberties, will you reveal your findings to the people? Will you rebel against the standing orders of the Chantry to change for the people, or will you maintain the status quo? Will you be a bloodied saint or a clean heretic?"

Royoc lowered his chin at her, his eyes growing darker as he gaged her. "I will do what is necessary." He said rolling his shoulders slightly.

"For whom? The people, or the nobles? Or you?"

"The nobles are the people."

She arched a knowing brow. "The people scrape by to survive while the nobles spend their taxes on parties and bolts of fabric weaved by someone outside of their home. Who will you defend when it comes to light the Maker doesn't exist?"

"The Maker exists." He defended.

But she took a breath. "No one is immune to propaganda." Knowing he fed the false hope that he was chosen by the Maker.

He arched a brow at her point. "Careful." He warned and she smirked.

Cullen asked her to take over. Asked her to put an end to this. But Royoc was unarmed. And unaware of what she was capable of. She could rebuild Thedas. The Inquisition could be her sword. But the dragons were still attacking Skyrim. And Ulfric needed to know she would be there to hold his leash. The Thalmor were still a threat and Cryodiil was weakened. She looked back at Royoc. "My contract is my proof of commitment."

Royoc seemed to relax at the comment. "The people desire a visible confirmation."

She silently reviewed him. Trying to figure his angle. Knowing he desired power, what does he gain from this? She, as she is, removed her as a possible competition from his interests. As the replacement in the event, he failed. Why commit to this cause just to silence the noble's whisperings? If he feared her, if he intended to betray her in the end, why tie himself to her?

The door opened and both turned their attentions to Josephine who was struggling to carry two heavy purple leather bags.

Royoc moved immediately to assist her. She gave a kind and thankful smile to the man as they set it down on her desk. She gave a breath of exertion and smiled at Uthreida. "I should've taken your help." She laughed softly to herself, wiping a hand across her brow. She patted the bag she was carrying and smiled. "One thousand, four hundred and seventy-two royals as commissioned."

Uthreida smirked at the woman. There was a strength to her she didn't expect to find. A smile crossed Uthreida's face as she approached the bags. She opened the drawstring and pulled out a single coin. "One" she said, setting it on the table. Royoc groaned but Josephine laughed. "Two" she stacked the coins.

"Lady Uthreida," Josephine assisted, "I have a scale if you like." She gestured with an open hand to said scale in her office.

Uthreida only lifted the bag to get the weight of it. It was heavy. Even she would have difficulty with it. And there are two bags of gold.

Do not hoard wealth.

The teachings of Stendarr ringed in her ears as she looked at the two stacked pieces of gold. She looked at Josephine with soft eyes but she looked confused at the silent communication. "I believe I will meet you halfway." She said to Royoc. She walked behind Josephine's desk and pulled the knife from her boot. She cut the lowest part of the Inquisition banner off and held the six-foot by three-foot tapestry across her shoulders with the flaming eye embroidery. She saw Josephine's look of mild panic and silent ordering for Royoc to do something. But he only arched a brow at Uthreidas display.

Uthreida stood before the desk again, laid the tapestry on the ground, and dumped the bag of gold on it. She slowly sifted her fingers through the gold checking each for authenticity. It seemed legit considering she didn't know what she was looking for. She took the second bag and dumped half on the tapestry and did the same thing. Looking at the gold splayed across the black tapestry, a part of her wanted to roll in it.

She handed the other half of the second bag back to Josephine. "A donation to the efforts."

Josephine took the bag slowly with both hands. "Thank you." She said softly. Unsure as to why this dragon was relinquishing her horde but also not allowing her to go back on her word.

She suffered a soft smile as she turned back to the tapestry. She rolled the fabric so it encased the gold and tied a knot at the ends to sling it over her shoulder. She stumbled slightly at the weight of the gold but righted herself. She gave a salute to the two as she made her exit and back to her quarters.

Her mind questioned where in Oblivion was she going to keep this much gold knowing her room was being searched every time she left. She turned to see if she could ask Josephine to keep it in the vault but gave a pained look knowing the Inquisitor was still in there. She made a big deal about walking out with it, she can't very well turn around now.

This just wasn't practical.

She gave a defeated sigh and turned back to the garden. Her eyes catching Varric. And Hawke. Who was glaring at her.

Varric waved a hand for her to come over. The tapestry started to bite into her shoulder and she waved a hand to indicate she had to do something first. He gave a nod and allowed her to finish.

Uthreida crossed the gardens and looked at the stairs. She could feel her back spasm from the idea.

She grunted. Well, that's just the onion on the salmon.

Xxxxx

Cullen reviewed his reports quickly before the meeting. Uthreida pulled something from her pack and boot. She was holding a potato and a dagger. She was cutting off pieces like one would an apple, and eating it. He blinked slowly. After her return to the Hold, Royoc had requested her presence for the war council that night. He pulled her from the dining area while she was talking to Hawke and Varric, in a red doublet and single sword on her hip as she laughed with the two men. She was perturbed at his presence when he collected her. And now, sat across the room from him. Making as little conversation as possible with him. "Are you… eating a raw potato?"

She chewed slowly. "You pulled me from my dinner. I'm hungry."

"Still" his brows were knitted in confusion, "Raw? Really?"

She swallowed and cut off another piece. "Which is better, building a fire on the side of a mountain at night during a war to cook a potato, or sucking it up and eating raw." She gave a pointed look at him and popped the piece in her mouth. He gave a disgusted look, and she smirked in victory. "Not all of us have had the luxury that you have, Commander."

He opened his mouth to retort when the War Room doors opened for the Inquisitor, Sister Nightingale, and Lady Montilyet. Uthreida stood at the trio as they entered. Royoc nodded at her then proceeded to the table. Utherida retook her seat and potato.

Royoc took a calming breath before he looked at the map. A ritual he did every time before a meeting Cullen noticed. Also, as usual, Royoc asked for Cullen's reports first, then Liliana's, then Josephine's.

Cullen spoke of the bridgework and patrolling areas.

Liliana detailed the insubordination of some Nobles in Orlais.

Josephine was last. "We have received eight invitations to the Winter Palace Gala to take place in two months. We know that Corypheus is planning to take out the court of Orlais to sew chaos. With what you saw in the future, the question becomes where is the enemy hiding in the Court?" She looked up and smiled. "Grand Duchess Florian will be hosting. Absolutely everyone will be there. During the festivities," Josephine looked to Cullen and Liliana with a smile. "Empress Celene will be meeting for peace talks with the usurper, Grand Duke Gaspard, and the Ambassador, Briala."

Liliana gave a nod. "The assassin must be hiding in one of these factions."

Cullen gave a look of obvious deduction until Royoc spoke. "The Empresses Personal Guards should be able to protect her, but I'd like to know firsthand. I assume warning her has done little credit?" he smirked at Josephine who returned with a smile.

"We have made the attempt, your Holiness."

"It seems," Liliana said in a lower tone, "our messages never reached her. Someone intercepted them." Cullen noticed her sway slightly as she spoke, the softness in her voice.

Cullen lifted his head. "It's best we don't leave this to chance. If Orlais falls to Corypheus, no land is safe."

Royoc made a passively annoyed face at the comment but nodded. "What do we know of the Empress? Aside from her rule and how she ascended." He looked to Josephine.

The Antivan lifted her pen as she spoke. A smile curling on her lips. "The Empress is a renowned diplomat and reformer. She works tirelessly to secure peace for the Empire. But many Orlaisens view peace as compliancy. She has yet to name an heir leaving the empire in doubt if anything should happen to her. Next in line is her cousin Gaspard, who has made few friends in the Council of Heralds." Cullen rolled his shoulders to reframe from rolling his eyes.

Liliana took a breath and turned to her friend. "Celene is surrounded at all times by countless guards, courtiers, servants, and vassals. What better place to hide than in the Empress's own household."

Royoc chuckled at the thought. "Gaspard is still in line, I see?"

Cullen removed a hand from his pommel to speak. "His title indicates that he was a prince before Celene took the throne." Royoc arched another annoyed brow as Cullen explained the titles he already knew. "When Celene won over the council of heralds, she outmaneuvered Gaspard for the throne. He became a General of the Imperial army. Well-loved by his troops." He noticed movement to see Uthreida look at him with a disgusted pull of her lips and roll of her eyes and head. She shook it but kept her thoughts to herself. "He's also a Chevalier. Most of their numbers sided with him with he turned on the Empress."

Royoc shook his head. "Of course they did."

Cullen nodded in agreement. "Empress Celene has improved relations with Fereldan and Navarra. The Chevalier see her as antimilitary. They believe that Gaspard could lead the Empire back to the glory of Drakons expansion years." The disgusted tone made apparent as Gaspard wanted to retake Fereldan.

Royoc seemed to notice and his eyes turned to Liliana. "And who is this Briala? I've heard little to nothing of her. A new player could prove to either be useful or dangerous."

Liliana gave a slight smirk as she held her hands behind her. "She is the Ambassador, but in name only. She has organized the elves of Halmarshal into an underground enemy. The Empress invited her to the peace talks in a bid to gain the elves alliance in the war." Cullen arched a brow. If the intent was to end the war, why does she want an alliance for the war? "Scandal enough" Royoc nodded with her. "There is a rumor that Briala is a jilted lover of Celene's." Royoc looked up to meet her with an interesting head tilt. "A personal grudge and a network of saboteurs at her command? A promising lead."

Royoc popped his knuckles for a moment in thought. "How well known is the rumor that Briala was Celene's lover?" Cullen caught the tone influx, but couldn't place why.

Liliana waved a simple hand. "Just a rumor whispered among the Palace servants a few years ago. If it's true and were to get out, the Empress and an elf, the scandal could destroy Celene's court." Liliana gave a mild laugh for her and Cullen realized which she was vying to lead. And realized who he vied for as well. "If the rumor is a lie, Briala could use it to blackmail the Empress. She has some connections to the throne."

Royoc looked at the three of them, he furrowed his brows for a moment with a heavy sigh.

Cullen held his blade tighter. "With the armies entrenched, we cannot openly move our men to the palace."

Liliana turned to him. "My agents will ensure your soldiers get inside. But it must be a few at a time to avoid attention." She said slowly as if to make a point.

He nodded. Knowing the limb they were going out on. "Understood."

Royoc rubbed his neck as he looked over the map. Cullen looked over to notice that Uthreida was wearing annoyance on hers, still eating the last bits of her potato. Royoc turned to her. "What do you suggest?"

She gave an awkward look at him, then Cullen, back to Royoc. She cleared her throat. "That would depend, what are your goals?"

He gave a heavy sigh. "To save the Empire." He gave a playful smirk as Royoc's hand waved over the map and its markers.

She took a step towards the war table. She looked over the map and all the points of interest. Then at the three advisors, and Royoc. She took a deep breath. She flashed a smile to the group. "Forgive me, I'm going to ask" she paused, unsure of how to phrase something. "Questions. You spoke of an Empire, but where is it. What does it encompass?"

Liliana and Josephine gave a polite smile behind their hands. "The Empire of Orlais," Liliana stated softly, "used to encompass all of Nevvarra and Fereldan."

Uthreida arched a brow. "And now?"

Josephine stepped forward. "The lands were returned back to those countries after so many wars."

Uthreida still looked confused. "So it's now a kingdom and not an Empire. But" she looked at Cullen, "they still have the desire to expand again?"

"So it would appear," Cullen stated with a bland tone.

Her eyes looked at the map again in thought. Seeing the pieces they had placed and just realizing what she could use this information for. "And the 'Empress' and Duke are currently at civil war?" Cullen nodded once. "Who's winning?"

Cullen chuckled. "Depends on who you ask."

She made a face like she's heard that line before. "Who is Gaspard's heir?"

"He has yet to name one," Josephine said with a small voice.

Uthreida rolled her eyes with pursed lips of annoyance. "What is with Kings coming into power with no heirs? What's the point?" she gave an annoyed sigh but kept looking at the map in thought. She crossed her arms and looked away in thought. Her eyes going over the stone of the room. Cullen could tell she was sifting through her own memories and actions before suggesting anything. She took a breath and looked at the map again. "It doesn't matter who you back. Both Celene and Gaspard will give you forces, resources, and networks for giving or maintain their throne." She shrugged. "The Civil War is in its infancy. Should you back the rebels, you get the rebel forces plus the loyalists. If you back the Empress, you will lose the rebels and the soldiers they kill in this war. So, you'll only receive half, maybe, if the Empress wins. If she wins the war, you will receive no additional forces, but you'll get her deepest thanks and resources." She looked at him expectantly.

"So, I'd have to help the side of the civil war I choose to let live," Royoc asked with a smirk.

Utherida shot a look at Cullen. "And provide additional forces and resources as well. And then, if they win, will you receive your investment." Cullen lowered his brows, how does she know what the Nobles will do?

Royoc rolled his eyes. "So it's a coin toss."

"Not necessarily." She smirked as she pointed a finger at Denerim. "I've been reading the histories of Ferelden and Orlais. I think you should contact the King. Get his insight."

Royoc knitted his brows as Liliana sighed annoyed. "Why?"

"Your base of operations is in Ferelden. Even if you do close the breach, even if you do defeat Corypheus, if you allow an Orlesian monarchy who wants their empire back, who now has their soldiers in a foothold in Ferelden, you will lose this hold and your title because the King will personally blame you. It doesn't matter what you do, the people will turn on you if that new emperor invades." She smirked but kept her attention on Royoc. "If you get the King's insight and use it, he can only blame himself if things backfire. Contact the King. He may have political or economic insight as to whom he would prefer to see on the throne. If you do as he suggests, you now have backing from Ferelden to continue your Inquisition. If you don't follow his advice, it may be a matter of time before you're run out of both Ferelden and Orlais. Besides," she smirked. "Nobles love to feel like they are a part of the action. Make him feel…invested."

Josephine gave a soft smile. "That may not be the case."

"Actually," Liliana stated with a sigh. All eyes turned to the spymaster. "I spoke to King Alistair about this possible situation. He stated that he hoped Celene would be victorious in the civil war. However, if he was forced to choose, he would not." Her eyes turned to Royoc. "King Alistair cannot be tied, even indirectly, to the actions that may lead to the rise or fall of the next Orlesian emperor. He cannot be biased to the actions the Inquisition makes. However, he did note that if Gaspard won, the Inquisition would not be allowed to move with impunity as we currently are in Fereldan. His men will guard the border to ensure Orlesian soldiers can't gain a foothold in Fereldan even under the banner of the Inquisition."

Cullen lowered his eyes with furrowed brows. "We could lose everything we've gained in Gaspard takes the throne."

Josephine took a breath. "Not only that, we are the Orleisan Inquisition stationed on Fereldan soil. If the King holds true to his word, we could be run out of Skyhold. Assuming he lets us stay until after Corypheus" she mumbled off as she reviewed something on her tablet.

Uthreida smiled at the woman but looked back at Royoc. "If you're concerned about the prestige of the Inquisition, use these to make your decision on who to kill. If you're concerned about the people, I would suggest looking at their political and social viewpoints. Who would stand to protect to defend the people? Aye, it's true, choosing Gaspard, you get a larger military but an arrogant ally. Choosing Celene will grant you ties to the loyalists and increased trade, but you won't be able to control her because she wouldn't have needed your help anyways to keep her throne."

Josephine smiled at the woman. "Celene has proven that she can lead the people."

Cullen scoffed. "And sewed discontent with her standing military."

"But has elevated even the lowest of her economic classes" Liliana chimed in. "Her reforms have allowed freedom where others have not."

Uthreida crossed her arms again, her eyes drawn to the map. "Ensuring the future prosperity of the people is what matters most."

"Defeating Corypheus is the objective." Cullen wrinkled his nose at her.

She took a breath, a look of pity crossed her features as she looked at him. "Don't repeat my mistakes." She said softer but looked away. "Do not blind yourself with the shortsighted objective. This war will not always be here. This decision decides after. When the war is over, when the nobles forget what you have done," she looked over at Royoc with an exhausted look of a veteran, "who will be left to rule? Someone who seeks peace and free will, though I imagine her hands are just as bloodied," she looked at Josephine to indicate Celene, "the warmonger who will use the training from the Inquisition to invade other lands while thanking you, even as the people suffer under his rule," she looked to Cullen for Gaspard, "or a shadow agent that will destroy everything, burn it all to the ground and start a new elven kingdom of her own." She arched a brow at Liliana with the same exhausted expression.

Josephine shook her head. "The people will not forget what the Inquisition has done for them."

Uthreida gave a humorless chuckle. Not at the woman, but at something else. "I'm in the Pale, aye." Cullen registered the tone as one of an impending story. "I was fighting this dragon and had it cornered when it looked to the sky and called in a friend. The ground shook when it landed. Long story short, I once saved a village from two dragons at the same time, and still got arrested for accidentally killing a chicken that wandered into the fight." She made a face at the woman to show her the true darkness of people. "The people don't care if you save their lives, they don't care who won the war. They don't care if you're the damn king. They only care if you mess with their homes and overtax their livelihood." Utherida looked at Royoc with seriousness. "Every single solution before you will breed higher taxes or burned homes. War isn't cheap. Buying off nobles to your side isn't cheap. Salting the land, not cheap."

Leliana sighed. "Briala isn't that foolish."

"If she's as jilted as you say, if she's that petty, with no experience in ruling, no experience in land maintenance, surrounded by elves who have been treated as a half step above slaves for over a thousand years" Uthreida gave a shrug. "If she doesn't have a decent council to hold her back, she'll destroy the land, or they will." Uthreida shook her head. "It doesn't matter how many meetings she heard second hand from the Empress. A new leader, with no experience, no counsel, will do everything she can to keep her lands and people safe. She will have blood lust for all humans, followed by prideful disillusions of safety, then stubborn denial of famine and disease. Her people will defect and then be killed on sight for what they've done. Which, if I had to assume, would be putting humans in the exact same place the mer had been for the last thousand years. Which now brings us to, invasion." She shook her head again. "It's Empress Allessia all over again."

Cullen arched a brow. "You seem to know quite a bit about misguiding nobles." Uthreida flashed a quick grin but kept her eyes on the map.

"You seem to favor Celene." Royoc mimicked her posture.

Uthreida shrugged quickly. "I am trying to establish trade with Fereldan."

"So you're biased?"

"I suppose." She said with a smile. "So, who will you kill?"

Royoc lowered a brow. "Why do I have to kill anyone?"

She gave a knowing look. "If you kill all the wolves, the elk will eat the forest. Having a wolf isn't always so bad. Being a wolf is a requirement." She gave a pause as if his repose was necessary. "If you do nothing, Celene will die, and Gaspard will rule. The choice of kill or not is no longer yours as the assassination contract is already signed. Who lives and who dies, depends on you."

Josephine furrowed her brows. "That's a bit harsh. Honest, though it is. I will pull some older reports to present to you, Inquisitor, for review to see who would be the best candidate for," she shuddered, "the throne."

"You must understand, Inquisitor," Liliana took a step forward, "this one decision could affect the future of the Inquisition. However, there may be a third option, but it will take some time to find."

Cullen arched a brow at the false hope Liliana was trying to give. "This is just ridiculous-"

"Agreed," Uthreida stated quickly shutting him up. "Unless there's a dragon, you have fun." She turned to walk out.

Josephine hit Cullen on his arm. "You haven't told her." She whispered with a hiss.

Cullen held out a hand in question to Josephine. "I told her before she left for the hunt in Lydes."

Uthreida turned to look at him with confusion as her lips were pulled down. Her face dropped and her shoulders slumped. "No." she practically screamed, pointing a finger at him. "No, please, no. Don't, no."

Cullen gave a lopsided grin. "You have also been invited-"

"Don't say it."

"To the Winter Palace-"

"Arrrg."

"As a special guest of her Royal Majesty, Empress Celene."

Cullen watched as she realized why she was invited to the meeting. Uthreida crossed her arms and huffed. Her eyes cut in thought and a smirk ghosted her lips. "Am I going as an envoy of Skyrim, or as part of the Inquisition?"

Josephine ruffled some papers, her eyes frantic over something. "As a 'Special Guest of Skyrim'."

Uthreida's disappointment turned roguish with her smile. "This could be more fun than I thought." She flashed a smirk as she turned to leave.

Cullen noticed Royoc's smirk as he turned back to the map. A darkness crossed the man's eyes as he looked over the map. He looked to Leliana and Josephine with the same smirk. His brow arched in a question that the spymaster nodded with. A small quirk on her lips as well. Cullen lowered a brow, his eyes going to the door Uthreida just exited. That was a test, wasn't it? They were testing her. Why? And why wasn't he informed?

"Thoughts?" Royoc asked quickly.

"A choice." Leliana said with the same calmness to her voice, "but not a threat."

"I disagree," Josephine said, making a note on her tablet. "though points have been made."

Cullen looked between the two women and having no idea what was going on. Royoc looked to him with a patient grin. "It's something to consider." vague as the other two, but still unsure even as he pretended like he knew what was going on. What was this test?

Royoc's eyes went back to Orlais, a hand to his chin in thought. A silent moment filled the room and all Cullen could think was how deep was Uthreida on their bad sides. Royoc looked to Liliana. "Do what you can." She nodded as if understanding the unsaid conversation.

"I do believe that will be all for the night," Royoc said with a smile as he turned to leave. "Oh, Commander." Cullen looked up from his missives to meet his gaze. "The apothecary seems to be out of Elfroot. Can you inform the soldiers in the Hinterlands and Stormscoast to gather more. Thank you."

Really? "Of course."

"Excellent. Jose, what was the name of that book you were telling me about earlier?" Royoc walked with the ambassador as they exited.

Leliana gathered her few reports and started to exit. Cullen took the opportunity to ask. "Leliana," she turned an arched brow. "What was all that about?" her 'hmm' of the question seemed innocent enough but, it's Leliana. "Tonight, what was all this about? It obviously wasn't about Halamshiral."

She politely tittered at him. "This show wasn't for you, Commander."

Cullen took a slow blink. "That answers literally nothing."

"Good," she said coyly and turned to leave again.

Cullen lowered his brows at the map as the doors shut behind her. What game is Royoc playing now?

Xxxxx

He stood above her. His massive plate and sword drawn as he looked down at her. Her ringed brunette hair cling to her temples in sweat as he chased her for hours through the forest. The whimper of cries from the folds of the fabric from her breast as the babe was roused from the stop. She looked at him, green eyes wide in fear and panic as she looked at him.

"Cullen please." She shook her head slowly. "Don't, don't do this again. Please." Her voice breaking and shattering in her plea. "Please, our last boy, please."

Cullen sneered as he looked down at his wife. "For the Maker must cast the darkness aside, so too must we lay our sins at his feet." He clenched his sword tighter in his hand, raising it slightly and pointing the tip to a nearby patch of earth between the two of them.

Samurilla looked at him, then the patch. "Please Cullen"

"Do not join him." He stated darker, the fear creeping into his throat. He knew what was to come.

Cullen felt the need to scream. To tell Samurilla to run. To yell at her to kill him. But his voice was silent as she moved the babe between.

Cullen watched, unable to move, unable to stop what was about to happen as the baby began to cry at the lack of warmth. His son. Watching his breath create a steady smoke from his nose where she was panting. "Please, Mercy," Sam begged. "I've done as you asked, please."

Cullen lifted his sword. Feeling the horns protrude from his own head with no sense of regret as he slammed the sword through.

He sat up in his bed, screaming.

Looking about him, the sound of the wind passing the leaves of the tree in his quarters made him think he was in a forest. He took several deep breaths, going over as many prayers as he could to gather his center. His hands to his head.

Maker.

That dream. That was the reoccurring dream that broke him.

Back in Kinloch, it had been innocent. Him and Sam had escaped the Circle. Started a family. When the circle was taken, it changed into discovering Sam was a blood mage. As time progressed in Kirkwall, Cullen murdered his own family in his dreams. And now-

He clenched his teeth, swallowing back the rage and disgust at himself.

Older, wiser now, he knew the implications of such an idealized fantasy. What it created.

He could still hear Knight Commander Greagoir as Cullen was called into his office. Standing at attention as he lied to Greagoir about not having a crush on the young apprentice. Greagoir's older, knowing look as he stood. Reminding him that such a union would be inappropriate as it would nullify Cullen's vows, sever trust with the mages, and the heart ache that would inevitably follow. Insinuating that since Cullen didn't have a crush, Greagoir taught him a few prayers and techniques to help transform his desire for the Makers love into something productive that Cullen could teach to his brothers because, apparently, Greagoir had the wrong information about who was pinning for whom in his tower.

Cullen felt a smirk curl on his lips at the memory. Even as he forced himself to breathe through the panic and anxiety. He still held a few good memories of the tower. While embarrassed, he understood Greagoir's intent. Though, it did little to prevent the future.

Cullen ran a hand through his hair as he could still hear the baby wail in his dream. He stood, deciding he needed fresh air to clear his mind.

He walked the southern battlements, looking over the mountains, and feeling the pull of the void as he looked over the edge of the mountain fortress. He clenched his jaw to keep it from chattering. That darkness was always present in him. He knows that now. He had to become better than it. Transform it into something more productive for the people. For himself.

When he started to shiver from the cold, he turned, ready to get back to work even in these early hours. If he had to guess, he had maybe three hours of sleep.

A light from the kitchens caught his eye. The door was slightly ajar. He lowered a brow. It was too early for the staff to be up and too late for the door to be open.

He wondered down the stairs and crossed. It smelled like smoke. As he approached, he heard some movement in the kitchen. He opened the door slowly and looked around. His eyes were drawn to the shadows created from the fire in the hearth as he surveyed the room. He shut the door gently behind him. The work table had a bowl of flour and eggs mixed. A small jar of milk sat next to it as the caldron in the fire was starting to steam. Pans were set out to use as well. He moved to check the door between the kitchen and the feeding hall and found it was locked. He looked back at the working table. Cullen reached his hand into the flour sack and grabbed a handful.

He threw it into the darkened corner adjacent to the door.

There was a slight sputter and a cough as the individual waved their now flour covered arms in the air to breathe. Cullen stood taller, a smirk on his face. "Come into the light."

The command wasn't necessary as he could feel the aura as they coughed. The sound of their voice.

As predicted, the flaming red hair pulled back in a single braid and with annoyed ice blue eyes wearing a linen undershirt, maroon breeches, and their twill shawl thrown over the back of a chair. Uthreida held her hands up in surrender as she stepped forward.

Cullen clapped his hands to get the excess flour off and smirked at her. "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing?" She asked, the firelight making her look smaller than usual. Crossing her arms as they looked the other down.

Cullen took a breath, feeling like they had gone back in time. Gone back to the start of their relationship where neither trusted nor spoke to the other. They came this far in the last two months, it had to count for something. He felt connected to someone that wasn't directly under him or over him and to have that, what he started to feel as respect was...

He lowered his brows. He had no idea what the dynamics of this relationship was, but both adored and abhorred her company.

Cullen clenched his jaw but gave a polite smile. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes that her kohl hid throughout the day. "Couldn't sleep?" He offered quietly, keeping his distance like she did for the last few days. Keeping the work table between them. Twice daily check-ins. No conversation, no teasing, just sardonic brow raises and salutes. He enjoyed her distance, but his heart ached for...something.

She took a breath. "Bad memories make for bad sleep. As I'm sure you're aware." He nodded. A thick silence filled the air and she adverted her eyes from him. "May I at least finish before you shoo me out?"

Cullen looked at her half finished work and nodded slowly to allow her this. He watched silently as she mixed in the milk to the bowl and added honey to it. He watched as she floured the table and started to knead the dough before cutting it into fourths and filling it in the bunt pans. Hating himself that this chasm between them is so thick and gapping when he was given a taste of what her friendship would be like. Of what her trust and respect smelled like. He sat down as she placed a rag over the bowl and sat in the chair in the opposite corner of him. "It needs to rest."

She didn't speak, and he wanted to fill the silence. He wanted to ask how the last few days have been since she came back. He wanted to ask what she was reading about now. He wanted to know what Hawke told her.

She stood and crossed the room. Using the water from last night to start washing the dishes she just used to keep the kitchen clean.

Cullen stood, rolling up his sleeves of his shirt and stood next to her to help. She looked at him, soap bar in one hand and brush in the other. Looking at him as if questioning why he was in her personal space. Her eyes, there was no warmth. She judged him still. She hated him still.

He adverted his eyes, raising his hands in surrender as he retired back to his chair. Her back was to him as she worked to clean her mess. He looked her over and wondered why his heart was sinking in his chest. Why his stomach dropped with it. What did he care what she thought? She's an assassin. A thief. A dragon slayer who will leave the Inquisition the second Corypheus's dragon is slain. She had no commitment. No care of the land save her own. She's a walking war machine that is barely caged and controlled. And the moment when he thought he had a chance-

He wanted to blame Hawke. But knew the blame was his alone. He failed her. Before he even knew her. He failed his family. Which is why he didn't write. He failed so many who believed in him.

And now, she looked at him as beneath her, once again.

She turned away from her work and he adverted his eyes. She checked, whatever she was making, and removed the towel. She placed it in the cauldron carefully and closed the lid on it. She sat back down in her chair, her twill shawl placed on her lap.

She had some gall. Judging him when she assassinated an emperor. She had no heart. No conscious. No-

He sighed to himself. Yesterday, the tavern brawl. He was sure her, Hawke, and Bull had something to do with it. But she got the soft targets to safety where he ended it. She kept Cabot and his staff safe. She punched a Soldier in the brawl who hit Cullen, and he beat down a brawler that swung at her.

He clenched his jaw. Uthreida was his antithesis in a way. She was doing where he was...passing it off to others in Kirkwall. Passing his beliefs off and not taking responsibility for his actions when she was thrust into doing just that.

Her silence was becoming deafening. He wanted to go back. He wanted to pretend like this wasn't a thing. He wanted her flirtations and bawdy laugh. Was it possible to go back? He held a hand to his temple as he slowly looked over at her.

She met his gaze with an annoyed look. "Back to what?"

Cullen's wide eyes looked away. Was that out loud? "Beg your pardon?"

Her annoyance didn't abate as she looked at the cauldron patiently. Her legs crossing at the knee and crossed arms over her chest. Her body language and posture screamed defensive. She didn't want to speak to him, be alone in the same room as him. He was interrupting her.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes going to the fire in the hearth. This is a waste of time. He stood, grabbing the chair and sat down next her. Matching her posture. Refusing to be insecure or shamed for what he did from her as he worked through it himself. "Is there a problem?"

She looked at him with contempt. "Ha?"

"Do we," he stated slowly, "have a problem?"

She arched a brow. "About what?"

He lifted his hand to indicate the wash station that she looked down at him at across the room. While she followed his hand, she wasn't following his logic. "You've barely spoken to me for the last three days. If you have an issue about my time in Kirkwall, say it."

She arched a brow at him and pursed her lips. She rolled her shoulders before speaking. "Honestly, I have questions about Kirkwall so I've been speaking to Hawke and Varric who filled me in. I have questions, Cullen. But I haven't brought them forward because I started my moonsblotten two days ago. So I haven't been in a very conversational mood for the last two days because it feels like my sheep stomach is trying to rip me apart from the inside." She stated with a heat as she pointed to her lower stomach. Cullen immediately understood what she was going on about. Having sat in on several 'puberty' classes at the circles. "The reason I rudely escorted you from my personal space was because," she uncrossed her legs sitting as wide as he did "I smell like a dead skeever that was left to rot in the sun. So, aye, it's a wee bit embarrassing." Cullen inhaled naturally and understood what she was talking about and empathized. She crossed her legs again, turning her knees away from him. "Walking around afraid I was going to bleed all over the stones just to find some damn rags and cleaning because I soaked my bed. And now I'm sitting here, stressed out, wanting a comfort sweet food from my home, while my husband, who is so insecure, whines that I'm not giving him enough attention" she moved her hand in a manner that would show her 'stroking his ego', "or paying enough complements. Even though I am disgusted with your history, I know damn well that if I voice any concern other than socially acceptable behavior, any future concerns that I make will be based on the fact that I can bleed." She met his gaze and must have a look of something that caused her to scoff. "Oh, I'm sorry, is this conversation disgusting to you? Because it's disgusting to me too." She crossed her arms tighter to herself. "Grow up. Not everything is about you."

Cullen bit back a sheepish smile. Allowing everything she just said to flow over and through him. He tried to contain the laugh in his chest, but found he couldn't. He tried to stifle the laugh by covering his mouth. "I love the way we communicate." He looked over to see Uthreida smiling unabashed at her hands in her lap. She met his eyes and rolled her own either in feigned annoyance or agreement. "You could've just said something." She looked at him confused until he waved a vague hand at her lap.

She waived dismissive at him. "It's not spoken of where I'm from. It's just understood."

Cullen arched a brow. "A warning would be more effective. I could've requested Nan to make-what are you making?"

"Sweet rolls."

Cullen smiled. "What, you don't like our sweet bread? Cookies?"

"Cookies are amazing." Her wide smile made whatever anxiety had disappeared. "And the red cake. But no," she sighed. "It's the texture of the-" she sighed again and pouted. "I'm home sick, alright. I miss sweet rolls. I miss tree nut treats, I miss elder cheese. I miss mead, proper mead. I miss Horker steak. I miss my name being said properly." She shook her head as she looked at the kitchen. "Skyhold has the mountain air, and the bleehing of goats, and the smell of fire and pine. But, there's something missing and I can't put my finger on it."

Cullen curled a brow in understanding at her. It took him a while to adjust to Kirkwalls Brown Round stew when all he wanted was Fereldan Lamb and vegetable. He could sympathize with her heartache. He put a hand to her back and rubbed it for her.

She rolled her shoulder to gently push him off. Cullen accepted her dismissal, but allowed it to be just that. "What can I do?" He offered.

She shrugged. "Nothing. There's nothing you can do." She gave a hard breath as she looked at the fire.

"I can think of something." She looked at him with a look of displeasure at his smug tone. "How is your name supposed to be pronounced?"

There was a small blushing one-sided smile as she considered him. She scooted her chair to the table and used the flour on the table top to write her name. He saw a series of vertical lines, half-lines, triangles. "Ut-Tread-Da." She looked at him and smiled. "There is a soft roll in the name."

He tried it and she showed him the soft roll. Cullen loudly and mockingly purred his tongue against the roof of his mouth causing her to laugh quietly. "Ut-Tread-Da." She said it faster and he mimicked. Earning a softer smile from the woman.

His eyes turned to the table with her writing in it. "That's your name?"

She gave a nod. "According to the runes, It basically means 'ancestral powers of protection for the continuous relationship between intuition and ancestral wisdom."" She gave a pained look at him with a smile.

"Quite the mouth full." He said with a smile.

She matched it. "You think so?" She moved and wrote a triangle, and 'N' like in her name, a backwards 7, the letter M, and a T. "Cullen."

He shook his head and smiled, trying not to laugh. "Not even close."

She arched a brow in mild annoyance. "To my people, your name means 'powerful fire and necessary water." He gave a skeptical look. "The two opposing forces make sense." She looked at him and smirked. "When you're with your men, you have this presence, this force. But what they don't see behind doors is how hard you try to keep life." She smirked. "But the naulith also means necessity or friction, or hardship. The hard sea. Basically, you're hard headed." He playfully frowned as she smiled. "A burning passion but stubborn sums you up pretty well."

He smiled looking at the symbols that represented his name, but wasn't his. He looked down at her and sighed. "I'm sorry I overreacted."

She made a look of mocked scandal at him that he only smirked at. Not taking the bait, she met his smile. "I'm sorry I ranted."

Cullen took a deep breath and laughed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Why is it easier for us to get angry than just talk?"

She gave a shrug, looking into the fire. "I mean, you resort to anger and hate for people you have no respect for, aye."

Cullen leaned back in his chair, openly looking down at her at her level. "I disagree, but continue." She canted her head towards him with a smile, but waiting to see what his thoughts were. "The opposite of love isn't hate, its indifference. You still feel something even in hate."

She looked away and smirked. "So, we lash out because we feel something akin to love?" She gave a dramatic dropped jaw at him barely holding back a smile. Her excited lewd expression caused him to smile.

"Stop putting words in my mouth."

Uthreida gave a vicious smile at him. She looked into the fire and sheepishly shrugged. "I will admit," she said slowly, and Cullen noticed her scar grew a deeper color as she rubbed her palms together, "there is a...certain, level of...care." She cleared her throat and smiled. "As my husband. But-" she stated quickly as if in hopes to pull the emotional knife from his chest of her confession. "I have also learned it's not entirely altruistic, and that, I should, Uh, probably work on that."

Cullen adverted his gaze, keeping his eyes on the fire even as he tried not to smile. "You do care." He could see her get offended and crossed her arms again as she watched the fire next to him. He chuckled to himself but shifted uncomfortably. "I too have" he stopped himself and scratched under his chin from the inching of the beard. "I apparently have a care of your opinion of me."

"Well, I could've told you that." She laughed when she met his look. "We have a tendency to hide behind anger because it's easier to admit that we're," she paused, making a pained sound even as she smirked at the cauldron.

"Vulnerable," Cullen said quietly.

"That's a bit of a strong word. How about, Uh, responsible. Accountable. Let's go with that." Cullen could smell whatever she was baking in the silence. The smell of flour and spices were heating up. "Can I ask?"

He arched a brow, uncertain of her thoughts.

"I know Kirkwall is raw, but" she took a deep breath, and Cullen felt his lungs tighten. "I want to understand. I want" he saw her jaw tighten, her brows furrowing in pain as she looked away from him. "If I'm accountable, if we're responsible" she ran and hand through her hair as she looked into the fire her look darkening. She closed her eyes, swallowing back whatever she was thinking and not looking at him. Cullen noticed her clenched hands under her arms. He grit his teeth. He could imagine how she felt. At least he knew the demons he struggled with. She didn't have a clue, but he wasn't ready to talk.

He gently touched her hand. She jerked at the contact and looked at him. But he turned away from her. His fingers brushing hers letting her know he was there, physically. Begging she would understand without words needing to be spoken. If needed. Her crossed arms reached for his crossed arms. She allowed a few of his fingers to lace with hers. His heart leapt into his throat at her contact that she allowed. And for the first time in a long time, felt the tendrils of healing his soul.

She kept her eyes adverted like he did. Only to chuckle. "We can make it a drinking game." She said to her chest. A smile ripping across her face. "I'm a monster because-"she shook her head.

Cullen smiled at the idea. "Never have I ever, assassinated an emperor." Her eyes went wide as she looked at him. Her smile dropped and she pulled her hand away quickly. The panic of his knowing that secret showed on her face. Cullen dropped his smile. He remembered she shared this while drunk and no memory of the night. He reached for her hand again and she pulled away.

She looked away as if she was reflecting in silence. "I'm a monster," she said quietly, "because I assassinated my emperor and weakened my continent."

Cullen clenched his jaw, knowing this game would lead to more pain but possibly, maybe, highly doubtful, healing. "I'm a monster because I turned a blind eye to the suffering of my charges. My men's wrongdoings. And my commander."

She took a deep breath, staring deeply into the fire. The logs cracked in the silence. "Let's not." She said quickly, wrapping her pinky with his and relaxed in her chair. She sighed again. "I want to." She said softly. Her eyes in the fire. "I want to stand by you. I want to forgive but" her brows lowered again as she silenced herself by biting her lips. "What right do I have? How can I expect you to forgive me for Whiterun, Markarth, even Miraak." She swallowed hard and he noticed her fingers tightened against his. He returned the squeeze to let her know he was there.

He licked his lips, looking into the same fire. He dared to look at her as she looked as conflicted as he felt. "You don't have to speak." He said softly, letting his thumb run along her knuckles. "When you're ready." He dared a look to see the muscle move along her jaw several times as she grit her teeth.

"It's a kindness." She said softly. "But it creates the same problem." She uncrossed her arms and held his hand openly now. Her tattooed hands taking his and resting across his thigh. The chills ran through his body at her touch with the slight sickness to his stomach. "To become blinded to your past as you become blinded to mine. Both of us remaining silent, hoping the other never learns of it." she shook her head. "I can't stand beside you if" she deflated, "nor can you." She took a shaking breath. "I want to know your reasonings, but," she sighed again, words failing her as she tried to remain strong. "Kyne's breath, why is this so hard?" She leaned into his shoulder as if to force a connection. Not noticing his rapidly beating heart or shallow breaths. It felt like his arm wasn't getting enough blood as he tried not to look at her. Scared she'll see the same horns he had in his dream.

He lifted his arm to wrap around her shoulder to bring her closer and, hopefully, recirculate his arm. "Maybe," he stated softly, clenching his jaw to make sure his voice was strong as he wanted to appear. "Do you remember the dragon in the Mire?" She shifted awkwardly at his change in conversation, giving an equally amused expression. "You didn't rush in. You watched it for a bit before attacking. Maybe this is hard for both of us because we see the same thing. Someone we don't know how to kill." She snorted at the comment and he shot her a good-natured look. "Fine. The question is, how do we defend the other's atrocious past behavior to maintain dignity and honor without revealing our own mistakes in the hope that the other won't use our shame as ammunition in the future? Does that about sum it up?"

She nodded slowly with a frown of approval. "Aye." She leaned her head back into the pocket of his shoulder. "So how do we do that?"

He exhaled, puffing his cheeks in the process. "I have no idea. This is a level of hell I've never experienced before."

They sat in silence, waiting for the rolls to bake. His heart hammered again as her thumb rubbed against his open palm in thought. His body becoming acutely aware of his surroundings. The hardness of the chair, the breeze that came in through the open door, the smell of her thistle and holly soap in her hair. The warmth of her body resting against him and the ridges of the pads of her fingers against his hand. He sat absolutely still, forcing his breathing to appear natural while ignoring the dark pool in his gut. She shifted to get more comfortable and he resisted the urge to run. Her elbow resting on his hip as she watched the fire.

She chuckled again. "Maybe we should make it a drinking game."

"You want to play 'never have I ever'?" He asked with a smile. "That's dangerous."

"How do you play?" He could hear the smile in her tone, ignoring the feel of her thumb passing the pads of his palm.

"For example, never have I ever been arrested. If you have, you drink." She lifted her free hand in 'cheers'. "Between us, it might be best to play an innocent game."

She chuckled. "How innocent is innocent?"

He felt her bob with his chuckle. "Knowing you," he arched a brow, remembering her vulgarity from a few days ago. "Less sex and more of a personal quandary."

"You're just saying that because you're a prude."

He smiled at the comment, pulling her closer to his chest. "I say that because I have proprieties and don't get off on low brow humor."

"Oh, aye, you just blush and smile like an adolescent who just discovered the fairer sex."

"A tactic you are quick to use to your advantage."

She gave a shrug, not denying it. "You're an easy target. I'd like to say I'm trying to help you build a resistance to the poison, but" she looked up at him with a wide grin, "it's just fun to watch you squirm." He watched her for a moment but she tucked herself back into him. "Never have I ever spent more than twenty minutes praying."

Cullen smiled with a shake of his head. Forced to raise a hand to admit. "Never have I ever slain a dragon."

"That one's too easy. Do a different one."

"Like the prayer wasn't."

"I don't know what you do."

He sighed, looking into the fire. "Never have I ever, I don't know, killed a giant."

"If we're going to use this as a kill count, maybe it's best we don't have alcohol." She lifted a hand. "Never have I ever, gods, what haven't I done." She gave a sigh. "Uh, never have I ever rode a gwarmon."

He looked at her confused. "I don't know what that is."

She sighed heavily as if remembering they are from different cultures. "I have never seen a sky whale."

He kept his look. "Is that a euphuism?"

She rolled her hands in thought. "Depends on who you talk to." She rolled her neck. "Swam nude. In the sea." She added with a smile.

"Nor have I" he stated slowly. "Never have I ever owned a pet. Personally." She gave a quick chuckle but raised a hand. "What do you have?"

"It's more like he has me." She chuffed. "Barbas, the dog, sort of just, hangs out at me house."

He smirked. "You named your dog, Barbas."

She met his smile with a knowing look. But shrugged. "He seems to like it. He ah, he makes for interesting conversation."

"The dog." He clarified with a smile.

"Aye." He held up a hand as if he wasn't going to press it further. or her sanity "Never have I ever betted my armor in a game."

Cullen looked at her like she was trying to see how unintelligent he was. "Never have I ever been kicked out of a tavern."

Her look dropped to a teased pout. "Considering you know me, that's mean. Never have I ever kissed a woman." Cullen rolled his eyes and lifted a hand. She turned immediately with an expression of delighted surprise. "Cullen Storm-Blade." She said as if mockingly disappointed in him.

He arched a brow and smiled with cunning. "I had a mother once."

"I" she paused and looked disappointed. "I know your lying, but I guess with that logic, I'll drink too." She lifted a hand and went back to resting her head on his shoulder.

"Never have I ever kissed a male lover." He stated, making sure the detail was added specifically for her.

She grunted and raised a hand. "Never have I ever licked a frozen pole."

Cullen kept his hand down but raised a brow. She humbled. How much credit was she giving? "Never have I ever eaten a bug on accident."

She tilted her head in thought. "Accident or on purpose?"

He made a disgusted face. "Either." She lifted a hand. "Eww."

"Hey, butterflies and bees are used in alchemy potions. I don't want to hear it. Never have I ever...eaten sweets for, oh, I can't use that. Lied, nope. Found, eh. Drank, arg. This games hard. Against you anyways. Uh. Never have I ever paid for sex."

He shot her annoyed look that she curled up tighter against his chest with a pained expression, knowing she broke the rules. Cullen kept his hand down. Technically, He didn't pay for it. She grunted at the response. "Never have I ever sucked a cock."

Her eyes grew wide at the statement and smiled. She raised a hand. "I like where your minds going." He looked at her in genuine surprise. Was that an invitation or-

She pushed herself off of him to sever the contact. "What I mean is" she clarified with both hands to show the narrow path of her mind and a blushing smile, "Welcome to my level. So kind of you to dismount from your high horse."

He shot her a skeptical look. "Never have I ever stolen a horse."

She gave a sigh and raised a hand. "Never have I evaded," she chuckled and blew her cheeks out at a memory. "I can either be really mean and we both end the night punching each other, or I can quit. I get it. You're...mostly...clean. Whereas, if you go down the laws, I'm sure I've done it once."

Cullen leaned back and looked her over. She was right. He needed to change the rules. "Never, in the last thirty days, have I gone a day without prayer."

She looked him over, her eyes seeming to soften at the change. She nodded but didn't lift a hand. "In the last thirty days, I've been reminded of my sins every day."

He raised a few fingers slowly. "I've felt remorse and contempt for my past and have tried to heal and learn from it."

She nodded slowly. "I've tried to make different choices than my past."

He gave his own nod at her. She curled down back into him, laying her head on his shoulder again. Cullen could feel the claws of the desire demon scratch at the places she touched. He felt their fingers start to rub against the cooler parts of his body and fill his stomach with recoils. The nails racked against his skin and he swore he could smell blood.

He jumped quickly and pulled his chair away from her. Disgusted at his display and knowing the confused look on her face. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and heard Sam scream like she did in his dream. He smelled the acrid smell of bending the vail and forced himself to breathe through his nose to stop the panic attack that was starting. He breathed and smelled the smoke.

Like Kirkwall.

He looked at the stones, the carrots and garlic that hung above the hearth. The smell of cinnamon and nutmeg filling the air. Focus on that. These were never present in his nightmares. Focus on the present.

He gathered his center and felt a new wave of embarrassment as Uthreida looked at him with offended confusion. Her brow curled slightly in pain. "Is it because I'm a mage, or because I'm a pagan?"

Cullen clenched his jaw, looking at his feet again. He took a deep breath and focused on his internal flame and not vomiting from the fear. "I don't like being touched."

Silence filled the room and he felt her aura of annoyance turn calmer. He dared a look to see her averted gaze change into retrospection and understanding. "My apologies." He gave a solemn nod, focusing again on- "Let me get this right, if you initiate, it's fine, but when I do it," she waved a vague hand at his distance.

"Could we not?" He took a deep breath, calming his heart and looking into the fire. "Look this" he ran a hand through his hair, uncertain of what he wanted to say. But knew he had to say something. "This" he waved a hand between them and she looked like she empathized with his social ineptitude. "This is new and" he cleared his throat, feigning a smile for her comfort. She scratched her ear, looking away from him with a smile that he knew she was laughing at him. He took a deep breath to fight the tightness of his chest. "Look,"

"It's okay." She waved a hand, a smile crossing her features as her eyes seemed more humored. "There is a level," she said, looking to the ceiling in thought, "of kinsmenship" she met his eyes as she spoke and looked away smirking, "that I apparently read too deep into."

He looked confused for a moment. "Kinsmenship?"

"Aye, as a shield brother." Cullen tilted his head slightly to show physical confusion. "What do you think our oath was?"

"Suicide pact?" he said with a shrug.

She threw her head back in a laugh. "You're an idiot." Cullen frowned at her. "No, I-" she sighed again in annoyance. "I can see why you think that. And you're half right. But, the other half, is the recognition of respect of the other warrior. Would it be an honor to die at your blade? Aye. Would I lift my shield to protect you?" she paused in thought. "Aye. Will I sing your praises? I guess."

Cullen realized he had a look of confusion on his face as she spoke. "No, I" he smiled to his feet. "It's there."

"But it shouldn't." She said softly, her hand going to her necklace again. Her lover's necklace. She still grieved. She felt guilty for trying again and he rebuffed her. Whatever subconscious thought he had of her being healed with Blackwall was apparently wrong. Whatever she saw in him, whatever she saw in Cullen, was still too soon for her. As it was apparently for him as well. His scars ached as did his heart. She needed healing and Cullen couldn't provide it. Not like he was. Not who he was.

She let the silence fill the area as neither looked at the other. He heard his heart hammer and had no idea why.

She cleared her throat and stood. She walked to the cauldron and gently removed the lid with a rag. She pulled a pan with a set of tongs as she placed it on the work table. Cullen watched as she used a knife to pierce it to see if it was done. She smiled and retrieved the other three pans and placed them on the table.

He sat silent and let her work. His eyes taking in her hands and throat, then the pans. She's lonely here, isn't she? A blade started to pierce his chest as he watched her work. She was spurned by Blackwall that she had only known for a month. A relationship that ended before it began because she saw too much of Cullen in him. If she hates Cullen so much why does she touch him so openly? At the very least, allow his comfort.

Or is he reflecting his own emotions into her? Why does he want to comfort her? Aren't they enemies? Sworn deaths.

He looked at the cakes she had made as she ran a knife around the rim to release them from the molds. Why does she allow his touch if not to use him for some ulterior motive? What is her motive?

He wanted to believe she was kind and just, but loud and brazen. But how well does he really know her? How well will he allow her to know him? If she was as evil as he believes she once was, and he to what he could only assume she thought, was this really a good idea to get closer?

His mind held the image of trying to rub two jagged pieces of glass in his hands and forcing it to fit as his hands grew bloodied at the effort.

He lowered his eyes. This really was a horrible idea. Getting close to her. Trying to even care what she thought or felt or...care.

But she was his wife. He was her husband. They should try, right?

He clenched his jaw. Did it matter? She will dominate and control Thedas the moment she could. She walked the razor's edge of possession and divination. She was wild, uncontrollable, and powerful. Her shouts never touched the Fade and he had no idea how to defend against it aside from getting close to choking her. And he would have to get close to do that.

But they kept each other at a distance. Emotionally, mentally, and physically. If he had any hope of stopping her, he'd have to get close, wouldn't he?

But how close can he get to the fire without burning himself? Without blooding his hands in the process?

He fought the fear in his heart as she released the last cake from the pan, a smile of satisfaction on her face as she looked at the plate of cakes.

If she's lonely, -

If he's projecting-

Why is she so damn strong and he so weak? Why can't he find a single weakness that he could use to his advantage like she could all the time against him? "Why?"

"Because it tastes good." She looked at him and smiled from her heart. "You'll see" she waved a dismissive hand as she used a towel to fan the cakes.

He stood slowly and approached the table from the opposite side. "Uthreida," he stated softly, she arched a brow at her name but kept her eyes on the cakes. "I know you feel like you don't need anyone, but you are my wife. I will care for you if you allow me. But if you don't tell me what's going on, I can't help."

"I don't need your help." She stated quickly. Too quick. Like she's had to say it all her life. Or she was referring to the cakes.

Cullen watched her closely. He reached across the table for a free hand so she would look at him. She tried to pull her hand away gently, but looked at him in confusion. "Utha." He clenched his jaw, realizing he was being too informal with her. "No one can do everything on their own. Let me help."

She tilted her head and looked at the cakes between them quickly before looking at him with an arched brow. "Do you have any skyrtr?"

Cullen lowered his brows, realizing she was talking of the cakes only. Distracting him. Cullen would've been impressed if he wasn't annoyed. "Right." He crossed his arms while watching the fire. "Why are you like this?" He accused quickly. "I'm trying to open here, and you're just so damn defiant against everything and everyone."

Her eyes lowered slowly in thought, in regret. She took a breath and looked into the fire again. "Fine. I'll let you know when my next urge to bake is."

"It's not just that, Uthreida." She looked at him with a brow. "I've seen you walk around injured after the rings and not seek medical attention from the mages. I've seen you go without food and not complain. I heard you stood up to Royoc just because you could. You were in my office, speaking of your family, and refused to cry. If you're so strong, why are you so afraid to be seen as weak? Human?"

His question made her turned her eyes back to the cakes in a moment. All emotion drained from her face as she stood straighter. "These are about done. I'll clean and lock up behind me. Thank you for stopping by, Commander." Her tone was superior to him.

He pulled his hand away from her and rested his upper body on his hands against the table. "What are you so afraid of? And why won't you let me see it?"

She glared at him with a heated look. "Is that what you want? To use my weaknesses against me when I get too close? When my guard is dropped. To use my own poison against me?"

He met her dark look with his own, tucking his chin as he looked down at her. "I'm not you." He stated darkly, knowing she was going to use his shame, his failure, and his addiction against him. He swallowed back the apology in his throat.

She arched a brow at him, her chin jutting at his comment. "Maybe I should become the monster you think I am. Stop fighting and just embrace it. Have you at my side. Leading." She mimicked his posture and leaned in. "We'll take the Inquisition," she whispered, drawing him in and his heart seized, "We'll take Fereldan first. March to Denerim to protect his majesty with Liliana's spies and daggers. Next, the Tyern, then the Arls," her hand inched across the table, her fingers delicately touched his knuckles. Her eyes darkening in lust for something he couldn't place. "We'll cross the mountains, siege Val Royeaux while I gather the other two armies. We'll move north." Her hand moved to cover his and the chills of promise that once filled him were replaced with the shiver of fear.

He took her hand and removed it from him. "What are you doing?"

She smiled, her nose crinkling slightly. "Taking what's mine." He pulled back slightly. "What's the matter, husband? Will you not help me achieve this?"

"No." He said softly, shaking his head.

"Good." She said quickly, removing any emotion and posture she had before. Reverting to her closed up form before him.

Cullen watched in silence as she poked a cake to get the heat. He lowered his brows. "Is that your plan? To make puppet kings?"

She considered it as she wiped her hands with a towel. "No. Seems impractical." She stated whimsically. "No, the best method would be to control your Divine. She controls all but two nations. If I can control her, I control Thedas." She looked at him with innocent eyes and smiled. "Theoretically, of course, Cullen." She crossed her arms and canted a hip at him. "I suppose it's a good thing you have sworn to kill me after Corypheus." He kept his look of suspicious contempt. She sighed rolling her eyes "Show me your weakness" she said mocking him "Makers breath, what was that?" She gave an open-handed gesture to showcase her aggravation at her husband. She shifted but lowered her voice. "Have you ever seen a weakened dragon, Commander?" He shook his head slowly. "What would happen if you did?"

He looked away in thought. People would clamor, a rallying cry to put it down and claim the victory for killing a dragon of legend. Every warrior would gather to strip off hide and bone. The people becoming scavengers of the immense creature that could've killed them in a moment. He met her eyes, her hardened expression showing that she too knew the outcome. He wondered how many have tried. The advice from Rylen came back to him. Hens been tested and been successful. He searched her eyes, looking for understanding. "You want me to kill you to prevent you from becoming a monster of your own making. Or, prevent your dishonor when you die."

She smirked. "If you can" she smiled with a canted head revealing her throat. "Come," she held a cake for him to try. "I believe they are ready. I'm missing skyrtr for the icing, but it'll have to do." She held one up to him as if to toast and took a bite. He watched a smile spread across her face as she licked her fingers and took another large bite. Her happiness filling his heart.

This is the feared dragon slayer? The one who can control armies? Control him? Back him into a corner of not revealing her secrets of Theodisian conquest less they should whisper he's seeing blood mages. Her? His wife.

He smirked as he took a bite. It was thick, dry, and hardy. Worthy of any Fereldan inn. The honey did sweeten the bread and he tasted cinnamon and nutmeg. He swallowed it back and saw her reaching for a second roll. He smiled and took a second bite. His eyes going to her hands for a second.

He slowed his chewing as he thought. How much power does she really have? If she's dragon born and thinks she is a dragon, and she claims one of her gods was a dragon born, is she a living god? If that's the case, how powerful is she? Is she subverting her powers? And if so, why?

He looked at her as her cheeks puffed out with the roll, smiling. But all he could feel was the cold knife in his back. She's appearing small to undermine the nations of Thedas so when she does attack, it's a decimation. An exaggerated underestimation of her prowess. He slowly placed his roll on the plate. If she's a god, if she's a living God, Maker, how is he supposed to kill her? "How powerful are you?" He whispered absently. Her innocents of sneaking into the larder to steal some food turned dark as she looked at him. Her disappointment ringing louder than before. "I need to know how I'm supposed to put you down."

She licked her lips, watching him from across the table. "Enough."

Cullen searched her eyes for answers and Blackwall came to mind. Telling him she was ready to settle down and start a family of her own. "Do you even want to be that monster? To be the dragon? To take Thedas?"

She shook her head softly. "No. The true strength of any tongue is their restraint. Less they become corrupted by their own power." She flashed a quick smirk. "And we both know what happens when a creature becomes corrupted."

He looked at his hands. She had a choice. She could become a god through bloodshed, or take what she has and walk away. How many other warlords from history had the same choice? How many were ruthlessly murdered and betrayed by their own men when they rose too high? And now Corypheus, claiming himself a god and the Inquisition stood to put him down.

But she had a choice. So did he. He had to choose to die at her blade at the beginning of her campaign or draw her away from the fight. Send her home before she became this monster.

He wondered how he could use her weakness against her. He found his appetite leave as he looked her over. His eyes dropping to the table. He was exactly what she thought he was. He needed a weakness, he needed to even the score. If he was right, he could silence her by taking her throat, but he needed to be close. How close was he willing to get?

"Are you going to eat that?"

He looked at the half eatern roll in his hands then passed it to her. He could poison her. He looked away. The next time she felt homesick he could- He took a breath. Depression and disappointment swept through him as he watched her eat. "If you want, you can give Nan the recipe and she can make it for you next time-"

"It's no big deal." She said around the roll. "The recipe isn't that hard. I can manage."

She was an assassin. She knows how this game works. Cullen bit his lips. He had no idea how to approach this. Give him an open field and three lines but this one-on-one psychology. He would have to defame her. As his wife, he would defame himself in the process. How could he destroy her without destroying himself? In what area could their limitations allow? And was death truly the only option as Cole didn't seem to think so.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Cullen blinked and realized that he was indeed staring at her. She gave a slow smile. "Do I need to lock the door?" Between her heavy eyes and her tongue rolling on the question made his stomach clench at the opportunity. His eyes dropped to the table and he realized what she was doing. She flirts, not to console, but to make him lose track. To throw him. She was weakening his armor and he didn't even realize it. He smirked at the woman, leaning forward on the table to get closer.

"If you think it's best." He stated, not willing to lose this fight. This game with her. Even as the heat rose upon his neck.

She gave a smile that slowly grew into a grin, tilting her head to reveal her neck to him. Her look of intrigue at his play made her take a step back. "I do." She took the towel in her hands and wrapped it around the last roll. With her other hand, she called ice to snuff the fire in the hearth. The darkness encroached as the cold air filled the room. When his eyes adjusted, he could just make out her place in the kitchen. Her steps grew closer to him. He took a step back when her hand reached for his in the dark. He realized too late he had no idea the game he was playing. She pulled him further into the darkness until the door opened. She pulled him through gently and used a key to lock the door from the bailey. Like she said she would.

She looked at him, with a smirk and a knowing brow. "Careful." She warned with a smile. "This is a game you do not know well. There is a balance between Dibella and Mephala. One misstep and either will have her way." She walked past him through the bailey and he looked after her.

To subvert her powers, to play mortal games, she's in it for the long game. And he wondered if he was a stepping stone or the first victory.

Aside from dragons, what else did she want? His eyes dropped her wide hips and watched the sway as she walked for a moment in thought. What does she gain from playing these games with him? Could he reverse it? Could his inexperience become a weapon? His eyes shifted to the rotunda next to him as he looked up at Liliana's balcony. He didn't know how to move forward. He was a Knight playing against a queen. He looked back at Uthreida. She was a Knight too. Until she lost control. He had to keep her in control to keep the people safe. How?

Xxxx

Cullen rubbed his temples and tried to abate the migraine that was growing behind his eyes. The sun is too bright, the practice rings were too loud, and the air was too hot. He wanted to sit down and hide in the dark and wait for it to pass. But he needed the show for the men. He hid a yawn behind his hand as his Lieutenants were teaching basic sword tactics to the newer recruits.

"Good morning, Commander."

Cullen turned and saw Royoc approach in his field gear. He was heading to Crest Wood today and was making final rounds before departure. Two weeks in the keep was catching up to him. Cullen nodded as he stood next to him. "Inquisitor."

"Anything I should know?"

Cullen took a deep breath. "I would suggest moving with caution. We don't know the full abilities of Corypheus just yet and to meet with a warden who has insight, compounded with their absence, could be a trap. But" he sighed, rubbing a hand over his neck. "I know Hawke has already taken necessary precautions but, be careful. Other than that, the men are in higher morale and are eager to help the citizens where you go." He gave a nod at the Inquisitor to indicate his departure.

"Good." Royoc nodded. His eyes taking in the training rings and Cullen felt the heavy silence against his shoulders. "I have a request that I want to run by you." Cullen arched a brow but folded his arms over his chest. "As a highly trained Templar, what are some of the weaknesses that we could exploit from the Red Templars in the field?"

His attention moved from the men to Royoc in a second with a look of betrayal. "I beg your pardon?"

Royoc stood taller, adjusting his right glove as he spoke. "You train the men like Templars ready to engage with mages. But we fight Templars in the field. Not mages. I'd like to know where the Templar weaknesses are." Cullen kept his look of disbelief on his face as he blinked slowly at the Inquisitor. He cannot be serious. He wanted to learn how to kill Templars. Red Templars. Fine. But to what extent will he use that information on his own men? On the usual Templars. They're good men and the core of the Inquisition forces. Why is he so quick to betray them? Royoc arched a brow of superiority to Cullen and sighed. "Or I could ask Cassandra. Think of this as a warning to a formal order. I want slight modifications to the training so our men are better prepared for a fight with the Red Templars in the field."

Cullen clenched his jaw, realizing he had a point to the tactic but was abashed at the strategy. "Templars are highly trained warriors. Our training starts young. Defeat is no different than that of any other Knight. It requires diligence, training, and grit to take one down."

Royoc took a deep breath and met Cullen's eyes. "Two of which, our men don't have. So" he turned his eyes back to the novice rings, "what are some other methods we can use?"

Cullen ground his teeth and looked away. "This war won't always be here. If we teach the men how to kill Templars, they could-"

"What?" Royoc turned to look at Cullen, "go back to their families after this? Put the war behind them?" He held his chin up and Cullen tucked his for a fight. "You need to remove your bias and see the larger picture. The Templar order has fallen. It's only a matter of time before the rest fall to the red. I need to know how to kill them. What are their shortcomings, what are the training weaknesses, and how can our men use that in the field?"

Cullen took a deep breath to cool his rage at the Inquisitor. "I've read your reports." He said with a locked jaw. "We still have Venatori in the field as well. Training the men to defend against magic is still a priority."

Royoc scoffed. "Yes, for every thirty soldiers, bandits, or Red Templars, there's one magister. It's fairly low on my list of cares." He turned his attention back to the rings. "Train the men to kill Red Templars."

"I am." He said, letting the heat of the moment and the growing migraine loose in his voice.

Royoc turned his gaze to the rings as the soldiers were learning to hold their shields. "No, you're not." He pointed to the rings. "Holding their shields like that may be useful at redirecting lightning, but the distance between the shoulder and the shield would allow a blade to strike from above. Their grip is useless against an axe or even a war hammer." He looked at Cullen with a knowing look. If he already knew the limitations, why teach the men this. "Lead them, or watch them fall." He stated with eyes ready to kill. Or at the very least, ready to see him stand aside and go lyrium mad.

Cullen took a deep breath and had to remind himself not to yell at the Inquisitor in front of the men.

A wolf whistle caught their attention and both turned to see Bull and the Chargers make catcalls and whistles as two redheads pass with bows.

Liliana and Uthreida.

Liliana was in her usual garb but her hood had been pulled down. Uthreida was wearing her black armor. But across her shoulders was a black and gold tapestry that was belted to her shoulders but thrown over her right shoulder. Like an offside cape or shawl.

Cullen lowered a brow at the display. What in the Makers name is going on here?

Royoc sucked his teeth. "Well, it's a start."

Cullen arched a brow at the man. "What is?"

"I informed the Slayer that the nobles think she's too dark. Uncommitted. And now, she looks worse. She just got paid, can we not, I don't know, color her wardrobe or something?"

Cullen heard the annoyance in the man's voice, then looked to his wife, fighting the smirk. Bull seemed to appreciate the view as did the Chargers while Liliana smirked as she knew Uthreida was making an ass of herself showing off her new cape. Just to prove a point. She looked more ferocious with the black cape on her black armor and a black smile curled on her lips. It would take some time for it to get the revered 'weathered' look of a veteran she was going for. Bull pointed to the two of them making her look at Cullen and Royoc. She placed a hand to her chest and bowed her head. Even from this distance, Cullen could see the condescending smile on her lips.

Cullen returned the nod and looked on to his men.

He could feel Royoc staring at him. "Fix it."

"It'll fix itself."

"You're taking her side?" He stated with his arms crossed but smiled as to not give away the conversation at a distance.

Cullen only raised his head as the recruit was shoved down and got back up to face the Lieutenant. "I'm taking the path of least resistance." Royoc took a deep breath. "She's a stealth hunter. And the cape will slow her down in battle. The way she has it belted, it will be more detrimental to wear in combat. Not to mention, a fire hazard against dragons. Don't mention it for a few days, and she'll drop it."

Royoc shook his head. "Fix it."

"No need."

He gave a slight scoff. "She is your wife, Commander." He stated lower than before. "Her actions reflect the Inquisition. They reflect you. I suggest you take a proactive approach to ensure she doesn't humiliate us in front of the nobles. Again."

Cullen looked down at the man. His scathing tone made Cullen's nose twitch. Active approach, like how he took Sera and Blackwall in the field every time to ensure they didn't sneer or prank the nobles while he was away? Switching out between Solas and Dorian depending on which noble was in Skyhold who didn't want to be associated with a Tevinter or elven mage. Active approach, like he knew exactly what Royoc insinuated. "Are you suggesting I beat my wife, sir?" Cullen kept the aloof tone in his voice as he looked over the men.

Royoc chuffed as he looked over the same rings. "I'll admit, she is more approachable than she was before. But she still has a way to go before she completely submits to the Inquisition." Cullen arched a knowing brow but kept looking forward. "But she needs a push in the right direction."

Cullen took a deep breath, tightening his hands under his arms to hide his contempt for the man. "I will not beat my wife. Nor will I allow others to do it for me."

Royoc was silent even if his eyes kept to the same rings. "What have you learned?" Cullen side-eyed him quickly. "You've been married for almost a month now. What have you learned from our new 'friend'?"

That she's a living god, Cullen thought. "In what regard?"

"How to kill her? How to blackmail her? How to control her."

Cullen clenched his jaw. He had a few ideas if he's being honest. He shifted his eyes to another ring to hide his thoughts. If Royoc wanted her controlled and was relying on Cullen to find it, he may have just found his way to make himself indispensable. "Yes."

"And?" Cullen remained silent. Her weaknesses were his. She was his wife. He owed her that. Royoc chuffed a humorless laugh. "Pick yourself up, Commander. I do believe you're falling." Cullen looked at him with lowered brows and a slight scowl on his face. "Do you honestly believe she cares?" Royoc asked with a knowing look, but the callus tone in his voice made Cullen pause. "Take a step back and look at the position she's in. With magic, we don't understand. With talents that cannot be traced. With a lineage that does not exist. She has no allies, save you. A high-ranking official for the Inquisition who she, quote, accidentally, married. With ties to the Avvar." He flashed a quick smile. "Use it." Royoc redirected his gaze to the rings. "Find out what you can, as deep as you can. And silence her."

Cullen followed his gaze. Royoc had no idea what he was asking. He had no clue of who or what she really was. Not unlike himself. Maker be damned, no one will say that he's not trying. "If there's nothing more." Cullen dismissed the man, not moving, not looking at him. Breathing through the anger of wanting to punch the man.

Royoc scoffed and stood taller, hearing the dismissal but laughed it off. "As you were" his tone darker than before. "Knight-Captain." Royoc stepped off with a slight saunter as if he won this round. Cullen rolled his eyes and instantly regretted it. The change in the light making his head throb again. He waited until Royoc was a decent distance away from him when he turned slightly. Uthreida had left Bull and walked to the archery range with Liliana. The women were discussing something and laughing at each other's stories. When he could afford to flit his eyes across the field, he noticed she was practicing her long shots. And assisting other soldiers. Helping them to find their center and increasing their accuracy with positive reinforcement. A dark coil churned in his stomach. She needs to be careful around Leliana. She knows that right? Royoc's after her.

After an hour, she dropped the cape and was helping the sergeant at arms with archery. He found himself smiling softly at her actions. She held patience for the soldiers that he wasn't expecting. The nobles feared her, but he knew that the men would grow to appreciate her. Her vast training would benefit them. He should put her in the rings and help some of the soldiers more.

His smile turned mischievous, as he wondered how much it would piss off Royoc if she wore that cape like a battle skirt.

"Commander?" He turned to see Lieutenant Overbridge looking up at him with wide eyes. "The logistician meeting is in twenty minutes, Sir. Do you need anything for it?"

He took a breath and cleared his mind. He nodded at the Lieutenant. "Work, work, work." He mumbled with a smirk to the Lieutenant who met his smile. "Let's go."