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.

11. Chapter 11

A/N: Let's do this. Politics are hard.

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Cullen took a breath as he was finally able to escape from everyone else.

He took up his room in the rented salon by invitation from some duke or another on behalf of Vivienne. The fear and trepidation had started in his shoulders when he was sitting through and instructing the nights' events at Halamshiral between the Inquisitor's inner circle and his men. He swallowed back the social anxiety that the night will bring. Seeing Josephine's cautious eyes kept falling to him as she explained, again, court edicts and procedures. Liliana's cold eyes on the back of his head as she spoke. They were looking at him to mess all of this up even though Sera and Uthreida were smirking like villains.

It was decided that Sera, Blackwall, Cole, and Solas were to act as the Inquisitor's personal bodyguards, wearing the usual armor of the Inquisition and keeping him safe. Dorian, Vivienne, Varric, Bull, and Cassandra were to go as the political decoys for the Inquisition as each held some connection to the courts or nobility. To distract the nobility as the 'guards' moved with impunity. Under the backdrop of the game. Specifically, the guards who had no reason to be seen or wouldn't be seen.

Liliana's agents would move the actual troops in to stand in place of the 'guards' so they could act getting behind closed doors where the others maintain a sense of presence.

Which means the advisors would also have to be in full view. And according to Josephine's looks, was preparing for Cullen to make a complete ass of himself while in view of the nobles.

But his eyes kept going to Uthreida. He had a basic sense of the land. She didn't. Why weren't they looking at her? There's no way she was that well trained in the two-week ride to the castle.

Cullen clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath and resting against the door. The mannequin stood opposite to him with the red coat and blue sash, the high boots waiting to be put on. The designer had only made enough uniforms for the individuals that were intending to be seen. Ironically, the ones Royoc chose to be seen were often the ones who either with half or no shirt on.

He pushed himself off the door and stepped to the uniform. Red, reminiscent of the chantry. And his Kirkwall uniform. He clenched his jaw at the idea but stepped away. He started to remove his jerkin and noticed the linen-wrapped package on the bed. It was wrapped in black and blue brocade with thin twine. The package was large and a small scrap of parchment with his name on it.

He pulled the small string and opened it. It was a pile of fabric and leather. On top was a parchment written in Orlesian. But it looked like a bill of sale. His eyes dropped to the letter R with two vertical lines running through it. R150.

His eyes widened. One hundred fifty royals for this? He lifted one of the fabrics and noticed it looked like the shirt that Uthreida had commissioned for him. It looked...good. If a bit dark. The padding and velveteen reminded him of brigantine armor in a way. His eyes dropped to the leather and arched an annoyed brow. Boots if he had to guess.

Darker tan with a decent sole. And a short heel. Lacing on the sides and top of the foot.

He ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth in distaste. Not at the clothes, she had a good eye, he gave his wife that. He hated the idea of being indebted to her.

He pursed his lips. Did she pay for this? Thank you, but..why?

He clenched his jaw and placed all the items back on the bed. Trying not to think of how he was going to mess up tonight or draw unwanted attention to himself surrounded by the nobles. He ran the bathing cloth and soap over his body as he tried to breathe through the anxiety that was coming up his throat.

What if he said the wrong thing?

What if he did the wrong thing?

What if he offends the wrong person?

What if his withdrawals started while at the party?

What if he gets a migraine or has a seizure at the ball?

What if he proves to the nobles that he's not supposed to be there?

Is there time for him to get a draft of lyrium before the event?

He took a breath and tried to push the ideas out of his head. None of that is going to happen because the seizures were rare and it's been a few months since his last.

Which means he's due for another one.

No, it's not going to happen. Breathe.

He swallowed it back. It's not going to happen. Let it go.

Everything hinges on tonight. The Inquisition can't exactly march through Orlais without the emperors-Ess's consent. He can't move the army to the Wardens in the Western Approach if they can't back the ruler. They can't set up encampments in the area without Celene. Or Gaspard.

He closed his eyes, leaning over the washing basin. A measure of the military is the measure of its general. Loghain had said. If that's the case, if he's concerned with himself, they will see it as his men are concerned for themselves.

He had to get through this.

One way or another.

He had to play nice and hopefully, make a few friends. People who will back the military. People who can back him. Prove to Royoc that he deserves to be here.

He took another breath, regretting he had avoided all the 'Soiree's' with Josephine to prep him for this night.

Maker, is it really important he attends?

He breathed through the regret and stood taller. He had to. It was needed. It was required. Besides, someone had to keep an eye on his wife as she spoke to nobles from another land.

He took a deep breath and walked to the manikin again. He got the idea of how it's supposed to look and dressed it down and started to put on the uniform from the bottom up.

He slipped the shirt over his head and his eyes caught the black of the jerkin again. He smirked, and a sense of curiosity and, honestly, procrastination, filled him. He slipped the black jerkin over his shoulders and stood before the mirror. He frowned in approval as he held the opening closed. It looked good. And fit well. He took in the silver-grey embroidery at the collar and cuffs. It continued for the padded piping down his chest to emphasize his muscles and thin waist.

A knock on the door made him turn. He didn't have time to stop the intruder as the door opened and the Tivinter popped his head in. His well-meaning smile dropped into a scowl as he entered the door. The door shutting behind him. "That is just unfair." He flicked a wrist at the Commander.

Cullen smiled but gave a heavy breath. "I'm just trying it on. I'll be ready in a minute."

He slipped the black off his shoulders but Dorian shoved it back on. Cullen tried not to stiffen at the contact. He looked over Cullen's shoulders in the mirror with a smirk. "You would do well in the Imperium, Commander. Though, I don't know how I feel about the silver. Gold would've been more appropriate."

Cullen smirked. "Utha said the same thing."

Cullen watched Dorian slowly turned his head towards him. "Utha?" a smile pulling at the darker man's mustache.

Cullen looked away quickly. "Lady Uthreida, uh, suggested gold." He cleared his throat to change the topic. He turned to face the mage. "Did you need something?" Cullen moved to remove the coat.

The mage had a knowing smile on his face. "I was instructed to help you."

Cullen lowered a brow. "Do what?"

Dorian's eyes fell to the red doublet and sash still on the stand. Cullen rolled his eyes. He's not completely inept. He may not wear these kinds of clothes all the time, but he can figure it out. Dorian held up a hand to stop the argument before it got out of hand. "Inquisitor Royoc and Josephine asked me to check on you is all."

Cullen clenched his jaw. No one believed he could dress and wanted it done right the first time. He looked the Tivinter over that wasn't wearing his sash, the buttons weren't closed, and his boots weren't even laced. And they're worried about Cullen?

Dorian smiled but crossed his arms as he backed off. "I will inform them that you're on your way."

Cullen sneered at the man. "Thank you" he stated dryly.

He smirked with approval as he turned his back. "Let me know if you need anything." He stated over his shoulder.

He's not a complete child. Cullen clenched his jaw as he ripped the sash off the mannequin and finished dressing. He heard Dorian take a breath. "Commander," there was a hitch to his voice that made Cullen turn his hips to the man. A small note of concern in his one word. Cullen's rage simmered slightly as he looked at the mage. Dorian drew a breath to speak but left the room in silence.

Cullen slipped the jerkin over his shoulders in simmering hatred as he ran the tonics for his hair through and finished dressing for the evening.

He checked his belting, sash, jerkin, and boots before making his way to the entry of the Salon. It was slightly comical to see Sera in Inquisition Soldier armor poking fun at Solas who dropped a few pieces due to weight. Cullen wanted to correct the elf mage, who looked at him with annoyed and exhausted patience. Cullen nodded at the man to keep silent. Few if any of the nobles would know the difference and let it slide. He did only drop the ring mail and tassets.

He looked around the room and noticed that almost everyone was ready to go to the chariots that were supposed to transport them to the castle in a few minutes. He looked at the water clock in the entryway table and looked to the stairs in annoyance. They were going to be late because of Liliana and Josephine. He did a quick count. And Vivienne and Uthreida. Of course.

Cassandra walked to his side with a slight frown. Cullen noticed her kohl was thicker and had a slight rouge on her cheeks. That's why she's angered. "Seeker."

"Commander."

"Where are the other four?" He kept his tone light in hopes of not letting her see the anxiety that had wormed its way back into his chest.

She sighed as Royoc approached. "Lady Pentaghast." He said with a smile. "You look absolutely ravishing tonight."

She kept a bored expression but noticed her neck heated at the compliment. "Thank you, Inquisitor." Her tone was bland as she looked the man over in his equally tight uniform.

"Do you have a stick?" Royoc asked with a smirk. Cassandra arched a confused brow. "Because you're going to need it tonight." Cassandra rolled her eyes and made a disgusted sound. Cullen smirked at her response. "Is everything alright up there?" He asked, looking up to the stairs.

Cassandra followed his gaze and sighed. "I will find out." She said with a low tone. She stepped off and strode up the stairs to the women's quarters.

Royoc looked over Cullen quickly with a dismissing brow. Cullen pursed his lips at him. "Thank you for sending Dorian for his assistance." He said deadpanned. "I don't know how I would've managed without him."

Royoc seemed to notice the meaning as his back straightened. "Then it would appear you need to thank him and not I. Excuse me." Cullen tried not to look after him in distaste as he walked off to speak to his 'guards' with a wide smile.

The house groomsmen entered and waited by the door to show the chariots were ready to depart. Cullen rolled his eyes. And now they're late. Cullen crossed his arms as he leaned against the pillar, waiting on his wife. Biting his cheek as he mentally went over the court etiquette in his head.

"Breathe." Cullen looked over to see Blackwall adjusting the gloves of his heavy armor with a smirk. "You're thinking too much."

Cullen released a shaking breath as he looked over the room. "I have no idea what I'm doing or what I'm getting into."

The Warden chuckled softly and matched his posture. "It doesn't matter. The great game sees what they want to and ignores everything else." Cullen arched a brow at the advice even if it ran perpendicular to what Josephine had repeatedly stated. If they see a weakness, a flaw, they'll pounce. And polite smiles never came easily to him. "You'll be fine," Blackwall told him with a smile.

He took another deep breath and let it out. Across the room, Bull stood with his wide chest and horns watching the room with his one good eye. His silver eye flicked to Cullen with a smirk but looked on. "Somehow, I doubt that," Cullen said under his breath.

Blackwall chuckled. "Look, you're Ferelden, right? I'm sure whatever you do will be charming."

Cullen arched a brow at the dark man. "Like a lost dog?"

"Precisely." The Warden laughed again. "Just be yourself."

Cullen sighed. "Don't suppose you want to switch places for the night. You seem to know what you're doing."

"I'd rather not." He said with a pained smirk. Cullen grunted. "Need a drink?"

Lyrium if you have it. Cullen took a breath. The last thing he needed was to have alcohol cloud his mind tonight. "No, but thank you."

"Head up," Cullen turned to see Josephine at the top of the stairs with the left and right hand of the Divine, Lady Vivienne, and Uthreida.

"The last time I didn't see where me feet were going, I covered me dress in blood." The Slayer retorted as she lifted her skirts to make her descent down the stairs. Cullen raised his brows for a moment. The usually braided leather necklace she wore was pulled below her bodice and trailed his eyes down. She wore a red and cream brocade fitted bodice that was off-shoulder showcasing her scars and woven black tattoos across her chest. The sleeves were slit mutton that showed the same brocade and plain red of her skirts. The sleeves covered the scars on her arms and most of her hand tattoos. A blue sash at her waist that went up and over a shoulder like the Inquisition but also showcased her as someone of importance in Orlais. The plain red bell skirts were wide and full. Showing the vast difference in her hips and waist. Around her waist was a thin black belt. In her offhand was a white shawl.

He had to lock his knees so as not to approach her as she crossed the room. Her red hair was braided into a crown that wrapped around her head twice. Her eyes still rimmed in her usual black kohl, if thinner. Her wide ice blue eyes searched the room for a moment. But she locked eyes with him as she reached the landing. The way she turned her head, Cullen thought she had to pull her eyes from him. A slowed, awed thought crossed his mind as he looked at her muscled shoulders as her back turned to him, the red satin lacing of her bodice going down her back and bowed at the base of her spine. That's...his...wife.

He only registered that her dress was similar to the Inquisition uniform. She could replace Royoc. She could out him. Cullen would follow her. He looked away from the thought.

She was certainly a beauty from across the room. But that forked tongue.

"Now," Josephine took her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders and neck to hide her chest. Cullen noticed it was white fur. And wide. The white bear pelt? Wait, is she mocking him?

Uthreida placed two gold disks and a short-chain at her shoulders to hold it closed and in place. "When you meet the Empress, you are to-" the Antivan let the sentence hang to see if the Slayer was paying attention. Uthreida smiled at the overstressed woman. Uthreida held a hand to her chest and bowed low to show she knew what she was doing. "When do you rise?"

"When she tells me to," Uthreida said exhausted but kept her position.

"Good." She waved a hand for the Slayer. Josephine took a breath.

Uthreida smiled at her and took the Antivan's hands into hers. "You stress too much, Lady Josephine." The ambassador shot her a warning look. "All will be well. The gods are with us."

"Please don't say that."

Uthreida chuckled softly. "All will be well."

"Lady Uthreida is quite right, Lady Josephine," Royoc said as he approached the five women. "Tonight will go exactly as we have planned. Everything will be alright." Cullen felt himself breathe with the Ambassador. The Inquisitor had confidence but questioned how much was arrogance. "You look stunning, Lady Rutherford," Royoc looked her over. Cullen clenched his jaw and bit back the urge to bellow at the man that she was his wife. He should be the one to tell her she was beau...looked appropriate.

Her smile faded. "I know." She stated with her usual sass and self-confidence. "And it's Storm-Blade."

Cullen smirked as he watched her stand up to him. That's my girl, he thought.

"You are aware that weapons are not authorized in Halamshiral?" Royoc stated with the same smile. Cullen looked at her waist again. Her skirts hiding her weapon.

"Swords and axes are part of my culture. And seeing as how I am a blade of my king, you" she emphasized with a hip, "will not strip it from me."

"They'll stop you at the door."

She gave a halfhearted shrug and walked past him. "Then it would appear that Orlais will not have trade with Skyrim. Which is the exact reason I was even invited. Shall we?" She waved a hand to the door. Royoc held her by the arm to stop her from leaving. Cullen felt the room hold their breath as they watched the two. Royoc looked at Josephine who took a breath as if to say she tried. Royoc's brown eyes turned to Cullen, demanding he does something. Cullen only looked at him, waiting on him to strike his wife. "Order something, or lose your hand." She stated coldly. "I'll be sure to leave the one that's of some use." Royoc's rage filled his eyes as he slowly released her. "You" she scoffed, "will not strip me of my weapon." She forcefully removed her arm from his grasp and walked past him. "Master Tethras" she stated with a smile, "if I were not a married woman." She placed a hand over her heart as she looked down at him.

The dwarf gave an awkward chuckle at her but offered an arm nonetheless and escorted her out. There was a heavy pause to the room as everyone was unsure if she left the situation behind her, or just took a hostage.

Blackwall cleared his throat and moved to guard the Inquisitor as Uthreida left the Salon. The others closer to the door followed in silence.

Royoc smiled at the room to show he was unperturbed. But his eyes portrayed resentment to Cullen who made the required stop to his side. Royoc took a breath. "Will you-"

"Not even going to hear it," Cullen stated quickly so he could oversight the soldiers and loading of the carriages. He quickly approached the carriage that Uthreida was getting into and pulled her arm back gently.

She met his gaze and rolled her eyes. She backed out and stood before him with an annoyed look. Cullen looked around her. "Go ahead, Varric." He waved two fingers for her to follow. He stood away from the door and slightly out of sight as he looked down at her.

"I'm not apologizing." She stated quickly. Cullen kept his jaw locked and crossed his arms. "For any of it." He arched a skeptical brow. "You heard how he was speaking." He remained silent. "Cullen," she took a breath, "I don't trust him. I don't know what it is, but I can't. I don't trust his orders and if you're concerned with assassins, why would I go without a weapon?"

"Because you are a weapon." He stated low so no one else could hear.

She opened her mouth to argue but snapped her jaw. "They don't need to know that." She hissed, but the curling of her lips bowed playful guilt and deception. "Look, the last time I went to a 'noble gathering' without a weapon, I almost died." Cullen arched a brow. "I...may have misunderstood the mission. But the point still stands-"

He sighed deeply at her. "Uthreida," he said with patience, "I understand you saw an opportunity and you're taking it, but-"

"I am representing Skyrim tonight, not the Inquisition."

"Can I finish?"

"Axes are part of my culture and I'm not trying-"

"You look beautiful." She looked at him with a lowered brow and slightly slacked jaw. That shut her up. "You're taking a liberty. I understand, but be warned, if you can't get into Halamshiral because of your weapon, you sever validity of your homeland."

"Actually," she said with a chuckle, "our stubborn pride is a national staple."

"Utha." He warned again, "diplomacy requires compromise. You invalidate your nation because you're unwilling to compromise for the safety of others at a national level." He tilted his head to make a point. "You are representing Skyrim. Your people need trade. Represent your people as best you can so they don't starve."

She took a deep breath and growled. "Fine."

"Thank you."

"But I'm still wearing it."

"Still missing the point." He took a moment to breathe. "For the record, I'm not condoning your public argument with the Inquisitor. But I'm proud of you for standing for your heritage and position. And values. That said, do remember, he has significant pull with the courts. You don't. And he, apparently, has a grudge. Now, get in the carriage and I suggest you think about your next steps carefully."

She glowered but slowly smiled. "Do you really think I look beautiful?" There was a shyness as she curled a shoulder at him to make herself smaller.

He arched a comical brow as he noticed the light makeup painted against her cheeks, fading her freckles. Her lips were painted a soft pink. Her thin kohl accentuated her eyes instead of hiding them. He looked away with a smirk. "How do I put this in a way you'll understand?" He looked around them to make sure the conversation was between them. He removed the smile as he watched the group enter the carriages and take their places. "I'll be thinking of that dress later tonight." He said with a serious expression even as she ducked her head from him. "Now, get that smile off your face and get in the carriage."

"Aye, Commander." She said softly, the roll of her accent of his title made his stomach heat as she turned from him. He let her enter the rear carriage unassisted. He checked the three carriages. He started in the rear and took a count making sure no one was left behind. Bull rode with the groomsmen and Sera on the rear with Cassandra, Varric, and Uthreida. The second had Blackwall on the rear with Dorian, Liliana, and Vivienne riding. The first had the groomsmen with Cole and Solas on the rear. Royoc and Josephine riding in the carriage. All accounted for. He walked to the front carriage and got in. Royoc arched an annoyed brow at him while Josephine smiled demurely. "Carriages are loaded. Ready when you are." Cullen stated with a strong tone to the Inquisitor.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Groomsmen." He said out the window. "We're ready."

After the oddly silent forty-five-minute carriage ride, they had arrived at their destination. Cullen was the first to exit and assisted Josephine on her exit. Royoc gave an amused look as the groomsmen stood behind him, waiting to do their jobs. Failed step one.

Cullen straightened his jerkin and assessed the situation before him. Six of their soldiers, armor shining in the moonlight, stood guard and ready for the entrance of the evening. He gave a nod to those who looked at him, silently warning them to be vigilant. He stood aside and watched as the carriages were emptied and counted for each soul that existed or disembarked from the carriages. The actual soldiers replacing the imitation guards on rotation.

The third carriage emptied and he held his breath when he saw the white shoulder caps in the moon. Cullen clenched his jaw. Ignoring the heat that was traveling over his body as she stood in the moonlight. Smiling at Varric who said something charming to her. She met his eyes and smiled. She held an open hand to him as if to allow him near her. His feet went numb as he approached. She took his arm and walked towards the gates like everyone else. Her scent was pungent and reeked of roses that made him breathe through his mouth for a moment. As his eyes took in the thick white fur mantel. "Are you making fun of me?"

Her head tilted down, her defiance turned to playful anger. With a breath, she waved it off. "I don't know why I'm surprised that you think so little of me." She started to walk past him and he fisted his hand as he heard the familiar sound of metal. She still had her black blade attached to her hip.

"Utha, we talked about this."

She met his gaze as his eyes dropped to the weapon that was mostly hidden in the folds of her skirting. "But I'm a barbarous savage, remember?" Her mirthful lit disappeared as she looked forward. "I'll do as I will."

Cullen took a calming breath. "You need this night just as much as we do. We still have time to place it in the carriages."

"I don't think I will."

"Utha" he warned.

"Make me." Was her only response as they took a step forward. Her confidence and his anger once again at odds.

He offered a breathless chuckle. "Oh," he knelt down to whisper in her ear, "don't threaten me in that dress, dear."

"Oh, Yuvon valok," her eyes trailed over him with lowered lids. Her hand resting on the tang of her sword on her hip. "You should know me better than that." Her blue eyes watching him with mirth and promise, knowing he was unarmed. She winked, "Watch this." She whispered as it was her turn to present her invitation to the door master. It was a short man, 5'6" with a golden mask and an overly complicated orange and gold outfit on. Uthreida handed him her invitation, her breast jut out, her brow raised, and an overall look of 'better than you' written on her posture.

The man cleared his throat "Dragon Born Uthreida Storm-Blade; Yes-i-mere"

"Yesimer" She seethed and a roll of her tongue at the title.

The man gave an apological bow. "Yesimer of the North, Crowner of High King Ulfric Stormcloak; Thane of Whiterun, Winterhold, Falkreith, Hall March."

"Hjaalmarch," she seethed again.

And again he bowed. "and Solitude; Commander of the Blades; Lieutenant of the Dawnguard; Arch Mage to the College of Winterhold; Blood of the Orsimer," she gave a heavy breath at his mispronunciation again, "Dragon Slayer of the Inquisition." She gave a head nod and proceeded to walk forward. The man held up his hands. "I'm sorry, but no weapons are allowed in the Winter Palace." His accent thick with condensation.

Her ice-blue eyes turned to the man, she took advantage of the three additional inches she had on him. With a red brow and an emotionless mask, "You have just read all of my titles. I am a Thane of five holdings. My weapon is my honor. The only person who has the authority to strip me of my honor and duty is my own King. Do you have that authority?" The man seemed to pause at her loaded question and growling voice, looking for an excuse, and she waited patiently for it.

"My lady, all I mean is that it is against tradition-"

"Check my invitation again." The short man did as instructed with more feebleness in his fingers than expected as her tone cut him to ribbons. "Special Invite from the Empress herself. Perhaps you can confirm if my honor is allowed on these grounds." She tilted her head back at the word, and he paused again, her eyes ablaze with a want for the small man's blood. Cullen watched as she controlled him with just the notion that she was a barbarian and took delight in it.

When the man's eyes shifted to the gate then her several times. She took a deep breath. "Perhaps we can arrange an accord?" He offered with a hint of trepidation and gave a soft bow at her.

Uthreida seemed to cool down and consider it. She pulled a golden rope from...somewhere and tied an elaborate knot on her weapon to ensure it could not be drawn. "Do you agree with the knot?" she showed it to him, allowing him to test the strength of it.

The man didn't even try to look at the brother-hood knot but only nodded. "Yes, My lady, and please, welcome to the Winter Palace."

Cullen lowered his eyelids in suspicion at her. She saw it, and he shook his head slowly. With confident air, she walked past him, her white bear shoulder caps reflecting off the moon. Cullen passed his invitation which seemed shorter in comparison. "Ser Cullen Rutherford of Honnleath, Commander of the Inquisition Forces. Former Knight Commander of Kirckwall." He followed after the Uthreida and wondered how many jars of balls she had on the mantle at her home. How proudly are they displayed? Are they palquared with each name of her victims?

He watched as the guards stood at their posts, and Royoc was pulled away by another man. Gaspard if he had to guess. "There is no way you have that many titles." He hissed the whisper into her side as they walked together.

She barely looked at him as she walked with confidence into the courtyard of the Winter Palace. "Liar and juvenile, all in one night." She scathed at him. She turned to grab some food that was being passed out by a busboy and turned to him. "Enjoy it while you can, Commander. You had better pray that Skyrim is not located on this planet. Because if it is, I will ensure that you are embarrassed for every inch of you that is feeling self-righteous right now." She popped the over fancied hors d'oveure into her mouth with a smirk. Her face changed into disgust as she walked behind him.

"Don't you dare." Josephine hissed at her.

Cullen watched in amusement as the Slayer forced herself to swallow. Shaking her fists at her sides, then gave a loud gulp. "Tastes like promised death." Her face back to its emotionless mask.

Cullen tilted his head with a smile. That does sound like an Orlesian delicacy. He wanted to warn her of the food, but the thought of her embarrassing herself seemed more rewarding. Childish, though it was. His smirk faded. She was here with the Inquisition. She would reflect on them.

"That was escargot." Josephine whispered to her, keeping her eyes on the scenery of the courtyard.

She only looked more confused. Uthreida arched a brow in dismay for a long pause. "I'm sure there's a very long story that includes a lack of decent hunters that required the needs for such," her eyes jutted to the tray again, "pallets."

Cullen rolled his eyes as Josephine stepped away. "Don't eat the food unless you have to. And for Maker's sake, don't spit it out."

She looked him over with a haughty look but nodded in understanding. They wandered for a time until a woman had pulled them aside, gently touching Uthreida by the arm.

"Dragon Slayer," her Orlesian accent thick and rich, "Is that fur all the rage in Ferelden." She gave a laugh from behind her hand and the other two females behind her tittered as well.

Cullen wanted to roll his eyes and warn her that this is exactly what he was trying to avoid. Uthreida just gave the woman her best charming smile. "The skjoll is an article worn by Jarls and Thanes, or Arls and Champions, of holdings in Skyrim to indicate their deeds and position in the court, my lady. With the current trade agreements underway in Ferelden, I would like to introduce the customs to future trade partners here in Orlais, as you are willing to extend yours to me." She gave a slight bow, her left wrist resting on the pommel of her blade.

There was a smirk on the woman's face as she tread closer. "Tell me, is there anything in Orlais that has caught your eye for future trading?"

"As of yet, no. But that does not mean that I am against the idea of future trade between our two lands."

The woman pulled her head back slightly, in awe. "Orlais has nothing to offer to, where ever you're from?"

"After visiting the marketplace of Val Royal, no. The silk here, while beautiful and supple, will not withstand a Skyrim winter. The Orlesian yue is of lesser quality than Ferelden and of higher price. The spices are substandard than that what is found in Skyrim. The ore and wine are imported. The only resource I can find in Orlais is the art, culture, poetry, small frilly cakes, and simply the shape and view of the land. If trade agreements can be made with my homeland, I can see Orlais becoming a holiday for travel rather than of quantifiable imports."

Cullen wanted to drop his jaw at her blatant attack. She did not just put down an entire country in front of its residents. The women simply laughed. "My dear, there is so much of Orlais that you are simply overlooking."

Uthreida gave a mildly confused look then a simple laugh. "My apologies. I fear my view of Orlais is restrained to what I have only seen and read. Perhaps, if you will humor me, you can point me to the finer details that I, obviously, have missed."

"Of course you have. Surrounded by Ferelden dog lords in the mountains..." Uthreida shot a look at Cullen who only arched an annoyed brow. The noble quickly retracted with a "Present company not included," then licked her lips appreciatively at him for a moment. "Tell me, what is that Orlais can benefit from, I'm sorry, where are you from again?"

"Skyrim." The woman nodded. "And I fear we have nothing to offer you as well. Just shy of our Black-Briar Meadery and jewelry, but it is of lesser stature than of yours, my lady." Uthreida gently placed her hand to her neck to indicate the woman's overly dazzling diamond necklace.

Cullen saw the necklace and clenched his jaw. She was talking to the Empresses ladies in waiting. He leaned towards Uthreida and whispered in her ear "They are the Empresses ladies in waiting."

Uthreida smiled at them with full teeth. "Ah" she leaned back slightly to whisper back, "What are they waiting on?"

Cullen wanted to slap her in the back of the head hoping that years of learning and education that he had to endure would impart on her. However, he was forced to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance at the woman. He looked up and saw the women tittering again behind their fans. He quickly shot her a side glance in anger to see her looking at him in a calm demeanor. She's feigning barbarism. Uthreida softly tilted her head to the women for him to save her and his own face. Her eyes widened for a second calling urgency to him.

He swallowed quickly. "Forgive her, please. Lady Uthreida is not accustomed to the" he paused for the right word, "civilized court structure. No matter the number of lessons we try to give."

"I'm told I can be quite barbaric." Uthreida joked. "Abrasive and obstinate."

The ladies, taken a slight gasp of shock, then finish with a courtly smile. "We understand." The one to the right said with a slight curtsey. "Then we shall speak plainly then."

"Yes." The one on the left stated. "After all, it would not do to speak to the Empress in such a way."

"Of course." Uthreida gave a slight bow to the women.

"Ah," the center looked behind Utherida with another smile. "The Inquisitor."

Royoc made his way to his people, but hearing his title, changed direction to intervene in the conversation before him. He gave a sweeping bow to the women.

The women all gave a bow in return. "Inquisitor, Lady Slayer. Once everyone has been settled, the Empress would like to speak with you. Privately, if possible." She waved her hand as if to imaginarily dot the 'private' of her sentence.

"I would be honored," Uthreida stated with a slight bow.

"I will do as the Empress commands," Royoc stated and gave a bow of his own.

The women all flittered out of their gaze as the three stood and watched them go. "It's best we make our way in, don't you think?" The two gave a nod in agreement and followed Royoc to the gates of the castle to the vestibule.

xxxxx

Uthreida was flanked on either side by a fat man who was drumming on about soup or something while a thinner female was politely nodding with him. Two others claimed to be esteemed hunters who were speaking at her rather than to her. Uthreida took a drink of some alcohol that was passed to her, politely ignoring all of their conversations. The slight burn was more of a comfort than anything. Her eyes glazing the vestibule and looking for a familiar face.

Lady Vivienne seemed engrossed in a laughing conversation with five to seven people. Cassandra stood alone by the stairs but was certain her folded arms made more of a stance than any conversation.

So far, all she could gather was that the lowliest of the room looked to her as she stood in a corner watching the room. She was supposed to watch for peculiar actions but knew little of the Orlesian 'eccentricities" to know what she was even looking for.

The fat man reached a hand to touch her and she jumped at the contact. She snarled at the man who seemed to take a shocking step back, then smirked. "My my, aren't you jumpy."

Uthreida held her wrist to her blade and stepped forward. "We use the phrase prepared." He chuffed. "Excuse me, but this conversation has left me in a dire need of better company. And better conversationalists. The corner is yours."

She stepped away and frantically looked for some air. Never feeling so caged in her life.

She found her way to a veranda and looked over the lands. The breeze curling under her furs and calming her heart rate. She looked at the nightscape. For someone who claims to be so accustomed to being an outsider, being forced into this was rather odd. And lonely. She took a breath and asked Tsun for guidance.

"Did you see" a woman whispered to another behind her, trying to keep their voices down, "that dog lord? The poor thing."

"I know," a second whispered with more excitement, "I want to get close but he's surrounded."

The first sighed, "If he wasn't so Ferelden, father may have said otherwise. Better than the arrangement I'm already inclined to."

Uthreida smirked, keeping her back to the women. There was only one man here who fit that bill.

The second scoffed. "Please, we both know your arrangement is only to pay for your father's debts."

The first hmphed. "It would be a shame if something were to happen to my beloved so soon after the wedding. Especially with the war. His men would grieve."

The second chuckled. "And his estate in the north would fall to ruin without their Duke. A tragedy if not fallen into the right hands."

"Agreed." There was a small titter and Uthreida took a sip of her drink. She waited until the women had left before slowly turning around to see what they were wearing.

Uthreida passed the vestibule to look for her dearest. She found him, crossed armed, and surrounded by six people. The little crease of annoyance in his brow was accentuated by his locked jaw. She smirked at his plight as she leaned against the wall, watching him struggle.

He met her eyes and arched a brow at her wonderment. She only smirked more. He was uncomfortable. She could see that. He didn't have the sword on his hip that brought him comfort. His eyes narrowed to her. She smiled at him, asking silently if he needed help with a brow and tilt of her head. He jutted his jaw at her and took a deep breath. Then furrowed his brows in a plea at her.

She pushed herself off the wall and walked into another hall. She found Bull effectively guarding the snack table.

"Slayer."

"Bull." She said with a smirk as she looked over the choices. Bull kept his attention on the room. "What's good?"

Bull looked her over for a second before breaking his post. "These" he pointed to a crystal dish that had colorful little almond shapes. "These" he pointed to the tiered plate of small cakes, "and, I personally like the cherry hearts." He pointed to the last three tarts in a plate.

Uthreida passed him one and took the plate. She loaded up some of the almond things and ate one. It was sweet on her tongue but as she swallowed, there was a heat to it. She fanned her face in delight.

"I know, right?"

She made an approving sound. "I like these." She looked the Qunari over quickly. "Dragons."

He looked confused for a moment. "What of them?"

"Just say dragons."

He looked her over quickly. "Dragons."

"Thank you." She popped another almond into her mouth. "So, not that I wasn't listening, but what are we supposed to be doing?"

He smirked at her. "Gathering intel."

She looked at their shared room. "What do you think about all this?"

He gave a quick breath and sighed. "Usual and boring. The layers of lies, secrets, and scandals." He gave a minor shrug. He looked at the food. "I take it you're going to go save your husband?"

She smiled at his insight. "If I can."

He gave a gruff sigh. "He's gonna need it. Otherwise, he's going to wake up with no memory and curious why his ass hurts. Or his jaw."

Uthreida looked at the larger Quanri with covertred eyes. There was a truth, but a real concern to her. Uthreida smiled at the Dunmer. "Thank you, Bull. Wish me luck." He gave a head tilt but went back to surveying the room.

She took a deep breath and made her way back to the ballroom. From the rear, she could see his shoulders were taught. And the chords on his neck were barely hidden from the collar. She was able to gently push her way towards her husband who was currently clenching his jaw as two women vaguely fawned, a man was rubbing his shoulder, and another was waving his glass in a loud story about his recent hunt.

A woman chortled. "Commander, has anyone ever told you have such pretty eyes?"

"Several times this evening, actually." He stated nonchalantly.

Uthreida placed a soft hand at the small of his back. Cullen turned to glair but met his eyes, her hand holding the food for his inspection. He lowered his brows at her.

"My apologies, I kept getting distracted by people wanting to speak of dragons. Have you tried these?" She popped another almond into her mouth and smiled at him. He took a deep breath, his tension lessening, and looked away. His eyes falling to the group that was looking at her. "You should try one. It's sweet then a heat. Here." She held one in her fingers to feed him. He shot her an odd look that she quickly winked at. He leaned down to her hand with an open mouth and she popped it in.

She watched him as he watched her with a skeptical look and chewed slowly. He coughed slightly when the heat hit.

"They are good, no?" A man stated next to them. "Saffron almonds from Antiva are quite the delicacy. Here." The man offered his cup of wine, she assumed, but Cullen waived it off. The man's silver mask shifted to her. "Miss, if memory serves, you are the dragon slayer. Is that right?" His white and green jacquard outfit with wide collar marked him as a noble.

"Aye." She ran her hand along Cullen's back and to his arm. She took the bend of his arm to make him relax in front of the nobles. Cullen took a breath, flicking his eyes annoyed at her, but gave her his arm.

The man gave a low chuckle. "I heard that you rode a dragon in the annual hunt in Lydes and set it free. Even proclaimed that dragons were safe under your charge."

Uthreida smiled kindly at him as a soft laugh escaping her chest. "That's not what occurred, Ser. But I don't wish to waste your time with accuracies if you are intent to believe the fiction."

He swirled his drink. "My cousin was at that hunt. He told me himself."

Uthreida licked her lips. The cousin lied as only nobles not participants in the hunt saw what she did. "Was your cousin a hunter, then?"

"He was." The man stated with a smile.

No wonder. All of that occurred while the hunters were still in the forest. "Do you wish to hear the story?" Cullen ate another almond to keep himself silent.

"Please," another voice said from the back of the small crowd. His golden mask and pointed nose at her. The crowd moved to make room for him. "I'd love to hear the story of the dragon savior."

Cullen bowed his head. "Grand Duke Gaspard." Uthreida followed his cue and bowed her head like him.

He waved a flagrant hand. "Please, regal to us how you saved the dragon, Miss."

She arched a comical brow at his tone but Cullen tightened his grip on her hand. She swallowed back her hubris and smiled. "Quite the interesting story, if I may say so. Remember," she smiled at the crowd, "the first dragon I slew with the Inquisition was the Fereldan Frost Back. A huge high dragon. Beautiful, she was. Then asked to attend a dragon hunt. I had assumed it would be of the same size. When I found it, I was disappointed to see it no larger than a dog." She held a hand to her knees to show its height. "The wee thing. Covered in scars, shaking in fear. Hungary. Cold. Alone. I thought this is no dragon. It's a wee lamb. So, aye. I fed it, and let it go so in a few years, we may do honorable battle."

Gaspard's smile sent a shiver down her spine. "The dragon was slain after the event, my lady. Without honor by some local trapper."

She smiled at the man even if it did break her heart. "Good. I'm sure the trapper's family needed the hide and bones."

He chuckled into his cup. "The procurement, processing, and redistribution of dragon parts are not authorized for those below the aristocracy as it's considered to be, how shall I say, nobler than the freemen or Yeoman." Uthreida lowered her brows as she looked at him. The dragon she freed was caught by a trapper who wasn't allowed to kill it. Redistribution and aristocracy imply control of taxes. The nobles slaughtered the trapper because he wasn't allowed to touch it. Uthreida lowered her eyes. This land is a backwater of control and not at all for the safety of the people.

"What I find interesting, Lady Hunter," Duke Gaspard's tone was laced with condensation as he looked at her from over the rim of his cup, "is, according to rumor, you moved without a party in the hunt. Without horse. With only an axe and sword. Were you not taught proper hunting rituals in Ferelden?"

Uthreida had to clench her jaw so as not to cut him down.

"Grand Duke," Cullen spoke up, "as someone who has oversaught two of Lady Uthreida's four sanctioned hunts, I can assure you that she is efficient and analytical in her dealings with the dragons. Her quandary is given the dignity and respect that is deserving of their station. While not as ritualistic as is in accordance with Orlesian Forestry Laws, her baying and unmaking of the beasts have proven to be effective and honorable. Lady Uthreida's bravery and diligence in her quarry with little to no assistance will not be questioned."

Uthreida dropped her eyes and tried to fight the smile on her lips as he stood up for her. Blatantly. His tone held an authority even against the Chevalier Duke.

The Duke turned his attention to Cullen. "Shall not be questioned, Commander." Gaspard chuckled. "You would prefer efficiency over tradition?"

Cullen arched an annoyed brow at the Duke. "Tradition without modernization or necessity makes for incompetence, Grand Duke." His tone was dry as he spoke.

Uthreida noticed some of the nobles drink deeply and backed away while others hid their smiles behind their hands. Was he referring to Gaspard's plans of invasion?

The Duke smirked. "Tradition inspires unity."

"Until it inspires war." Uthreida retorted, thinking of how much Ulfric traditionally hated the elves. How much the nations traditionally distrusted one another. If Cullen was fighting him, so was she.

"All the same." Gaspard waved a hand. "Traditionally, dragon hunts are completed as a team. And you do not-"

"You're welcome to join me." She interrupted with a smile. "I hear Orlais has several dragons. And seeing as how I cannot hunt or harvest without the consent of the court, I wonder how well your soldiers would do in a field against such a dragon. Will you not ride beside me, Grand Duke, to bring them down? So that your taxes may be met?"

He gave a joyless laugh then looked at Cullen. "She has quite the tongue. You Fereldens like your women loud and brazen it seems." Cullen's arm went from his front to the small of her back to keep her close. "I'm reminded of a story. Emperor Florian once said that when the Therin blood was lined on the pyre, the self-proclaimed Queen Moria cursed and howled like a wolf." He gave a dark chuckle. His eyes turned to Uthreida. "Or a whore, I can't remember. I'm curious, which will you be?"

Uthreida only smiled even as Cullen's fingers dug in. "Loud and defiant to the end."

Movement caught her eye as several of the patrons bowed and stood aside. Gaspard turned and blocked her view. He bowed low and so did Cullen. Uthreida took the cue and bowed.

"Gaspard" King Alistair stated with a dark tone. His face was long as he looked the man down.

The Duke stood at his name. "Alistair, its been too long."

"Far too short if you ask me." His quick retort caused the man to scoff at the King. "Burned down any good Ferelden villages recently?"

The Duke's jaw slacked. "No, your Maj-"

"Gooood. Let's keep it that way. How's the war? Failing? What a shame. Dismissed."

"King Alistair," the Duke started but was rewarded with an annoyed look by the king.

"Please" he stated with a dead tone, "what's your title again? I ask" he smirked, "because I have a good quip for what you're about to say." The Duke remained silent but had a pained polite smirk on his face. He gave a quick brow and turned. Uthreida heard him mutter curses under his breath as he left. The other nobles started to back away from the King and find interesting conversations elsewhere.

Cullen started to pull on her belt but Alistair smiled at her. "Lady Uthreida. Always a pleasure. Commander." Both bowed to the king again. The king leaned towards Cullen. "I will pay whatever price you demand to get me out of here." His tone heavy with impatience and underpinned with something else.

Cullen's eyes shifted to the room carefully. "Are you in danger?" He asked quietly, his lips barely moving.

"No, I just don't particularly want to be here." Uthreida stifled the snort as best she could. "I've been trapped here for three days. I want to go home. And my advisors are all 'but your majesty', ugh." He flicked his wrist indifferently.

Cullen searched the king quickly but sighed. "I'm sorry, your majesty. The Inquisition is here to oversight the peace negotiations. We can't leave until peace is achieved in Orlais."

Alistair arched a knowing brow at Cullen. "Yes, I know exactly what you're saying. 'Achieving peace in the kingdom.' Yes yes. How noble and valiant it must be to crown the next emperor...ess." His jeering tone light ring the mood. "So how will 'peace' be achieved?"

Cullen licked his bottom lip, his hand tightening on her hip again. "I can't answer that, your majesty. The final decision will be based on what would be best for the people."

The king shot a skeptical look. Something of personal wisdom crossed his eyes. "Right." His eyes turned to Uthreida. "My lady, it would appear that I have been called to Empress Celene, whose apparently doing fuck all during these peace talks, and I'd like to formally introduce the two of you." He held a hand to her with a slight bow. Cullen's hand tightened in her skirting even as he kept his face neutral. Alistair's eyes followed hers as he looked at Cullen. "I promise to keep her safe and to keep my hands to myself." He stated with a joking smile. But Cullen's fist tightened behind her. For a moment, Uthreida was ready to stand between Cullen and King. She took a breath to turn him down, but Cullen gently pushed her forward. Releasing her. Holding his hands behind his back.

Her eyes glossed the room and saw the wolves waiting to strike again. Uthreida held a hand to the back of Cullen's arms. She cast heroism quickly and her mana was severed by a squinted eye of Cullen. Who then looked away with a deep breath. A confused but knowing look placed at her.

She passed the plate to him and ate the cherry tart quickly with a smile. Alistair took her hand and placed it under the crook of his own arm. He gave a thankful look to Cullen who was looking at her with dark emotion.

Alistair took a few steps before leaning into her. "So, you and him, eh? Married? After a few weeks?"

She looked at the King in question. How would he know about that? It's not a secret in the Inquisition, but neither are well known enough to-

He has spies in the Inquisition. That's the only way he'd know. Alistair looked at her with a calming smile. He doesn't trust the Inquisition either.

"How is the marriage to a Templar?"

"Ex Templar." She corrected as they turned the ballroom. She looked at him knowing and he smirked knowing his own history. He gave a quick smirk and looked ahead. "Mind your manners. And mind your tongue. We're both here under Celene's invitation. I, to show National favor, and you for future economic trade. We're both expected to be on Celene's side should Gaspard do something…outrageous."

Uthreida took a breath. Celene is showing favor to the court by having backing from Ferelden and a new trade partner if she retains the throne. She had to be nice. Oh, that explains why the Duke was trying to put her down. To show she wasn't worthy of fear and to discredit her as a valued reason to back Celene. By discrediting her, he could discredit Skyrim. By discrediting her views on their traditions would show she isn't a stable trading partner.

The woman in blue stood to meet King Alistair and bowed. The two of them bowed to her in turn.

"King Alistair," she said softly, "is this the dragon slayer I have heard of?"

"Yes," he unhooked her hand from his arm to present. "Empress Celene, this is Lady Uthreida Storm Blade. She is an envoy from Skyrim. A land across the sea and seeks trade with Ferelden."

The Empress gave a smile but a woman behind her scoffed. "Across the sea?" A smoky voice said. A woman with dark hair and a dark dress appeared behind the Empress with a skeptical smirk. Her bodice was cut short and had yellow eyes. Uthreida lowered her brows slightly. Mage. With raven feathers on her shoulder. Hagraven. At court? She swallowed back the urge to grab her blade. "There is nothing across the sea." The woman stated softly with a chuckle. "Alistair, this woman has taken you as a fool. Again."

"Morgan." He stated annoyed. "It's so nice to see you out of your swamp."

Yep. That's a hagraven. Using flesh or illusion magic to hide her true shape.

"Please" Celene held a hand between them but chuckled. "Lady Morgan, that'll be all." The woman looked at Uthreida again but bowed to the Empress. Uthreida watched her leave. Her mind was taken back to the Foresworn, Briarhearts, and their formidable hags. "Please lady, join us." The Empress waved a hand to a couch. Uthreida moved and sat on the same couch as the king who sat with an ankle over his knee. "King Alistair was telling me of the dealings he has with your country. The trade agreements. I was wondering if Orlais would be inclined to receive such welcomed trade as well."

Straight to the point. "Skyrim would be delighted to offer our hand in trade. We are kind to our friends and loyal to our partners. But, our loyalty cannot be bought, Empress. It is earned. Because of this, we are usually hesitant to begin trade with outsiders." She gave a slight chuckle. "I do not know much of this land, but our backing is already with Ferelden. And those who choose war with Ferelden, choose war with Skyrim."

She smiled at Uthreida. "Orlais and Ferelden have been allies for forty years, and -"

"Uneasy allies for forty years." Uthreida corrected.

Alistair smirked but his eyes held a warning. "I believe what she means is, the inevitable of war between nations is always a threat. And at times, alliances must move and adjust with it." He smirked. "In the last ten years, I believe we have grown closer as...friends...as neighboring countries. We have increased trade, education, history. It does wound me to see Orlais fall to civil war. Even after our own civil war. After the Blight, Orlais offered assistance to us. And I wish to return the favor. So that we may strengthen our alliance. Together."

Uthreida watched the Empress smile but it never reached her eyes even behind her mask. Uthreida smiled as well, just offering the military of Skyrim to the petty squabbles of Orlais because they are allies with Ferelden. Even if Orlais had nothing to offer.

"If I may ask," Celene said partly, "where is your land?"

Uthreida took a breath, not wanting to answer. "Now now," Alistair joked, "you know she can't answer that. The maps must first be approved by the King before the trade can even begin."

A loud booming bell sounded in the hall and others looked around.

The Empress watched her with a quirked brow. "Tell me, what does Skyrim have to offer that others do not?"

Uthreida smiled. "It depends on what you need. Whatever you need, we can find it. I have noticed that while our lands may be similar, there are many things here that are not in my home. And many things in my home that are not here." She smiled again to the Empress. "If I may make a suggestion, as far as I know, my King has yet to approve of the trade dealings between Skyrim and Ferelden. It would be wiser to see what Ferelden receives and build a bill of landing off of that. Skyrim has many spices and goods, as well as furs and ore. I would suggest waiting and see how my king responds first before moving forward."

A second bell tolled and she looked around to find it.

Alistair stood slowly. "Such as they are." He offered a warm smile to the empress. "If it's alright with you, I grow tired to Gaspard's claims of rightful rule and divine providence. I fear the war may spill over if he says it one more time. Mostly due to my own fault. So, I shall take my leave." He held a hand to her. The Empress slipped her hand into his and King Alistair kissed her knuckle. "You have Fereldens backing, Empress." He stood taller and adjusted his belts. "And don't let her get the better of you." He looked over the ballroom and adjusted his gloves. "We all know what she wants. And, for a time, Ferelden held elves with a position in court. Only to have the nobles burn down the Alienage. Twice. It's progress. But now no elf wants the position in fear of more burnings." He looked at her with solemn eyes. "I'd like to offer sanctuary in Ferelden, given everything you've done, if this falls out. But, I think we both know Gaspard will kill you before you reach the border."

The Empress only smiled politely at him and nodded.

"Best of luck, old friend," Alistair said to her, his hand reaching for Uthreida as he took her hand into his arm again. He turned them to take the other side of the ballroom as the dark-haired woman passed them.

"Fool."

"Hag." Alistair turned and brought Uthreida with him. "Morgan." The woman stopped and looked at him with an exhausting expression. "It just occurred to me. Just" he waved a vague hand to a balcony, "turn him into a toad."

The woman gave a forced laugh at the king and Uthreida placed her hand on the pommel of her weapon. "I had forgotten how much of a simpleton you are, Alistair. So glad to see some things never change. Like excommunicating all mages in your kingdom."

"That ran to the Inquisition."

Both were smiling viscerally at one another. Uthreida arched a confused brow. "I'm just going to assume you know each other."

The woman looked at her and cut her eyes to Alistair. There was a pause between the two of them. "Thank you. I suppose you were useful tonight."

"No problem," Alistair stated with the same reservation. "If she does fall, we're the first four they're going to look at." His chin pointed to the Empress slowly. "I've made my points as loud as I can. Here's hoping the Council of Heralds will listen."

She waved a hand. "Gaspard has either threatened or blackmailed them. They know which hand feeds them."

He made a look of disappointment. "Yea? And never feed a starving marbari with your bare hands."

Uthreida looked between them having no idea of what was going on. She felt like a child watching her parents have an argument that was closer to her age than the Emperor or Empress. Uthreida cut her eyes across the ballroom and saw the wolves were attacking Cullen again but held up a better reserve than he did before. His eyes flicked to her. He shot a curious look and she sheepishly looked at the King who was still holding her hand on his arm. He seemed to smirk at her plight until he jumped and sneered at a man that got behind him.

"My apologies. Uthreida" Alistair held a hand to her for introductions. "This is Morgan. The, what's that ridiculous title again, occult advisor to the Empress?"

Morgan pursed her lips at him in annoyance while Uthreida was confused. "I thought that was Lady Vivienne's role in the Empire."

Morgan looked her over, her yellow eyes taking in Uthreida making her grip her weapon tighter. "That role was appointed to her. Once. But Lady Vivienne is more politician than a mage. She is a mage that was bred and raised in captivity of the Chantry. I, however, am not tied down by such biased notions."

Uthreida smiled at her. Knowing that Hagravens conduct pacts with Deadra for their power which alone is the exact reason they're not allowed in court. If she's the court wizard, this kingdom is so fucked. Her eyes flicked to the feathers on the woman's shoulder again and smiled.

"Tis something you wish to say?" Uthreida bit her lips again to keep silent. "Or does my being an apostate sicken you?" Uthreida took a breath to keep silent. She opened her free hand and called forth ice only to have the King sever her magic with a cautious eye to the room. "You are a mage." Lady Morgan said with a form of reverence.

Alistair chuckled lowly in his chest. "We'll be on our way. Good evening." Alistair turned them again and walked towards the doors back to the vestibule.

Uthreida looked over her shoulder at Cullen who watched them. "Uh," she assumed he would drop her off where he found her.

"I have a favor to ask."

She flicked a look back to Cullen as he exited them from the ballroom. She gave a nod to the King. "You have but to ask, my King."

He dipped his head to hers. "It would appear you and I have made for some interesting rumors in court. Ferelden court, that is."

She arched a confused brow at him. "Have we?"

He gave a low chuckle. "Yes. My admirers have all but ceased thanks to you."

"You're welcome?" she offered awkwardly.

Alistair gave another smile, leading her out into the side hall. "Some of the women in the castle are already planning our wedding."

Utherida gave a smirk, realizing what he was saying. "Ugh, I hope they're not thinking blue."

He gave a laugh that sounded like honey down a sore throat. "I'm afraid so. They look forward to when your one year is up with your current husband."

Uthreida lowered her brows at him. She didn't understand his need to define the time frame. Is that how long she has with the Inquisition or-

He looked down at her quizzically. "Did he not tell you?"

She jut her jaw slightly with a blushing smile. "Inform me of what?" What did her dearest husband fail to mention?

The king gave a soft chuckle. "According to my reports, your 'husband' only undid one knot of the wedding ceremony. According to the Avvar culture, that would mean, he only has one year as your husband."

Uthreida blinked slowly at the crowd around her. She didn't know why she felt a bit of loneliness filled her heart. One year of marriage to Commander Cullen seemed like a fair trade. It seemed like that's all she could endure. And she was expecting to leave him behind for Skyrim the first chance she got once freed of her duties. But with a timetable before her, it seemed…she wasn't sure. Did he know they only had one year? Was he counting on that? Did he want that? Being married for one year is that why he agreed to it.\?

But wait, if they're married for one year, and the Avvar knew that if he knew that, what would happen after the one-year mark? Is she no longer protected by the marriage? And if they only had one year, and according to the king's reports, his court was apparently planning her next ceremony at the end of the year, provided she did marry him. Even though he didn't-

Wait, is this him trying? Trying to woo her? Based on what? The fact he's a king?

"The favor is to have us be seen together all night. Seeing as how you were so kind as to have Liliana inform me of an assassination plot, I feel as though I too may be a target. Plus, you are the only one here who has a weapon-" he gave a one-shouldered shrug that offered her a time to reject the favor, but seeing who it was from, didn't have that choice.

"It's alright, your grace. I'm here. I'll protect you." She gave a condescending smile that he met.

"Good. I can't think of anyone better." They passed a few nobles who Uthreida felt their eyes on them. "I've sent word back with your men that Ferelden would be delighted to engage in trade. Along with an apology for your absence." He side-eyed the nobles and realized the game he was playing. He was still on about the 'trade.'

"I'm sure King Ulfric will understand. Politics being what they are."

Alistair gave a grin. "Yes, his latest letter seemed, delighted. If I can say that about him."

Utherida gave a polite smile at him. "You would be right to make that conclusion. After the war, the Shatter-Shields have come into some harsh times and will need resupply soon as Windhelm has lost their suppliers within the Empire."

"So," He started as they made their way up the stairs away from prying ears.

Uthreida held up a hand to stop him. "Majesty, I'm sorry, but" she took a cooling breath, "I don't know if I can perpetuate this lie with you." He offered a comical boyish smirk. Her eyes looked back to the ballroom where Cullen was. "I don't know if I can be seen with you all night, alone, with my husband alone in the other room. Unaware of my intentions. Or yours. And you did promise to keep your hands to yourself." She offered a kind smile.

He met it with a head bowed. "That's very kind of you."

A guilty heat filled her core as she looked at the king. "I am aware of how perception works, your majesty. Having me with you may drive away suitors, for you, but I do have a very present responsibility and prior commitments. I guess."

"I heard the library in Halamshiral has the largest collection of books this side of Tiventer. Care to…peruse the library with me?"

She dropped her jaw, slightly annoyed. Knowing she was supposed to be flirting with him to keep whispers going, and hearing the seductive tone in his voice, she placed a hand over her heart. "I just said I was married and that he's right over there and you tempt me with information. What kind of woman do you take me for, my king?" She gave a smile to show she was willing to play, even if her tone was starting to scathe.

Alistair smirked, leaning into her ear, and whispered softly, "The kind that wants to see the off-limits, off the books, ancient tomes that should have been burned centuries ago. Books so old, they might hold a map of the ancient world. Or at least clues to find what we're looking for."

His amber eyes were lit with mischief as was his smile. Uthreida looked away with a blushing smile to keep the nobles at bay. Cullen did mention that she would need something more concrete than a book over the star map that she couldn't prove. That she would need some information that came from somewhere other than a dragon to confirm. Somewhere other than a vague connection of the Avvar. If the king was with her when he found said map or mention of Tamriel, something she could confirm, it would give him reason to believe her. "You know the way to the heart of a woman."

"Just mages, I'm afraid."

She licked her lips in heavy flirtation. "How can I deny such a simple pleasure?" He offered a wink. "But, I do find myself in an odd situation." He tilted his head slightly as she took a physical step back. "My husband will notice my absence as well as yours." She took a deep breath. 'The man can hold a grudge. I would rather not be on that end of his ire seeing as how it took me this long to be on his better graces. And seeing as how he is Ferelden, he is protected by the promise I gave you to not harm your people."

Alistair crossed his arms over his chest. "You're very loyal to a man that tricked you into marriage."

"We both were tricked. Do not think it is one-sided."

"Then why show such devotion when the reality-"

"It is the perception, your majesty." She stated quickly. "One you are willing to use to your advantage right now. You would paint him as a cuckold and me as a crown chaser. Derogating our integrity and character by doing this." She took a breath and a step back. "I want nothing more than to prove to you with hard facts that Tamriel exists. To ensure that your boats are set to the seas and to bring my people out of starvation. To start a new era of trade between our lost continents. But I," she clenched her jaw, her eyes going back to the area they just came from. "Even if this a perceived situation, I still owe him a perceived commitment."

"Then allow me to paint a very real picture for you." He said, taking a step closer to her. "Your husband willingly gave you to me. He's aware of the situation. I just told the Empress that I was leaving. And without you at my side, I will not go into that library to find the hard evidence you desire. I will leave, as I said I would. So," he canted his head slightly, "won't you join me? Give me a reason to stay."

She forced the small smile on her lips for the passing nobles. Everything she was doing was to build trust with the king. So he could help her get home. She had her map, she didn't need him for it. But she needed his trade. His goods. His gold. For her people. She needed more information about this land. She needed, Stendarr's Hammer, she had to do this without Cullen's consent. And he will inevitability blame her for this. She grit her teeth as Cullen's voice came back to her. If she denied him, she invalidated her people. Driving the truth that her people didn't exist and will fall without Ferelden trade. She had to submit and meet halfway.

She took a deep breath. "I would be a fool to deny such an opportunity. The oldest texts would prove most valuable to me given the situation."

King Alistair smiled and retook her hand in his. He led her up the rest of the stairs to a door, guarded by a soldier in gold, silver, and blue armor. Alistair took a step forward. "We'd like to see the library. Can you direct us?"

"Library's off-limits, sir."

Alistair tilted his head. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm King Alistair of Ferelden. First of his name, son of-"

"Empress Celene has deemed this area off-limits to all party guests. I'm sorry, your majesty, but I'll need approval to let you through."

Alistair humphed. "And who do I speak to for that?"

"Captain of the Guard, your grace." The Soldier gave a nod at Alistair and turned his head away as if the conversation was over.

Uthreida placed a hand on Alistair's shoulder. If she's going to do this, let's do this. "If I may." The Soldier turned to look at her, seeing her attire, gave a board look. "Gol Hah" she whispered to the soldier. His eyes seemed to glaze over, his posture weakening. "Let us pass, and no one else."

The soldier took two steps to the right, opening the door for them. Uthreida looked at Alistair, who seemed to take a step back from her. She held a hand out to him, kindly. He looked around them silently. He seemed to have reason to keep up the charade and took her hand. That's right, your majesty. Submit. "When this door shuts, you are released of control," Uthreida stated to the soldier who nodded his head slowly. Uthreida quickly pulled Alistair into the hallway and shut the door silently.

Uthreida looked at Alistair again, gaging his reactions. "No blood."

"I know." He took a deep breath and shook his head. "But still, you were able to control his mind."

She gave an apology nod. "Aye." Stepping away from the door and down the hall to their destination. "It is not a skill I like to use. But given the circumstances-" Uthreida walked past him, making her way past suits of armor and painting.

"But still willing to use it to get into an off-limits library."

Her eyes going to the movements of colors, and to the portraits of former Emperors, his arm still wrapped around hers. Her heart heavy with the truth of his words. "You tempt me, starving for information, with an apple, then deny me a bite because the situation didn't suit your preferences?" He gave a skeptical look as if her answer didn't suffice her actions. She looked away from him in arrogance. "I'm growing desperate to find my home. I know it's here, I just," she took a shaky breath to calm her nerves. "I have to find it."

Alistair slowly untwined their arms with a look like he understood what she was saying. But chose to walk behind her. Awkward silence befell the two until he started making comments on paintings as they passed. He was hesitant and lying about the paintings, but she was more concerned with his fear of her. Her brother, in a way. Blood kin. "Your majesty," she finally said, trying to fill the emotional void and silence his passive conversation "you know I would never hurt or abuse you, aye?"

He looked at her. Truly looked at her. With a sigh, his eyes were distant as he stepped closer to her. "Am I under your control?" He whispered, the fear on his face as he spoke.

Uthreida felt the slight betrayal but understood where he was coming from. As an ex Templar, he is supposed to hate magic. As a King, he moves the country. As a dragon born, chains do not come easily. She gave a reassuring smile. "If you can ask such a question, the answer is obvious. I may be angered from your ploy, but no." She took the step towards his, holding his empty hand in hers softly. "No, my king. You are free."

He gave a single nod at her, pulling his hand from her gently. "Thank you." He looked her over again, weighing if this was the best idea or the worst he's ever had. She took a step away from him to let him gauge his own reaction. He gave a reassuring smile, tilting his head. "I believe the library is over here"

He turned down a corridor and led her into a darkened room. Uthreida called forth fire to her hand and saw shelves of books around her. She shook her head. "Where do we begin?"

Movement in the left caught their attention. Alistair grabbed her by the other hand and dragged her over to the side. Utherida took the clue, crouched, and headed up the stairs. She felt agitation rise in her throat when he stepped just as loudly in here as he did in the ballroom.

She pulled him to a bookshelf and saw the light of the moon. If she ran, she would be seen. She needed darkness. She turned in, following the casings until someplace to hide became possible. Whoever was after them, listened closely and was following them.

Damn King was breathing heavily, and dragging his feet. Uthreida wanted to knock him unconscious and carry him, knowing it would be quicker and silent. Finally finding a break in the cases, she pushed the king in first and followed. Alistair had his back to the connection, kneeling, and Uthreida kneeled before him. Her back to the room, facing the king. She looked over at him, putting her finger to her lips. He gave a nod and remained silent.

Uthreida looked over her shoulder and listened to the footsteps following them. They seemed to pass, and she heard a second set. Shit. Guards. If she killed them, people will know she was in here as she was the only one at the ball who had a weapon here.

Metal on metal caught her attention. A swordfight had broken out. The footsteps that were following, ran past again, and down the stairs she just traversed. She looked at Alistair looking for answers. He only shook his head, unaware of what was going on as well.

Uthreida turned her attention back to the spar. She couldn't see anything. If she used the detect life shout, she could give away their position. She left herself blind. But it sounded like three on one. Then two. Then one. The victor then ran to the center of the room, and up the stairs on the far side.

In the moonlight from the window, the person wore a jacquard outfit. Then leaped to the balcony below. Uthreida looked to Alistair who shrugged his shoulders, a question on his face. She mimicked the response, not having an answer.

They waited for a moment before exiting the case. Uthreida helped the King stand who blamed the blight on his bad knees. She offered a smirk. "So, where are these books?"

Alistair walked to the railing to get his bearings. "Not a clue." He led her further into the library, and into the middle section. Four cases lined the area, and Uthreida could only see good binding and fresh leather on the jackets.

"What are we looking for?" she whispered to him.

"A leaver?" he whispered back. "It should be easy to get to, yet hidden."

They spent the better part of an hour, pulling each book off the shelf to look for the said lever. Until finally, the sound of sliding stones caught their attention. Alistair gave a smile, knowing he was the one who found it. He looked at the book and smirked. "Histories Best Not Mentioned by Sister Mudulea" he made an approving sound and stood next to her. "Shall we?" They followed the sound to the rear of the library and found the door had opened. Alistair was the first to enter and pulled her with him. She looked around and saw a working area that might belong to the Empress. A single light source in the room was an odd green light.

Her heart caught in her throat. Green fire. Like she had seen in Apocrypha. Gods, why is this here? Alistair stepped towards it with a torch ready. She held his arm back. "What are you doing?"

He looked confused for a moment. "We need the vail fire."

"The…what?"

He gave a soft chuckle. "Trust me." And continued his approach. Uthreida held her breath as he lit a small torch in his hands. He carried it with him back into the library. Uthreida followed, her eyes on the fire in his hands and the sickening bile in her throat at the idea that he was just fine carrying a piece of Apocrypha around with him like it was nothing. What is wrong with this man? Does he not know-?

No. No, he doesn't. Because he doesn't know of the Deadra. Or their machinations.

"Let's see," He looked at the two column of three rows of lions. "These urns are of previous Emperors. So, in order, it must be," Uthreida watched him as he touched the green fire to the urn. Above it gave off an eerie purple flame. She swallowed back the odd coloring that was often associated with Vaermina's realm. These people are closer than they realize. And he did it again. Uthreida clenched her teeth, her hand on her pommel, waiting for a lurker or a horde of spiders to attack. He lit the sixth urn and the stone moved again. Alistair gave a happy chuckle. "Well, thank the Maker that worked out." Uthreida gave a curious look to the stone stairs that delved down. Alistair took the first step in. Uthreida took a breath. At the dark staircase that went down. For information, for Skyrim. She called fire to her hand, and Alistair instantly snuffed it out. "It smells like Sulphur in here. You bring in fire, this room could explode, causing a really embarrassing situation that will follow, I'm sure."

Uthreida gave a nod, and instead called Stendarr's light instead. Alistair seemed to approve of the light source, and both entered the secret vault. It was a decent area that was filled with urns, covered furniture, and three bookshelves lined the corners. In the middle was a table with an open book. Uthreida saw her common language written on it. She could read it. But the King arched a brow. "It's an ancient dialect. I'd need a scholar to see it."

Uthreida felt a tinge of fear rise in her throat. He was afraid of her. She didn't need to give him more reason. She clenched her jaw and vowed to not tell him of her ability to read any language. "We should look for maps, right?"

Alistair nodded. "Right." He looked up at the door and the darkness. "We shouldn't stay here long. Someone is bound to miss us at the party, and I don't want a roving guard to catch us in here."

Uthreida gave a nod and turned to the three bookshelves. These books were well preserved given location and time. Alistair seemed to have a better idea of what they were looking for as he quickly moved his hand over the blackened leather tomes, reading over titles. The shelves were only half full, but it still made for long work. Uthreida picked up books, flipping for maps and images. One caught her attention. A blade. A curved blade like the Yokunda. She flipped further and found it was a book on smiting. Damascus. She arched a brow. That's a word she hasn't heard of in a long time. Her uncle's voice coming to her as a memory, speaking of an ancient technique of heating and forging the steel that was lost when Yokunda fell. Ancient weapons of power and strength.

"Find something?" Alistair mused quietly, flipping through his own tome.

She put it back on the shelf. "Not really." She whispered back, picking up a new book, flipping through.

They searched the books and didn't find any maps that would indicate anything in Tamriel. The maps they found were of Thedas. Uthreida gave a huff at the failed mission.

"I'm sorry." King Alistair stated, his voice ringing with true sorrow.

"It's fine. Between the ancient dialects and lack of pictures, it makes sense." Their attention turned back to the book on the table. Uthreida flipped through quickly. She saw something. She flipped back and saw the word Atmora. She gave an excited breath. "This one. This is it."

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Of course it is." He said dryly. Without a second thought, then placed it in the waistband of his trousers at his back, readjusting his jerkin. He gave her a look telling her it was time to go. She hesitated. She turned back to the shelf, picking up the smiting book, and placed it in the same location on herself as the king, hiding it behind her sash. He gave a nod and led her out of the vault.

Uthreida shut off the beacon as she exited, and both tried to seal the door silently. It made a latching noise and both shared a look of 'good enough.'

They walked back down the corridor they arrived in. Uthreida mentioned that his coat was askew with some dust staining his shoulders but he only waved it off. "Adds to the rumors." He waggled a brow at her, and she smiled, unwillingly at him.

"Halt." Both turned to look behind them. A castle guard had stopped them. Alistair took her hand behind him and smiled. "Several apologies. We were just looking for the privy."

"This area is off-limits."

Alistair lowered his brows. "Are you sure? There was no one guarding the door? And my lady…well." He threw an indifferent hand at the guard who only arched a brow.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."

"Of course. This way? I always get so confused here." Alistair gave a charming smile, allowing the guard to escort them out.

The door opened and the guard at the door was surprised to see them. Uthreida gave a bashful smile at the men, while Alistair beamed. "Evening gentlemen." Alistair took her by the arm again, down the stairs. "Well, we are sure to set tongues waggling now."

"Oh, you're right" Utherida played along, "does my hair look alright?" She placed a hand to it, ensuring everyone who was looking at them, saw what they wanted them to see.

Alistair radiated. "It looks lovely." He led her to the main floor, and people were whispering of things that had occurred since their absence. "Oh, dear, it looks like we missed the party," Alistair said softly, though the sarcasm couldn't be missed.

Utherida shook her head. "Shame, really."

Alistair gave a flirtatious look at her and stood before her. "Seeing as how others are leaving, I think I'll take this opportunity to do the same. Until we meet again, Lady Utherida." He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She could only imagine they smelled of that vault.

She gave a bashful smile at his antics. "Until then, my king." She gave a slight bow at him, her eyes on his. He gave a charming half-smile, and took two steps away from her before turning around.

She gave an appreciative smile at the man, already hearing the whispers of the nobles about her and the King. She took a glass as a waiter passed, to wet her mouth as she made her way to find someone she knew to ask about what happened. Josephine seemed grossed in conversation and decided to let her be.

On the balcony, Cullen seemed to pry himself away from would-be suitors. He was bent over the railing as if observing something. Utherida's smile slowly dropped. He would know. He should know what really happened. Uthreida approached cautiously. "We're about wrapped up here. I've sent word to the Soldiers to…you're not Royoc."

Utherida gave an apological smirk. "Sorry. But feel free to continue." He retook his position overlooking the area, following his soldier's movements. "So, what happened?"

He lowered his head in a chuckle. "What happened?" He said to himself. Cullen stood up, his hands on the railings. "Royoc convinced both Celene and Gaspard to co-rule Orlais." He gave an approving smirk at her. Utherida looked disappointed but took a drink to remain silent. The only thing Royoc did was delay the Civil War. It was only a matter of time before one of them was poisoned by the other. Until then, they had what they came for. Success, she supposed. For now. Though, the instability between the couple would undoubtedly lead to instability in the nation. Like when Talos was suspected of killing his co-ruler, Cuhlecain. Creating rumors that Talos is the one that organized the assassination himself. "Where were you?" Utherida looked up at him to see a serious and annoyed expression on his face. "I ask because you asked, meaning you didn't see. Where were you?"

Utherida swirled the wine in her glass looking for a soft truth. "I was with King Alistair." Knowing the harshness that was going to follow as the perception he would take.

He arched a brow. "All night?" Utherida felt a guilty smile spread across her face. "What were you two doing?"

She bit her lips, trying to find a way out. His tone was serious, and the questions were direct. "Dancing." Around the guards, she added mentally.

"Dancing." He arched a knowing brow, but the crease between his brows deepened in annoyance. "I'm guessing it wasn't on the ballroom floor." She looked away in guilt, with a grimace on her face. Realizing far too late that her perception of a perceptive betrayal only further solidified his perception of her betrayal. "So, where were you?"

Utherida swirled her wine again before taking a deep drink. "In the library." She shouldn't feel guilty about this. Their marriage is in name only. There's no…there's nothing. There's no physical commitment between them. So why was she ready to apologize with a closing throat? Why couldn't she meet his eyes?

Cullen gave a dismissive scoff. "Dancing, in a darkened library, with a King." He gave a condescending nod. "As you say."

Utherida felt embarrassment rise in her cheeks at the idea of it. She knew this was going to happen. She didn't know why she was surprised at his interpretation of the night's events. She leaned her rear against the railing. "Do you want the truth, or do you want your anger?" She asked taking another drink.

"Does it matter?" he asked tersely, turning away from her. His fisted hands leaned against the railing of the balcony again.

Uthreida noticed his stiff shoulders as he hunched. His dark eyes going over the field before them. Watching something move in the darkness. She took a cleansing, guilt-ridden, breath. "I wanted to tell you," she confessed softly, "but I would've lost my opportunity."

He scoffed again with a shake of his head. "Couldn't have that, now can we? After all, it's not every day your time is propositioned by a king." His golden eyes flicked to her in anger before looking away again. His tone cut her deeper than she cared to admit.

She looked him over and smirked. "Your jealousy is unbecoming, Cullen." She stated flatly as she swirled her drink. Resorting to her anger was juvenile, she knew. She kept her eyes on the door to the ballroom but felt him turn to look at her with a heated expression.

"No," he seethed, "I suppose I should be alighted by the fact that a king fancies my wife." She looked him over, no longer caring who saw what they did. "Who abandoned me to dance with said king." He hissed with clenched teeth.

She lowered her chin at him. He wasn't coming out of his anger soon. She sniffled at the cold wind and tried to placate him knowing what thought and assure him that the perception meant nothing. "Cullen, those who know of our marriage, don't care. And those that care, don't know of our marriage." She quickly jutted her chin to the ballroom to indicate that the nobles of Orlais fell into the former category.

He turned to look at her. His full broad chest turned towards her. But he was silent as he looked down at her. She met his pride with her own. But his eyes. It wasn't annoyance for leaving him alone with the wolves. His jaw wasn't clenched in her disobedience of his orders. He was embarrassed and ashamed. Her eyes widened at his silent confession. He told the nobles they were married. Those that cared know now. And she just portrayed him as a cuckold. To the entire court of Orlais. A commander of a great army, who can't even control his wife. What she thought would be a small misunderstanding between the two of them just became a national scandal. By Mara, his clenched hands showed he believed the King went back on his word. Uthreida lowered her brows in pain as she looked at him. He believed she…

Uthreida felt the air leave her lungs quickly and took half a step back. He thinks she actually did fornicate with the king. She looked away embarrassed. Hurt that he would question her integrity.

She sniffed at his reveal. Her actions were justified and yielded information for the king to start trade with Ulfric. Cullen looked back over the darkness, his hands fisting again in their silence. Even if she told him what happened, would he listen? Or would it be the begging pleads of a woman who claimed to never do it again? Would he care? Would he bother? Why did it bother her? She looked out over the dark field with him. None of it mattered. She clenched her jaw. Not willing, not allowing him to see her torn like this. "One knot." She said softly. "One year." Cullen looked at her with annoyance and she looked away. "You have eight more months of me, then you're free." A truth he kept hidden from her. A truth she knew now.

He looked away again. His eyes dropping to his feet as he was silent. A smirk curling on his lips but it never reached his eyes. It was dark. And he shook his head at something. "Just another stone for you to step on as you plan your next steps for ascension." Uthreida licked her lips. He was accurate, but the wrong intention. "We'll discuss this at Skyhold." He stated to end the conversation.

Utherida looked away from him in guilt to notice a noble looking suggestively at the Commander. Licking his lips. Utherida arched a brow. She had a chance to fix this. "You should ask me to dance." She whispered, not looking at him or the noble.

Cullen arched a brow. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Your feet must be exhausted from all that-"

"There's a noble checking out your arse. Maybe you should look like you're preoccupied with someone else before you storm off in anger."

He turned his body to face her, "If you think for a moment I'm leaving you alone, here, again, you had better reassess the situation."

Utherida looked up and felt her core temperature rise. Something in his intense eyes seemed almost soft even as his tone was terse. She smirked at the notion of it. "Fine. Then you had better do something that would prevent said noble from coming over here to speak to you. We both know you're in no mood for their trivialities and you snapping at one would only anger Lady Josephine."

With a defeated sigh, he took two steps from the railing. "Lady Storm-Bringer," he knelt at the waist, his hand extended to her, "may I have this dance?" His tone was cold as he kept his eyes on the stone.

A part of her wanted to deny him. To keep playing their safe game of cat and mouse. To keep him at a distance. But another part wanted to apologize. Wanted to set this right. Uthreida placed a hand on his chest to keep from knocking into him. He arched a brow, moving his hand to the small of her back. She sidestepped to place her wine glass on the ledge of the railing. His other hand raising to move with the music. Utherida moved her hand to his back as he started to move. Her eyes went wide as she tried to keep up with the slow pace of his movements.

"What's he wearing?" He whispered, turning slightly.

"Green and gold striped coat, green leather boots, and a mask."

"Ahh, Compt Du Partain. He's been a thorn in my side since we arrived. Thank you." He spun her so he could look inside the building. Utherida felt his smirk as he probably saw the noble she was talking about. He was silent as he moved, listening only to the music.

Utherida stepped on his foot, and quickly gave an apology, feeling embarrassed and awkward this close to him. He only gave a soft laugh. "You know, for someone who spent all evening dancing with the King, you're really bad at this."

Utherida felt the embarrassment rise again. "And yet, you still embrace me." She countered, trying to mask her confidence as best as she could.

"Amongst other reasons." He tapped her lower back, hearing the soft thud of the tome in the waistband. She immutably looked away, caught. "Stealing books, are we?"

Utherida looked up at his humor-filled golden eyes and that damn smirk. Her throat sealed shut, and she had to look away, knowing a stupid grin was on her face, and the blush rising to her cheeks. He gave a quick spin to physically throw her off as well as mentally.

"Are you using the king to steal books?"

"The King used me to steal books. I'm the accessory." She tried to argue, but it didn't sound any better with a smile on her face.

Cullen laughed softly. "She says defiantly."

She shook her head at him. "You're being an arse."

"Me?" he stated with a low accusation, his eyes dropping over her in judgment.

She looked at him. Cullen was once again so sure of this situation, she felt comforted. She had to admit, it was intriguing to be playfully teased by the always serious bear of Skyhold. He arched a brow at her silence, still moving her to the music. He leaned into her, close enough to see her, but far enough to where nothing would happen. "You're being uncharacteristically terroritial tonight, Commander."

Utherida felt her stomach clench when she met his eyes. There was a heat to him that was both dominating and assertive. But she wasn't afraid. She realized she was getting lost in his eyes. "I'm merely waiting for you to apologize."

She took a deep breath, smelling his scent and smirk. "And how would you like me to do that?"

"A simple, I'm sorry, would suffice."

"What? No acts of grandeur required?"

He scoffed. "Like you would."

She gave a humble laugh at him. It's almost like he knew her. Uthreida licked her lips at the idea. "I did make the argument." She said softly, trying not to feel the heat of his body or his hands. "That this is exactly how you would respond and I'd have to put up with it. I knew the risks. And, I'm sorry." She looked away from him as they swayed. "I let my greed of information become my own gluttony. I should know better. I've seen what happens when it becomes too much. When the desire for knowledge consumes, to become a hunger for more." She softly shook her head as her mind went back to Miraak and Hermaeus Mora. The idea of Durnehviir, the thirst for knowledge can become your own prison.

Seeming content with the answer, he pulled away, holding her still in his arms, and stepped with the music. The time was filled with awkward silence for her as he swayed. There was a rhythm she found with him. And an uneasy sense of peace. Where is all this coming from and why is he suddenly attractive. She needed to end this. "The noble is gone."

"Still, music." He shrugged.

He pulled her closer to him. He moved so their hands were on his shoulder. His other hand placed below the small of her back. He tucked his chin to her forehead and swayed to the music with her. She felt his heat against the cold winter breeze flush to her front. His breathing was deep. The scent of oakmoss filled her and reminded her of the forests of Riften in the spring. "Did you?" He asked softly. His words almost lost in the wind. "And the king?"

Uthreida lowered her head, feeling the knives scratch her heart as they did his. She moved her hand from his shoulder so it wrapped under his arm and held his back. "No." She whispered back to him. She lifted her chin, realizing that his back was to the ballroom and no one would see him embracing her. "The king wanted to steal books that spoke of Tamriel. He said the library here held banned books. Ancient books."

She felt his chest huff in an inhale but lost the heated breath in the winter air. "He didn't touch you?"

"Not inappropriately, no."

He snorted a laugh. "And what do you consider inappropriate?" His teasing tone warmed her and caused her to smile.

"Well, if your hand moves any lower." she teased.

He hummed quickly and lowered his hand that was holding hers to his chest. She found herself giddily annoyed as he knew exactly what she was talking about, but chose wrong intentionally. He seemed to notice and chuckled softly.

A silent moment passed as the music started to crescendo. "Why did you?" He asked softer. The sound of a smile out of his voice as he swayed with her.

"He wouldn't move without me. And you suggested I find more evidence to convince him. I figured if he found something, with me, in a place I've never" She sighed. He held her hand on his chest away and lifted her. She took the cue and spun for him. He did it again. He kept her hand above them. Taking her hand and placing it at her lower back as they circled one another. "If the books existed, here, and he wanted to find them, why would I not help him? For Skyrim? For my people? For trade?"

His smile softened slightly as he pulled her closer, his hands going to her waist. "Mages and their books like moths to a flame."

He lifted her slightly off the ground to spin them again. Setting her down slowly as she clutched the fabric of his shoulders at his actions in mild surprise.

She smirked at him as he lifted her hand above her head, he took her hand to it held his at the small of his back as they circled. "Or like a Commander and history books?" He smiled at her comparison. "It's funny you should use such a simile. Back home, the Order of the Moth is actually a very astute and highly respected order who focused on philosophy and the reading of the scrolls for the emper-ah" she clutched at his shoulders again as he dipped her. Her eyes were wide at the change of gravity like she was about to fall. His light-hearted smile made her grip his shoulder tighter in fear he was going to drop her.

He chuckled again and pulled her to stand upright. Small applause sounded from the ballroom behind them. He stepped away and adjusted his jerkin. "My apologies."

She wiped her hands over the skirts as if to straighten them quickly with a look of mild annoyance at him. But he only smiled. It was soft, kind, and something she had never seen him wear before. And the look coming from him make her stomach tighten and her breathing deepen. He lifted a hand to her face.

She jerked back. Uncertain of what he was doing or what she was feeling.

He clenched his hand and brought it back to his side. He dropped his eyes, his smile, and cleared his throat. "We're about wrapped up here." He looked over the darkness of the castle and took a deep breath. He opened his mouth to say something, but when he looked at her, his golden eyes shone in the moon, taking her in. He clenched his jaw tighter as he stepped back and gave a shallow bow. He turned but stopped to look at the adjacent balcony. Her eyes followed his. She saw Josephine and Leliana watching them. With smiles. Cullen stepped off and left her on the veranda alone. She shot his back a look that required he come back and not leave her alone with them.

She smiled politely at the women as they approached. Their balcony's a few feet from one another as they spoke.

"How romantic," Liliana said with an interested smirk where Josephine held a hand over her heart, smiling from ear to ear. Uthreida sighed at the teasing. She opened her mouth to argue. "We were ready to use your estranged marriage as a means of leverage from some of the nobles."

Utherida lowered her brows at the spymaster in question. But Josephine tittered. "Judging from the Commanders following, we assumed there would be several who would want to, shall we say, gain favor, with the Commander. And with the rumors of your expected betrothal to King Alistair after trade agreements have been made, your divorce is all but finalized. But to see him dancing, Ferelden of course, there is hope for him yet in the courts."

Uthreida's heart dropped for a moment at the realization they spoke of. One knot. One year. She blinked it back quickly and smiled. "The king has made little to no indication that he is ready for a new wife as he still mourns his-"

Josephine waived it off. "He is a king and will need leverage with Skyrim for trade. Besides," she was ready to say something but her eyes strayed for a moment. "We will discuss this further in Skyhold. Yes?"

Uthreida blinked slowly. "Aye." She said softer.

Liliana gave a small chuckle. "We will need your insight to see who would make the best match for our Commander. And who would best benefit the Inquisition."

"Liliana," Josephine hissed playfully. "As I said, we can discuss our options back at Skyhold. But you did excellent tonight." She gave a bow and Liliana nodded to her. "Lady Uthreida."

Liliana's smirk frightened her more than Josephine's happy giggles as they left her on the balcony. She smiled them off. But her eyes turned back to the darkness of the night Cullen was looking over earlier.

Her hand went to her chest. Farkas ring hanging from the braided leather at her throat. His silver eyes crinkled in a smile, then in betrayal as he bled over the dirt of that cave.

Her fingers finding the outline of the hammer. Talos hammer.

One knot. One year.

Her eyes turned east as she thought of Ferelden. It wasn't the first time it was rumored she was to marry a king. It would be expected for the king to marry a strong trade partner. She was a horrible choice for a queen. But the only one this land knew. It was logical. And King Alistair wasn't bad-looking. But, she barely knew him enough to form a decent opinion of his thoughts. He seemed more playful at the rumors than believed which meant it probably wasn't going to happen.

Unless it had to.

Ulfric wouldn't allow her, the dragon born, the hero of the war, to become-

Exiled from Skyrim.

So he could take all the credit and have songs sung only to him. To strike her name from records as he was the only one to come down from high Hrothgar and cast a Thu'um. He would take the credit for slaying Alduin, she was sure.

Even if he didn't, sending her here, to allow this, would be no different than the fate of the Hero of Kvarch, or the Nerevarine. Separated from the continent to never be seen or heard from again.

She took a deep breath and looked to the sky. Even if she didn't marry the king, Cullen would be free from her in eight months. She was sure he desired his freedom over her headache. Given what she knew of Ferelden Circle, Templar life, withdrawals, and Kirkwall, he deserved some happiness. She could help, she supposed. Uthreida had a feeling that Josephine and Liliana would take him to the chapel with little information as to what was going on. With her, she could at least try to give him a life of happiness.

Her finger circled the metal band at her throat. A part of her knew she couldn't do it again. She couldn't marry. To have that weakness taken from her. Again. She couldn't put someone else's life in danger like that again. Not with Mara watching. Not with Uthreida s disgrace of her youth. No.

She couldn't marry the king. Either king.

And she had to let Cullen go less Mara should see. To see what she was starting to feel. And the guilt that ripped at her. It was too soon, wasn't it? Her attraction to Blackwall was proof that she wasn't emotionally ready for any kind of relationship, let alone marriage. To anyone. Cullen had said the marriage was in name alone, but.

His eyes.

His hand lifted to her face and the look of dejection when she jumped.

His scent had filled her stomach with Dibella's moths that she hadn't felt in such a long time.

But was it fair to him? To Farkas. She did her three months of mourning. Drunk. But is it fair?

Silver eyes came back to her mind's eyes. Her heartbeat heavier at the memory of large hands holding hers. Of black hair mixed with her red, splayed over the sheets of her bed. His scent filling her with peace. His breathing a constant reminder even in the quiet cairns that he was with her. His blade at her back. His chuckle in their sparring. She blinked back the tears and breathed through her closing throat.

Farkas wouldn't want anyone to get hurt. He didn't want anyone to die. Make a show, but don't kill unless you have to.

But he'd want her to live. She knew.

Until the blood became too much to control.

He'd want her to be happy. Right?

Then why did she feel so guilty at the thought of leaving Farkas behind knowing she would never see him again in Sovngarde?

And why did she feel guilty for choosing Cullen who was growing closer, becoming attractive, sworn to kill her, and now, leaving him behind only to forge a life for him in her death?

So why did it feel like the kindest thing, was to be alone?

On a mountain.

Away from civilization

Like a dragon, she tried not to become

Xx two weeks later xx

Cullen looked over the war map before them and breathed in the familiar scent of the room. Josephine smirked. "I have received several requests concerning the Commander's lineage from some, interested parties."

Cullen threw his head back in expiration. If he never saw Halamshiral again, it'd be too soon. "Andraste preserve me. Feel free to use those requests as kindling."

"No. I shall take them." Liliana stated with a smirk as she reached a hand over him to Josephine. "I wish to know who pines for our Commander." Her playful smile met his eyes and scowled as Josephine passed a stack of letters to her friend. Cullen growled as the spymaster flipped through some of the letters. "We can use this to our advantage."

"I'm not bait." He retorted loudly.

"Shush" she smiled wickedly. "Just look pretty."

Royoc chuckled from his side of the war table as he read over a new list of requests and political favors. "I'm eager to learn what our commander's dowry is from such, lovely, would-be suitors. As well as their debts of a divorce."

Cullen clutched his pommel with an annoyed breath. "This is absolutely ridiculous. Might we speak of anything else?"

"No, the Inquisitor makes a good point," Liliana said passively as she reviewed the letters. "If they are willing to pay for the divorce proceedings, the profits could go back into the Inquisition. And with Mother Giselle on ground-"

"Who won't." He stated quickly.

Liliana shot him a look that made him swallow back his retort. He tried and failed. She smirked at the information of his personal life and kept flipping through the letters.

"You needn't worry, Commander Cullen." Josephine tried to reassure with a soft smile and a hand to his unarmored biceps. "I'm sure King Alistair will pay for the divorce. With the trade agreements being what they are."

Liliana chuckled. "I'm sure with the scandal he caused in Halamshiral, he will do so with a generous heart. Alistair has always been too kind. He's a good man."

Cullen shot his annoyed expression to the door. The only scandal in question was the fact that he let it happen. He couldn't escort, but he's a damn king. And Cullen was, is, nothing in comparison. He had to let her go to comply with the 'royal request.'

"And such a scandal works far too well in our favor, no?" Josephine tittered behind her hand, her brown eyes shifting to him for a moment. Cullen arched a brow at the Antivan woman letting her know he was losing his patience for the conversation. "We're just teasing, Commander. You and the lady make an admirable couple. If frightening."

"Oh," Liliana awed at a letter. "Commander, do you have a particular aversion to males?" Her innocent eyes only made him deepen his scowl. "No?" She hummed and kept flipping through the letters.

"I've received reports," Cullen tried to control the meeting, "of red lyrium from Emprise du Lion. I would suggest finding the source of these rumors before going to the Western Approach. If we can sever Corypheus's supply lines prior to meeting the Wardens, we could potentially weaken his capabilities further west."

He looked up to meet Royoc's eyes. Who smiled like a wolf. "Thank you for your continued sacrifice of the Inquisition, Commander."

Cullen looked around the room and realized he was outnumbered. "I'm going back to the Templars." He stated with a defeated tone.

The room gave a quick laugh at his comment.

Royoc was the first to catch his breath. "In any event, I'm inclined to agree. With winter approaching, we can't afford a full-scale march to the Western Approach. Small jumps and leaps across Orlais would be the best effort. We can start in Emprise du Lion and make our way west to our targets. In the meantime," he pulled a report up for inspection. "Josephine, I'd like you to facilitate the peace talks between Fereldan and Orlais. I'm sure King Alistair needs all the help he can get." He said with a smirk, but his brown eyes flashed to Cullen quickly. "While King Alistair is out of the way, Liliana, I'd like you to investigate the possible Venatori assassins in Denerim with the Ben-Hassarith. As for the letter from Sister Paulette," he gave a heavy sigh as he read over the report. Cullen clenched his jaw at the situation before him. "I am inclined to agree with you, Commander. The Red Templars are a larger threat than some barbaric Avvar. See that they don't lose the trail."

Cullen gave a solemn nod. "Of course."

Royoc took a cleansing breath and straightened his back. "While we wrap things up in Fereldan, we need to start preplanning for movements through Orlais. Winter is upon us and that means an increase in medics, warming supplies, as well as decent horses. We can expect to see a decline in bandits, however, that safety means nothing against the elements. We need to start issuing winter gear to the field. If we plan this right, we can expect to be in the Western Approach by late winter, early spring. I want our veterans in the field while we train the recruits as best we can in a controlled environment. This way, we can have bolstered numbers by the spring. Liliana, your men will be the first in the area. Ensure their outfitted first for the winter. Followed by the Soldiers. Deliver your numbers to Josephine for procurement of supplies."

"It will be done," Liliana stated softly with a nod.

"Is there anything else?" Royoc asked the group.

"Not at present," Cullen stated quickly.

Royoc took a deep breath and smiled at Josephine. "How are preparations for the party tonight?"

The Antivan beamed. "The Satinalia festival will be, modest, but humble."

Cullen could only chuckle at her phrasing. "I know the men appreciate the additional rations and half staffing for the evening."

"Too true." She said with a smile. "Speaking of," she gently touched Cullen on the arm for his attention, "when you have a moment, I need to discuss a, how do I say this, cultural" she looked away in thought. "I need to speak to you after this meeting."

Liliana chuckled, already knowing what the conversation was about. Cullen arched a concerned brow at Josephine but smirked. "Right."

"Well," Royoc clapped his hands, "I think this concludes this meeting. You two," he waved his hands to the ambassador and the Commander quickly. "If you'll excuse me, I think I saw a bottle of port that has my name on it."

Cullen watched the Inquisitor and Spymaster collect their things as Josephine stacked her paperwork. She watched him and the other two leave in silence before taking a breath. "First, Commander, you know we were just teasing, yes?" Her brows furrowed in apology as she looked up at him.

He wanted to scowl at her but felt himself soften to the woman. "I'm aware."

"Good," she said with a heavy breath. "Second, in preparation for the night's festivities, I had ordered some garland to be purchased. While the servants were hanging them, it was noticed that Lady Uthreida was, shall we say, removing them?" She offered an awkward expression for him to pick up on. "When I confronted her about it, she said she was going to give it to the apothecary to replenish the health and resistance to cold potions. And, while there is merit, we agreed that all trimmings of the festivities are to be reused after for such potions. But-" she gave a heavy sigh.

Cullen arched a brow and smirked. "She's still stealing them, isn't she?"

"The hold is practically barren." Her voice rising in her frustration. Cullen arched a brow, remembering the dark garland that hung along the walls and tabletops of the main hall. Josephine gave a hard breath. "Could you please speak to her? Tell her to put them back?"

Cullen gave a chuckle. "It's a bit late now."

She sighed again. "That's not the point, Commander. The holly and mistletoe hold great significance for the night's traditions. The red and white symbolizing Andrate's," she met his eyes and realized who she was speaking to. He didn't need the history lesson on how the holly represented the blood and the purity of Andraste. "Will you please speak with her?"

Cullen scratched the back of his head. If Uthreida said she wasn't going to steal them, she wouldn't. He lowered his brows in thought. "Health potions? From holly and mistletoe?"

"She said she knew a recipe." She said with a shrug.

Cullen gave a quick sound of disbelief but shrugged it off. "As you say. I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you." Josephine gave a relieved smile to him and made her exit of the war room.

Cullen collected his things and set off to find her, but was distracted between Soldiers, reports, missives, a new horse, and conversations. Cullen sat over his desk reviewing the notes from his last three meetings for the week. With permission from Orlais, they could move without impunity to bring an end to Corypheus. He wanted to march directly to the Western Approach but knew moving linear seems to be the most effective method. He also had to consider the winter that would halt or stop supply lines and transportation.

The sound of shouts and laughter reminding him that the fort was in full swing of Satinalia. And he was in his office. Working.

He took a breath and tried to figure the number of men needed to hold the area but his mind kept going numb to the work. He was distracted by the soft music in his drawer.

He needed a distraction.

He took a breath and resigned that a drink and some socializing would do him some good.

He shoved his work into a drawer and stood.

The door opened and he sighed. Work.

Uthreida stood before him with, a pillowcase? That looked heavy. "Blessings, Commander."

"Good evening?" He said to her odd chipper tone. "I was on my way out."

"Don't lie to me." She said as she approached. Cullen held his hands wide to his cleared desk. She looked at it but slung the case on the desk. It made a sound of metal on metal. "I know you hate it, but suck it up." She stated as she started to reach into the sack. "As you know, I hate your armor." Cullen crossed his arms and looked down at her with a sneer. She moved the sack so she had to pull it down over what she was carrying. Cullen rounded his desk to believe what he was seeing. "Hope you don't mind, I took a few liberties." She revealed an entire Brest plate with a matching backplate and pauldrons. Each shoulder looking like a tribal lion complete with teeth. She picked it up and shook it to get the innards out and, Maker, is that where his helmet went. "Hey, by the way, I stole your helmet. Aye. Alright. So," she laid the whole thing out on his desk as if for his inspection. "Brest plate, tassets, half shirt, don't read too deep into it, and decent greaves. Your welcome." Cullen took in the full armor. The Brest plate was thick. And held a bit of what he could call a half-moon on the sternum as it was fitted to the lower pieces. It looked like a target for the weakest part of the armor.

"You no longer have an excuse for...anything."

His eyes drew to the half-ring mail shirt. The arms and three inches of the shirt around the arms were pure ring mail. He looked at the armor again and saw that his torso would be well covered.

"Now, I know that enchanting is different here than my home, and I've been doing some research and I think I can get it to about seventy-five percent magical resistance. Because, well, it's you."

The greaves looked like standard greaves that would actually protect his shins. Combined with the tassets, he would be well protected in battle.

"I'm thinking of calling it Oppression. Or Templars Testament."

Cullen looked at the pauldrons and saw the tongue of the lion on both the shoulders flicked to create the blade guide so it was pulled away from him.

"Like I said, I took some liberties because your land's armor is different from mine. But, I think, I think I did pretty good. I mean, it's effective. And it'll work. And I swear if you don't say something-"

Cullen flicked his eyes to the helmet then the armor and noticed it was all in Silverite. Maker. Even if this armor was horrible, it'll be worth a lot. "Where did you buy this?"

"I got the ore from Miss Sims and Harrett and the leather is...well...dragon."

Cullen finally looked at her with lowered brows. She was innocently confused by his confusion. "You...I refuse to believe you made me armor."

Her look turned offended. "I told you I would."

He looked at the set. "How...when did you have time?"

"Oh, now you care of my daily schedule."

"Utha"

"What? Just take the damn gift."

Cullen looked it over then at her. "Will it fit?"

"Will it fit?" She asked with rolling eyes at him. "Better than what you got." He gave a skeptical look. "Take it off and I'll prove it."

He shot her a look and took her up on the challenge. He removed his weapon and started to remove his breast plate as she opened the one she 'made'. After ten minutes, he stood before her without upper armor and ready to prove her wrong.

She rested the plate over his head and started to buckle his sides. He looked over and noticed that the half-moon with pauldrons was his gorget. She finished the open side and placed the gorget overhead and started strapping it to his lower plate while letting him work the pauldrons.

Uthreida passed him the Templar vambraces back to see if it would work. The elbow clicked slightly and she already looked annoyed at her math. She undid the buckling for his arms and made some minor adjustments in silence, ignoring his teasing.

She waved a hand at him to try it. Cullen shifted his weight to the idea of it. He rolled his shoulders, bent forward, and trying to find obvious fault before giving his verdict. Still slightly concerned she made a suit of armor in little time with resources she purchased from the Inquisition. For him.

It was bulkier than modern armor and felt familiar of his Ferelden armor. But he had to admit, he felt safe in it. His eyes went to the half shirt. Nothing could penetrate his chest or torso in this armor.

He looked at her with skepticism as she hid a yawn behind her hand. One he mimicked unconsciously. He didn't realize how tired he was. Or her, for that matter. The bags under her eyes were darker than he'd seen in a while. He wanted to ask her if she was alright. He wanted to make sure she was sleeping. But didn't know how to move from his grudge with her.

Speaking of grudges, he looked away. "How do I know it'll work?"

Her jaw jutted in anger as he questioned her smiting. "Excuse me?"

He grunted. "I can't very well change my armor mid-campaign. I'll need a reason why and how the chantry mouse pay could possibly afford this."

Uthreida rolled her eyes and grabbed his furs and cloak. "This armor is specifically designed for the cold. Hence, furs." She wrapped it across his shoulders and for his fitting. She gave an appreciative smile. "Damn, I do good work."

He looked down at himself. He was larger than in his other armor. And it still smelled of the smoke of the forge. He looked at her in concern. She had spent so much money on him. Why? What does she get? "I have concerns." She gave a look of judgment but waived a hand over herself as if it explained it. He sighed. "Utha, you've bought me a very expensive bottle of scotch, new boots, an outfit, and now armor."

"And?"

"And" he sighed, unsure of the point he was making, "why?"

She looked offended at his question. "Because I'm generous with my...fuck it. Friends."

He looked dubious. "Why?"

"I just-"

"What do you gain from this?"

"Ha?"

"Why outfit me? Is this you asking for forgiveness? Like I should forgive you of every trespass just because you get me overpriced gifts. I mean, it's working but-"

She growled. "I don't know how much plainer I can make this." She said into her annoyed facepalm. "I want you to be better than you are." She flashed an annoyed smile. "You need to be better if you wish to win this war. You need to be better if you want to take down...sorry, what's his name?"

"Corypheus." He stated dryly.

"No, the other one." She waved a vague hand to his chest. "Your other half."

"Sampson?"

"Aye. Further, you have to be better if you intend to kill me. So," Cullen snorted at her hubris. He kicked his leg out to buckle her knee. She shot him an annoyed look but flustered.

He smirked as he interrupted her hubris. "So you're arming me for...what? To make a better target against you?"

She paused as if the answer was obvious. "Well, it's unfair if I don't give you a chance."

Cullen bit his lower lip to keep from smiling. "So why would I take any of your 'gifts' and not rise through my own means. Why would I give you the power, the opportunity, to allow you to say that the only reason for my success was because of you? Because of what you've given me."

She paused to consider. "You have a point. But," she tapped her chin in thought, "what you fail to realize is your armor is shit and you don't know how to dress." Cullen groaned at her continuous assault. "Wouldn't I be the fool if I gave you the means to kill me with little to no training required from you?"

"Wouldn't you be the saboteur to rely on that?"

She took a step back with an offended look. "You question my work?"

"And motive." He crossed his arms, realizing it was thicker than usual. "If it's so good, why give it to me?"

"Because you need it."

"Why?"

"If you don't want it-"

"I want it-"

"Then why are you-"

"Why do you want me to want this to want...you...I'm confused. Just why?"

"Cullen, have you never received a gift in your entire life?"

"Yes, but" he took a hard breath. "Your gifts have ulterior motives-"

"Ha?" She made a dramatic flick and looked disgusted.

"Why did you buy me scotch?"

"Because you like scotch."

"Why expensive scotch."

"Because it's good." She waved a hand at the obvious statement.

He groaned. "Why the outfit?"

"You needed one. You wear armor all day. Besides, everyone needs one good-looking outfit in case they meet nobles, parties, and the like."

"The boots?"

She groaned. "Your current boots, while a decent choice for your current surroundings," she waved her hands to the flagstone, carpet, and sanded wood floorings, "will not do well in the field. Your welcome."

"Why the armor?"

"Because your armor is shit! Cullen" she took a quick breath of patience. "Tsun. Cullen, your armor is too small. It's ill-fitting. And it's a soft metal. You are the Commander. I shouldn't see your death every time you don your armor. Every time I see your armor, I want to snap it. I want to break it. I want to watch it rust in the poison of my hatred for it." Watching the seething of her words and actions made him chuckle at her strong hatred for a few plates of metal. "But I can't break it if you don't have backup armor. If you don't have a decent set of armor to replace. So," she waved her hands at his current set.

"Why? Why would I willing wear this knowing-"

"I know armor" she bellowed over him. "I've made my own. I've worn my own. I've battled dragons, trolls, bandits, giants, wolves, mages, bears, name it. All of your armor in the armory is pretty but not worth it. Not generational. It won't hold up over time using cheap and soft metals. And all of the good armor is given to the Inquisitor and his circle. And I don't trust anything to come out of those forges to protect you because you will most likely pretend like the shortcomings of your armor is nothing in favor of men's armor repairment. I want you to be better. I want you to succeed and you can't do that in your horrendous half armor that you refuse to admit is cheap simply because it's your first. I'm doing this because you lack the resources that Royoc is hoarding and-"her anger dissipated as she met his eyes. Her last word hanging as she looked at him and he saw what she was saying. A smile playing over his lips as his ruse was met and his question answered. She genuinely wanted to protect. Uthreida folded her arms quickly. "I hate you sometimes. You know how to interrogate mages, don't you?"

"It helps."

"Oh, aye, I'd imagine. All soft pokes and whispered pleas only to be succumbed by the blond locks and puppy eyes. Oh, I see you Mephala. I see your tests, Mephala. But the Aedria are with me and I will not succumb. Shut up, Cullen, I don't need your facts." She looked beyond him at the empty spaces of his office as if speaking to the...spirits... "Leave him, Mephala. He's far too innocent for your realm. And while I'm sure that's reason enough, don't waste your time." She clapped her hands three times. "Leave this place." And did it again.

He looked confused at her thoughts but let it go. "Right." He cleared his throat to change the subject. "So, all of this really is...what?"

She sighed hard. Her arms crossed over her chest as she looked him over in the armor. "I just...want to make sure you're taken care of."

Her tone was off the cuff and he lowered a brow. That is unusual. "Why?"

"Because I think" she looked everywhere but him, "it's important" and cleared her throat. "Do you want the armor or not?"

"What are you hiding?"

She looked away with an open hand as if trying to hide her position. "Usually or-"

Cullen arises his arms with a smirk. "Usually. Let's go with usually."

She chuckled at his game. "Inadequacy. Lots of those. Uh, guilt. So much guilt. Ah," she puffed her cheeks to give him a picture without actually saying anything.

He scoffed for a moment. "So, let me get this straight. You made me armor, to protect me, for the future, that neither of us know what's going to happen."

She paused as if to review his words. Then blew a raspberry. "Well, aye. That's why you wear armor, Cullen."

He palmed his face and exhaled. "Yes, but that's not the point. Why did you-"

"Because I hate your armor-"

"Got it, but why?"

"Because"

He held up a hand to her open, frustrated hands. He took a breath. "Utha, what's going on?" He allowed the exhaustion in his voice to show a sense of level with her.

She took a breath and crossed her own arms. "Nothing...right now. I just-" she blew out her cheeks. She licked her lips in thought as she kept her eyes averted from him. "I just want to make sure that, uhh, look if you don't want it-"

"Just say it already." His patience snapped and didn't care how terse he sounded.

She blew out from her nose with a frown at him. "I'm sorry for what's going to happen."

He looked at her with wide eyes and took a step back. "What's going to happen?"

She rubbed her neck with a painful grimace on her face. "It doesn't look good."

"What?"

"Our paths."

He lowered his brows at her cryptic words. "Out with it woman. What are you saying?"

"What I mean is: if I succeed in our pact, then you will need the armor. And if you succeed, I will do what I can to ensure your victory is well won."

His lips curled back in deeper confusion. "What?"

"And to ensure that you are protected from...my...mistakes."

He could only blink. "What?"

"As is owed, as my husband."

"Are you" he looked her over quickly with a quirked brow. "Are you, planning suicide?"

"Ha? No. No. Well, I do hunt dragons so it's only a matter of time" she said with a laugh, "but no. No. Well, in a manner of speaking. But no."

Cullen took a deep breath. "Maker, preserve me. What are you trying to say?"

She took a breath. "That I hate your armor, and here is better armor. If you want it."

"Because you fear, what? Exactly? A future that I" he threw his hands up in defeat. "You know what. Never mind. Thank you? I think? I don't know anymore." He arched a brow at the metal then at her. "Will it work?"

"Do you wish to test?" She asked blandly with her hands on her hips in frustration at the situation.

He looked her over quickly. Apparently, he was cutting into her holiday drinking time. "Yes. Yes, I would."

"Let's go." She waved a vague hand to the rings outside his office.

He looked at the armor quickly turn at his opponent. "On me, or on a dummy?" She made an annoyed face but smiled as she thought of a offensive pun. He held up a warning finger for her to watch her tongue.

She gave a surrendering hand. "On the training dummy, obviously."

He looked down again. "I should probably take this off then?"

She looked him over awkwardly. "Aye."

He dropped his smile. "Means help me get out of this." He waved his hands to the armor.

She frowned in thought and he saw what she meant. If he intended to keep, he would have to learn on his own. She smirked and shimmied her shoulders. "I get to get the commander out of his armor."

He scratched behind his head to hide the snort of a laugh. "Okay." He dropped his eyes only seeing her feet as she approached.

She started on his shoulders as he worked the vambraces and biceps. She helped him take off the gorget as he bent over to get it off over his head. The second was the lower bracing that he slid from. She placed the new armor back into the pillowcase as he collected his older armor and set it aside to place on the stand later.

He followed her to the courtyard where she set up on the archery range behind the tavern. She showed him the buckling system but let him place it so he would learn. Once complete, she handed him the bow and small quiver of training arrows. He knew she was the better archer, but she was letting him test his own armor.

Cullen nocked an arrow and drew. He took a steady breath and aimed for the center of the plate that seemed to look like a target. He felt his father at his back as he loosed.

The arrow did bounce off, as it should, but Cullen inspected the plate. In the light of the moon, there didn't appear to be any damage.

"See." She said behind him.

"They're training arrows." He retorted quickly. He looked quickly for the black fletching's and found a few to indicate war arrows. He retook his stance and knocked. He drew a death and gained his sight before losing. The arrow was repelled and fell into the sand.

"You've got a good archery stance." She said as if impressed. "I thought you Templar lot were all 'swords are the only way."

He gave a quick huff as he approached the armor and dummy. "First, Templars are trained in several martial disciplines. Archery being one. Second" he lifted the armor from the stand to look at the damage. "My father was a trapper. I know how to hunt and shoot." He ran a hand over the underside and didn't feel any penetration from the arrow. On the front, the damage was minimal. Good armor. If on the front. He placed it back on and spun the dummy so he could shoot at the side and rear of it.

"I take it you excelled in archery." She stated with a smirk as they walked back to the starting line.

He gave a soft chuckle. "Hardly. My father taught me to be accurate and how to lead. The Templars thought that enough arrows will fell any opponent. So my shots generally took longer to fire, thusly, usually failing the tests of the draw, but always passed accuracy and precision. Coupled with my eyesight not suited for longbows. I did better at swordplay." He knocked an arrow and looked at his target. "When I was younger, I preferred the double hefted." He took his aim and fired. The arrow, again, bounced and landed in the sand. The ring of the armor letting him know he hit the mark. "Now that I'm older, and after thirty years of kneeling for prayer, my knees are going out. Sword and shield suit me just fine." He took a few steps to move to the rear of the dummy and fired his last arrow. The arrow protruded the dummy with no ring. He looked at Uthreida who only lowered her brows at the armor. She stepped off first and he followed.

The arrow had hit the softcore under the arm.

"If you wear the half-shirt, it should be fine. Good shot though. Even in the moonlight. Would've gone through the heart."

Cullen took the compliment. Not mentioning he was aiming for the back.

She pulled out the arrow and picked up the one on the ground. She passed them back to him.

He offered her the bow. She waved it off. "Not much of a challenge if I do it."

"I think I've seen enough." He looked at the armor on the stand. "You do good work." He offered with a smile. She canted a hip as if she already knew. "I'll never wear it, but I'll take it."

She made an annoyed face at him but sighed. "As you wish. But, I would like to request, that you at least wear the half-shirt in battle. And the other bits of armor." She waved a hand to make her point. "Battle only. Not training. You, apparently, don't want your men to see."

He met her request with a nod. "I'll do what I can."

"Thank you." She said softly. Her eyes turning back to the armor. She ran a hand over the pauldrons in silence. Her face turning down in thought.

"What is it?"

She looked at him with wide eyes but faked a smile. "It's-" she paused, her former look returning. She looked around her as if to make sure they were alone. Minus the patrons in the tavern, the soldiers moving on patrol, and the smiths in the forges, they were mostly alone. She chewed her lower lip for a second as if to have him. "Can I get your opinion?"

He lowered a brow at her actions but still smiled at her behavior. "Of course."

She took a deep breath, folding her arms over herself as if to think or warm herself from the cold winds. "While we were in Halamshiral, the King used this, fire. I think. He called it vail fire. But," she lowered her brows in thought. "I asked Solas about it. And we spoke more and under deeper conversations."

He smiled, remembering how she was at the elf's side most of the trip back. And how his mind kept going back to how he pushed her to the king as court educate would dictate. How she jumped when he wanted to cup her face. To feel her. To hold her. To ask if he could touch her. And the guilt and cowardice that came after. The memory making his stomach both tighten and drop at her dismissal. "I remember."

She nodded. She ran a finger over the tongue of a lion on the pauldrons. "He's very insightful. Very wise. For his age. Or mine."

Cullen arched a brow at her tone. "I sense a but."

"But" she took a heavy breath. "There were times when he said things. Phrases that didn't make sense to me. When we spoke of the ancient elven empire, he would occasionally say my people or our people. But when speaking of the present elven culture, he would say things like 'the people' or just 'people.' Like he held a deeper connection to the ancients than he did of the present." Cullen arched a brow. Unsure of the line of thought she was on. "As we moved further, he asked me of Tamriel's history of elven empires and kingdoms. I understand he's a historian of sorts, but" she drew her brows again with a loud exhale. "There was something in his tone. His movements. Does this land have a group that wishes to see the ancient elven empire return?"

"No." He paused. "Well, yes, but" he gave a sigh. "The dalish move to learn of the history that was stripped of them. To be reconnected with the old ways. But it's not like they actively trying to reincarnate it."

She looked him over with a brow of concern. "He sort of reminds me of my grandda in a way. Valdin would speak of Skyrim's glory before the Great War, but, failed to mention that during that time, he was a child. Living behind his mother's skirts. With few to no responsibilities. When in reality, the Aldmeri Dominion was doing everything to secure their position in Hammerfell, Valenwood, and Cryodiil." She gave a heavy sigh. As she looked on. "Does the word Thalmor mean anything to you?"

He shook his head slowly. "Should it?"

She took a deep breath and looked to the winds. "I hope not." Her tone was dark and full of worry. She looked to the moons in thought.

A loud ruckus from the tavern caught their attention and both turned to look at it. Uthreida was the first to chuckle. "I swear, you lot are just like the Bretons."

Cullen crossed his arms as he looked at her. "Is that an insult or" he let the sentence hang.

She smiled as she looked at him. "Depends. Satinalia is a Breton holiday. Nords celebrate Yule a few days before with similar trimmings-"

"Speaking of, Josephine asked me to ask you to stop stealing the holly and mistletoe from the hold."

"If she didn't want it stolen, she shouldn't put it in places I can get to." She stated vehemently.

Cullen laughed at her quick response. "It's decoration."

"Snowberries and all-heal can make potent healing potions. I was just trying to help the apothecary."

Cullen doubled over at her tort response. When he could finally look at her without laughing, he took a breath. "Snowberries?"

"Aye. The red ones."

"That's holly, dear. And I assume mistletoe to you is all-heal?"

"Aye."

"Right." They got the colors backward. "Brilliant."

She caught on to his sarcasm and squinted her eyes at him. "What?"

"Nothing. So you don't particularly partake in Satinalia?"

She made several sounds as if to describe something but didn't actually say anything. "I'll admit, celebrating Yule without family is...well" she shrugged. "And Satinalia is more of a village holiday. So, I guess, I partake in Satinalia? More often? Than not?"

He gave her a pained look. "That was painful."

"Shut it. So, I find it peculiar that our continents share the same holiday." She gave a wide smile at him to show she was onto something. A connection. "Thoughts?"

He smirked as he looked her over. "Depends. Why do your people celebrate the winter nights?"

She gave a quick shrug. "Originally, it was a holiday for Sanguine, the Prince of Debauchery." She gave a quick click of her tongue and a wink. "Ultimately, it's a time to let go of social norms before the New Life festivals in five days. For the Nords, Yule is a time to celebrate with the family at home to avoid the negative spirits of the land. Usually for about two weeks. Then, during the New Life, we jump into a freezing river to wash the old year and bring in the new with the new lunar calendar."

He gave a skeptical look. "You jump, willingly, into frozen rivers."

"Aye. Naked." She winked again with a smile. "Well, mostly naked. You still wear your smalls."

"Why?"

"Tradition." She said with a shrug. "Plus, the spiced mead warms you up so you don't even notice the cold. Until you do. And then it's fun."

He laughed at her logic. "Let me get this straight. You jump in, then out again?"

"No" she waved a dismissive hand, "last one out will have the most blessed year."

"Which would imply that you, just, what, freeze in the river until you're the last one out?"

"Well, if you drink, it's not that cold."

"Makers mercy. Are you serious?" he asked between laughter and smiles.

"Aye. It coincides with the summoning of Mangus and Clavicus Vile. In doing so, Sometimes, the unfortunate will" she moved her hand like the flow of a river, "float." All Cullen could do is laugh at the idea. "I take it your people don't do that?"

"We do not. For very obvious health reasons."

"Not made for the cold then?" She teased.

"We are not."

"I can tell." She pointed a finger to her nose to indicate his. He sniffed to prove her right when his nose was frozen. "So, why do your people celebrate?"

"Uh" he shifted slightly, "it's to celebrate the moons. Specifically the smaller moon, Satina."

"You mean Secunda."

"No," he stated with a playful haughty, "Satina. Anyways, it's a time for revelry," he waved a hand at her to show a connection, "but also gift-giving and familial ties. But overall, as it's the middle of winter, it's also called feast day in Ferelden. It means that whatever is extra in the winter storage can be consumed, or feasted, without fear of the rest of the winter. Then, like you, we ring in the new lunar year on the First Day celebrations where we check in on distant friends and family. We take extras from our feasts to our neighbors and family. No frozen rivers."

She looked away in thought. "Our holidays are closer than I thought. If the New Life festivals celebrate the sun, then it would make sense that your chantry would have a day to 'check in' on your 'family'."

He gave a slow nod. "That does make sense."

A familiar sound made Cullen lower his brows as he looked at the tavern they were near. And he questioned which of his Ferelden soldiers had bagpipes.

"What is that?"

Cullen looked down at her intrigued curiosity. "Care for some culture, dear?" He asked with a grin.

"Uh, sure. Aye. Wait, the armor."

Cullen quickly removed it from the post and stashed it behind a bush. With an eager smile, grabbed her by the wrist and lead her to the tavern. He looked over at her to see her give an awkward smile at his jubilation.

He pushed open the door to see the tavern in full swing and almost hitting its max occupancy. The warmth of the tavern from the fire and the bodies was a welcome embrace from the winter wind. The smell of spices from the food and the body odor of the workers filled his nose as the traditional sounds of bagpipes and drums in the distance.

He looked over his shoulder as he entered to see Uthreida looking around the room as well. One of the serving girls met his gaze and he held up two fingers for pints.

He pulled Uthreida further in and placed her against a wall where she could see the merriment. He bent down and pointed to the six soldiers that were standing before the fire. Three were drummers, one flute, one lute, and one "bagpipes" he pointed to the last soldier.

The flute player was baldly singing the March to Cambridge that made him smile. It was in bad taste as they had Orlesian soldiers in their midst, but his Ferelden heritage was happy to hear it.

"How does it work" she had to shout over the crowd who was singing along with the soldiers and the drums.

"I have no idea." He shouted back causing her to throw her head back and laugh. "But it's Ferelden." The serving girl met him and passed him two tankards. He passed one to Uthreida and reached for his purse. The woman held up a hand to stop him. She looked at Uthreida and waved a hand between them. Uthreida nodded and smiled at the woman, pointing a finger to herself. The woman gave a nod and walked off. Cullen arched a brow at the heathen as she drank.

"I pay my tabs." She shouted at him.

Cullen shook his head at her, remembering to pay her back as the soldiers kept singing. He took a drink and watched the revelry of his troops. He saw her smile as she watched the soldiers make music and dance in circles in the tavern of the war song. The lute conducting their solo and watched Uthreida delight in watching them. Hearing traditional Ferelden music for possibly the first time.

He turned back to the soldiers and let the music fill him and he tapped his foot with the beat. The traditional upbeat song filled him and he found himself singing along with the final choirs. "Midnight mare and blood red roe, fight to keep this land your own. Sound the horn and call the cry, how many of them can we make die." He sloshed his drink as he lifted his tankard to the band.

The room erupted in cheers to the band when the song ended. Cullen gave an approved whistle and looked down to see Uthreida smiling in delight at the band, room, and at him. She said something he couldn't make out and knelt down to hear her.

A whistle and thump landed above his head like an arrow. Cullen looked up to see an arrow protruding from the wood panel with a bit of green on the shaft that looked like-

Makers breath. Really? Mistletoe? Who-

A loud crash came from the center of the room to see Sera recovering from her drop and landed on a full table. The patrons at the table have a quick sound of anger to see her stand. Sera tilted her head at Cullen with a ruthless smile. And upon her brow was crown of holly. Maker, she's the one who stole the garland, not Uthreida. Of course, Sera is the Lord of Misrule for the day. She gave a cackle as she looked the two over, her bow in hand. The room went unsettling quiet as he noticed all eyes were on him. And his wife.

"Give me your hands," Uthreida said as she looked at the fungus.

"What?"

"Lift me up. I want it."

"Maker," he gave a quick sigh of exhaust. "No." He turned his attention back to the fool and smiled. The eyes that were on him were wide as each seemed to calculate their chances of running before being caught by the guards.

"Command'a." Sera announced from her position.

Cullen took a step forward to approach the 'queen.' He gave a condescendingly low bow to her. "Queen Sera." He called to the tavern. "Thank you for the ale." He lifted his tankard to show his men he was there for a drink, not command. "And the music by the Soldiers fills me with a pleasure during these dark, war-torn, times." He laid the complements as thickly as he could. "But as I have stepped into your domain, your majesty," he bowed again, "how may I be of service?"

She tilted her head again to gauge him and the room. "Command'a Cullen. You have trained these men."

"I have." He said with a smile.

"Yea, we know. Shut it." The room gave an awkward snort at her quick and callous retort as he was mocked. "Where was I goin'? Whatev'a. Anyways. You and the misses. Under the mistletoe. You know the law."

The room shushed between a snicker and a sound of awe. Cullen looked over his shoulder at Uthreida who seemed confused as to what was going on. He guessed this is where their holidays differed. He looked back at Sera and smiled. "I am aware of the law. But I'm curious. What's the punishment for treason?"

Sera looked confused for a moment as if she didn't think that far ahead. But nodded with a smirk. "Arrows."

Vague, but alright. "To?"

"Arrows."

"So arrow to arrow? I have to match you?" Sera stood taller but looked away in thought. She did not think this through. "Must I do it myself or can someone go in my place. Sergeant Laufet. Is he here?" He asked the room for the Inquisition's eagle eye.

"Death." The elf stated with growling darkness. Cullen arched a defiant brow as the smile died from his face. "By mocking." She cackled again. "Oi, line up and tell the Command'a wot you really think."

Cullen looked over his shoulder again at Uthreida who was still confused by the spectacle. Cullen looked back at Sera. "To get this straight." He waved a hand at Uthreida to step forward. "You wish the people in your...kingdom, to each take turns mocking the Commander and the Dragon Slayer of the Inquisition? I should warn you, historically, that rarely goes over well."

Uthreida stood slightly behind him with the same lowered brow at the elf. "What's going on?"

"Well. Piss. Just do it then, yea."

Cullen looked around the room. Everyone was watching them and he's never felt more observed in his life. And apparently, the cultural tradition became law tonight. He bowed again to the queen. "Your majesty. As a commander of the forces, I cannot allow such tyranny nor the righteous indignation of or to the people. Nonetheless, ethical orders that stand incongruent with heavenly laws shall be carried. Therefore, I humbly acquiesce to your law."

The elf lowered a brow. "Wot?"

"Means" Varric called from the table with Bull. "He accepts"

"Yea!" She said victoriously with a smile. "It's good to be the king. Queen. Whatev'a. Well, get on with it."

Cullen looked annoyed at the elf, but turned to Uthreida. Who was still confused as to what was going on. Cullen took a deep breath, feeling his heartbeat in his throat. And the eyes on his back. And the anticipation in his stomach. "Close your eyes." He said to her softly.

She gave her own theatrical cackle. "No." She looked at Sera for answers. "Foreigner." She pointed to herself. "What am I doing?"

"You're about to kiss your husband," Varric said as he made his way to the bar.

Uthreida looked at Cullen with wide eyes then away with an embarrassed smile. He could see from the way she shrunk down that her toes pointed inward as she held her hands to her chest to play with her fingers. A pained and sheepish Expression pulled at her lips. Her eyes darting to the other eyes in the room. Her hands clutching at her collar.

His sentiments exactly. He took half a step forward and almost buckled his knee. "It's half a second, just, work with me." He whispered.

She met his eyes and took a breath. But smirked. "Must it be your culture, or can it be mine? Because we don't do," she looked around the room at all the people. "That." He arched a skeptical brow. Surely, her people must-

Someone coughed. Cullen took a deep breath and pushed his anxiety down. He was taking too long and he needed to act now. As a commander. In front of his men. He bent over slightly and stopped. She was uncomfortable. She didn't want this. Uthreida offered him her hand quickly. Oh, thank the Maker. One of them has a brain. He quickly took her hand and kissed her knuckles. She twisted her hand and kissed his. She held her hand to his chest, then his to hers. Uthreida winked at Sera and walked off.

"Oi-"

"Not today, Sanguine!" She shouted as she kept walking towards the soldiers with instruments. "How does that thing work?" She asked, pointing at the bagpipes.

Sera turned to Cullen in anger. He gave a sweeping bow and walked off. "Music." He called as he made his way to the bar.

The band started again and he saw Varric call Sera over to him. He watched as Varric crossed his arms with a look of annoyance at the elf who was trying to sell a story. He looked up and saw Cassandra sitting by the ledge on the second story. He crossed the room casually, noticing Uthreida watch the piper with unique fascination. He climbed the stairs and sat down next to his friend. She noticed his presence but didn't say anything. Cullen took a drink and surveyed the area around him. He didn't know any of these soldiers and none were officers or others that he would have to interact with on a daily basis.

He slid the drink in front of him and laid his head on the table. Taking a deep, loud breath as he let the embarrassment, anxiety, and apprehension leave him.

Cassandra softly chuckled as she drank.

Maker, why was the thought of kissing his wife so terrifying? And why did he feel like a coward for not doing it?

---

A/N: Did you know that Apographa is called the 'hidden writings' of the Tribunal Temple that was used by the high-ranking priests and inquisitional hierarchy? These writings were taken in secrete by the Dissident Priests who then tried to defy the Tribunal's divinity based on those writings. Who knew?

As for the sexual frustration, I know. The reason being that even in Skyrim, you don't kiss your spouse on your wedding day. Due to lack of cut scenes or whatever. So I'm rolling with the logic that Nords, like their Viking ancestry, are and can be very romantic, but don't display their affections in public. It's all behind closed doors or seen in bad taste. Even looking at the teaching of Dibolla, love isn't shameful. But to invite others to see what happens in the bed is a sign of flagrance and lack of decorum or discipline. Only Sanguine would revel in that. In short, no, I don't hate you. It's just A) Utha rolled a 19 on intelligence where Cullen rolled a 6. B) Culture meets religion. C) It would not have been appropriate for the environment they were in.

Also, the Song in the Tavern was 'March of Cambreadth' by Heather Alexander. It's apparently quite popular.