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.

19. Chapter 19

Here's your calibrated trebuchet full of fluffy unicorns with angsty plot horns and tin foil tricorns for everyone. Pull!

Obligatory statement of ownership and likeness and blah blah blah.

---

Something roused Cullen into waking. He looked to the ladder-well while on his stomach and listened for movement below. Nothing tipped him as movement as he rolled on his back on the bed and try to sleep again. The sound of a slight snore made him look over the bed. Then blinked slowly. Too tired to be annoyed right now.

Uthreida slept next to him. Far enough away on the bed to give him space. He smirked when he realized she snuck in. Again.

It had been six days since the last 'interlude' of awkwardness. They had been speaking since then. More details of their lives than they had previously. More as lovers than as friends before. More slight touches, and heated smiles. For a woman so brave, she seemed intent to take things slow with him. And honestly, he preferred it. Learning with her, her boundaries as she learned his. Learned in the quiet confines of his office or private areas of the keep.

He smiled softly at the woman. Six days. Meaning she hasn't been sleeping as well as she pretended. Truth be told, neither has he. But mostly due to thinking of tactics, war machines, red lyrium lines, and her lips that he hasn't tasted since that morning.

Her hand laid on the bed as if reaching out to him. His fingers slid over hers. Her hands were smaller than his. Softer. More delicate. Her nails were longer. They both had the same callouses on their palms, but her fingertips were soft. He smirked, thinking it was years of picking locks. He moved to stretch his hand across hers to play with her fingers. She mimicked his movements.

Cullen froze. She's awake. His breath was in his throat. He couldn't move, breathe at her conscious state. His eyes darted to her, waiting for a sign or voice to tell him to back off or stop touching. Damn him and his soul for desiring to touch. A simple, innocent touch.

Uthreida's body was solid before him. She clinched when he froze telling her he was also awake. She didn't speak. Didn't move. Just as afraid of ending the moment as well. Cullen forced himself to breathe again. He slowly ran his thumb over hers. Desiring to see if she was awake, or even receptacles the actions.

She didn't respond. Her hand laid limp in his, though it seemed forced. There wasn't as much manipulation that's usual. He swallowed hard at his courage as he fitted his fingers between hers, holding her hand. His fingers holding the back of her hand. He clenched his jaw, so frightened of what she would say. What she would do. His heart was beating out of his chest. How long has he wanted someone, anyone, to lie with him like this?

It wasn't about the sex. The demons have ensured that such desires will never be fed. It's not the physical he wanted. He craved intimacy. The silent moments of understanding. The soft touches that were heresy in the order. The warmth of a kindred fire. That is what he wanted.

This is what he wanted. He felt his heart swell as he held her hand tighter to his heart. She mimicked and instantly slackened her grip. Cullen felt a smirk cross his face at her failed attempt at acting but allowed her to believe he didn't notice. He turned to look at her form. Her breathing was deep. Forced deep. It was an unnatural rythem. He smirked and ran his thumb over hers. She followed suit, lifting her thumb to cover his. She paused midway as if realizing what she was doing and ended as naturally as she could.

He decided to end her suffering and this awkward exchange of what's allowed this early in the morning. "Good morning" he offered barely above a whisper. She adjusted slightly. Her hair fell around her. "What are you doing here? I thought you were afraid of being called a blood mage?" Cullen watched her shrink slightly at his observation.

Licking her lips, she rolled into her stomach and turned her head to look at him from the safe distance the larger bed allowed. She quickly bit her lip as if to force herself to speak. "Hypothetically," She cleared her throat to rid it of the morning gravel and lowered to a whisper, "if I were called a blood mage, what um" she cleared her throat again, looking at her hands as they played with the pillow below her. "What would happen to you?"

Cullen took a deep breath, the same question haunting him since that night. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. His eyes searching for hope but only finding the truth. The truth he once lived. "I would be watched. Closely. For indications of possession. However, it is not something the Inquisition can afford to do. I would be watched by other Templars for two to three years, most likely. Once the order is reestablished. I imagine."

"And what if you tell them the truth. That you" She clinched her jaw "willingly" but let the sentence hang.

"Executioners blade. Likely Royoc." Cullen breathed, feeling the cold metal against his neck. "He'd like that."

"And me?"

Cullen tilted his head to look at her, she wore a mask over her emotions, but her voice gave her away. She was frightened of this. "We'd share the same fate."

"And," she pulled a string from the pillow, creating destruction in her panic "if I were to run?"

Cullen swallowed, knowing exactly what Royoc would order. "I would have to send soldiers to track you down." He exhaled at the possible outcome. "They would fight. You would kill them. Neccessating the need for me to track you personally as I have the most experience in tracking mages."

She took a deep breath. "Is it possible, has a mage ever proven not to be a blood mage?"

Cullen looked away. All the memories of Kirckwall flooding back. The judgments he has passed, Meredith's decrees, Orainos dementia. "No. Well-" his thoughts going back to Samurilla Suana, then sighed, "but that kindness won't be repeated."

She swallowed loudly at the truth. She looked at the wood of the headboard in hopes of finding something useful there. She bit her lip again. She was about to say something she shouldn't. "And you're, okay, with this? The rumors alone-"

Cullen clenched his jaw and looked away from her. He knew the rumors. They were married, true, but it wasn't consummated. The rumors weren't completely inaccurate. But he still questioned what would his family think? A pagan, and mage, no less. And on a larger scale, what sort of image would that paint for the Inquisition? The Commander taking advantage of a contractor. Even if they did come outright with thoughts and feelings, it would only beg the questions that much sooner. And truths that he didn't want to admit. Even if all of that was pushed aside, they were still married. There was nothing wrong with what they were doing. Who had the right to speak anyways? Grant it, married under heathen law.

"So" she stated quickly to change the subject. Cullen noticed as she rolled onto her side and moved closer to him, her voice still barely above a whisper as if afraid the stones would tattle on them. "Hypothetically" she smiled as she spoke causing him to do the same "can I demand a trial by combat to prove-you know-" she shrugged at the suggestion.

His smile slowly faded at the notion. "Who would you combat?"

She paused, clearly not thinking it through. "Rylen. Cassandra. No, Varric. That would just-" she made a disgusted sound with a look to match.

"Or, hypothetically," Cullen took a deep breath hating his answer. "Someone who has bested you before. " He slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers. Her ice-blue eyes looked at him in silent horror slowly contorting to betrayal, then pain as she looked away from him. "Someone who would need to prove that they aren't a thrall."

She held a hand to her chin in thought, her eyes moving quickly to find a solution. "This is a bad idea, isn't it?"

"Yes, but we've already accounted for it." She smirked at his attempt at humor. But she was still concerned. Still frightened. Still scared to lose whatever this was. Whatever this was to become, he needed. He needed the sleep. He needed her peaceful shout. He needed, Maker take him, her. "We already have a pact, Utha." He moved a hand closer for her to take if she wanted it. "I would make it quick. Clean."

She looked at his hand, her body relaxing slightly at his kindness. "So would I." She met his gaze with a steeled conviction.

He smiled at her. Their fight would not be clean or quick. It would be dragged out. Both of them would be a bloody mess and end in their deaths. One in the ring, one in the medical tent. Cullen licked his scarred lip. "Then, we shall conclude our suicide pact, on three."

She arched a skeptical brow, a playful smile matching his. "On three, or three and then go?"

"On three."

"Who's counting?" She moved closer slightly. Finding comfort in the macabre conversation.

"You," Cullen said noticing how small she really was compared to himself. How delicate she is out of her armor. Figuratively and literally.

"Me? So you can kill me at two?"

"I like to pretend I'M a bit MORE honorable than that." He cajoled, remembering how she 'won' their last battle.

Uthreida gave a silent laugh at his comment recognizing he was right. She nodded. "On three then." She looked at him with mirth. But as her eyes searched him, piety began to grow. "One," she said softly, "two," she moved slowly, using her first and middle finger to poke at his jugular. She held her hand there, waiting to see his reaction. Cullen moved just as slow, placing his hand around her throat and giving a slight squeeze. "Three." Both of the warriors watched the other, feeling their hearts shrink at the idea. All Cullen could see was blood slowly slip from between her lips. Mouthing sounds to words he will never hear.

Uthreida was the first to look away, her hands moving to cover her chest. Cullen removed his hand from her throat and felt his sickness return. His body felt hot and his stomach lurched, from the withdrawal of her warmth. He searched her overlooking for the reason. "You won't kill me, will you?"

She smirked at him. "Says you." Cullen kept his gaze on her, not giving in to her game. She was silent as she stared at his chest unblinking. "Not like this. Not for this."

Cullen looked away from her to the ceiling. "I suppose there should be comfort in that."

She paused looking for words, but when she met his eyes, Cullen couldn't hear her even if he wanted to. He was transfixed on her smile, her red hair half thrown over the pillow in cascades of waves. Her eyes lit with hope and idealism. The collar of her shirt folded out to show the black ink on her chest. Her hand with the three triangles inches from his own. The other the hammer of justice covering her heart as she spoke. The light of the early morning filtered through the rafters doing something that made her look delicate and vulnerable. How she curves her shoulder as she was about to speak.

A nail hit the metal candle holder. Both turned to look at it with increased anxiety. "What was that?" She asked quickly. All sense of femininity was gone and replaced with a ready warrior.

"Nail in the candle." He comforted, watching her slowly slink back into a relaxed state. Enough to giggle at herself and her perceived threat. He smiled with her. Maker, what was happening? Cullen cleared his throat. "You alright? The last time we woke up like this, you were wondering around the hold and-"

She shook her head quickly. "I" she gave a deep sigh and held the pillow to her chest again. "I can't sleep. I keep having dreams of" her brows lowered and she shook her head, afraid to speak it into existence.

"Darkspawn?"

"Among other things. What of you? You said something last night about 'leave me.' What were you dreaming of?"

He scoffed and leaned back. "A nightmare, apparently."

"Aye, I assumed, given the sheen of sweat."

"Wait, you were conscious when you came in last night?" Uthreida bit her lips to stop herself from speaking and giving herself away. He only smiled wider. "Aw."

"Shove it. I" she sighed and looked away. "Anyways, after I did the calming shout, you started laughing, while sleeping, very creepy. Then said something about how the Soldiers need to treat the dogs better before snoring. Loudly."

Cullen laughed with a hand covering his mouth. She seemed amused when he was able to control himself. "Don't have a shout for that? The snoring?"

She pouted and looked away. "I do not."

He looked her over with a smile, feeling the heat in his core from the last time they awoke like this. Feeling her hand in his as his thumb rubbed against her knuckles. "I think it's obvious that neither of us is getting much sleep these days."

"That is true."

He looked away quickly so as not to fall for her, wiley, woman, warm, ways. He could admit that this is the first time in a long time he felt well-rested. Maker, he needed this. He sat up and leaned forward, resting his arms on his lifted knees. He met her eyes and had to bite his lip to keep from speaking from the heart and losing her. Her warm smile made him think of warm lips and poisoned wine. How he once thought her harsh and exotic was just her now. How her nose, was once too large for her face, became a balancing act for her bones structure. How her eyes once reminded him of the mountain's ice now made him think of the freedom the mountains offer.

"Do you enjoy?" He could hear the smile on her lips.

He had to look away with a smile. "I will deny to my last breath." She met his smile as she rolled on her back to see him easier. "But, I need" she arched a brow with a one-sided smirk of lust, "we" he cleared his throat, "need" He licked his lips, drawing his head down further to hide from her. "sleep." He .cleares his throat. Maker, he could feel her beaming in delight.

The second nail hit the metal candle holder letting him know it was time to rise. "How many more nails are in the candle before you have to wake up?"

"One more" he grumbled. Ending both this conversation and morning. She made a sound of understanding before rolling off the bed. Cullen watched her lean over to put on her boots. "Can you ask next time?"

She looked over her shoulder at him, a smirk playing on her lips. "And if you're asleep?" She returned her attention back to her boot.

Cullen shot her an irate look that she missed. "Can't consent when you're asleep."

She finished her buckle or lace in silence before she turned to look at him. "Would you prefer if I wake you? Even if you're having a nightmare?"

He smirked at her. "Please."

She looked him over slowly with a slightly lowered brow. "You like being in control, don't you?"

He looked away with a smile. Now she recognizes his rank. "It's not really about control."

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Is it not?" Cullen groaned, wiping his hands over his face. "Cullen." He turned one eye to her to see her looking at her hands as she spoke. "I can't sleep. I don't feel safe here. And it's obvious that you, if I may, are haunted by your past too." She looked him in the eye and said, "You ask for inconvenient consent when you need sleep. Should I deprive you?"

"Please."

She looked away again. "You know I will not ask."

"You have before."

She studied him. Her eyes searched his. "It just seems like a set up for you to stand over me, 'beg mage'-" her mocking deep tone was cut off.

"It's about boundaries, dear." She shot up a brow at him. "Look, I'm" he sighed. "Is that really how you see me?"

She gave a pained look at him that stabbed him deeply but also knew she didn't hold very many people up high due to her own history. Cullen sighed. "I'm not trying to control you. I just prefer-" He met her eyes and she remained silent as he tried to explain it without saying it. "I- boundaries, alright?"

She lowered a brow with a tilted head. "Most men would eagerly awaken to a woman next to them. Provided they have a desire for, of course. Which now begs the question, who did this to you?"

Cullen felt his jaw go slack but looked away before she could see the truth. "Just, ask, alright."

She clenched her jaw. "Ask me to go, to never return and I will ask the same of you. Ask me to do this, and I will never return to your bed again. I swear." her brows furrowed in pain at the prospect, but allowed him to make the choice.

He lowered a brow as if he was just betrayed. It was more than just the sleeping arrangements. It was the softness. The gentleness she offered. Being allowed to enjoy her scent. "Don't. Don't hold this against me by giving me an ultimatum. It's a simple request." He felt himself swallow hard. His eyes dropped to her hand that was closest to him. The smell of her thistle soap was still on his clothes. He slowly looked up at her. The last week of actual human intimate interactions has been the most productive, invigorating, stressful, freeing week he's had in a long, long time. Her heat, weight, comfort, feeling needed and wanted, rejuvenated him on some level. And all he could think was "Stay." Barely a whisper above his own thoughts. His eyes grew wider as he realized just how far under his armor she had gotten. And how frightening and relieving it was. "I am haunted by memories. That much is true. And it is because of them that I ask you to concede to this. We are married. There is give and take. It's not about taking and holding control. It's about giving comfort." He watched as her face relaxed into a serene smile.

"That I can do."

And the last nail hit the holder.

"That appears to be our time, Commander." She said with a smile. Her eyes dropped to his lips. "For the sake of understanding," she asked with an open hand and a blush creeping across her face, "It has to be a verbal request? Not a social cue?"

Cullen rubbed his neck at her question and saw the confusion on her face. "Look, I know I'm not very good at this. It's been a long time since I've ever wanted to be with anyone. So," he met her eyes and thought of Sam and the demons that looked like her in the tower. Their nails cutting and whispers of true control. "If I seem unsure, it's not without cause."

She nodded slowly. She moved so she was sitting on her knees before him. "So if I were to" she held a hand open for him. Waving a few fingers to allow him to take. He slid his hand into hers with a smirk. She took another step closer so she was kneeling over him. Her eyes cut between his lips and eyes, asking. "May I kiss you?"

Cullen's heart fluttered at her whispered request. Her soft concession to his needs. He lifted his free hand to cup her cheek to bring her down to him. She knelt but refused his lips as she kissed his forehead. A slow, soft kiss. His eyes closed at her gentleness and acceptance of his faults. She rested her forehead against his. Her hand moved to brace herself on his chest as if to feel his racing heart. His thumb caressed the scar on her cheek. Feeling the pull of her skin as she smiled. Maker, this. Her thistle scent and acceptance. Maker, thank you. She rubbed the tip of her nose against his and backed away.

"Why?" he asked absently. "Why is it hard for you to ask?"

She bit back a smile of wisdom as she looked away. "There is power in words, Valok. And there are some words I refuse to speak. And some words I fear you would use against me." Words like love, beauty, and admiration filled his mind and he understood what she meant. Words he too was afraid to say. "I hope you have a lovely day." She added a pretentious smile as she walked her way over to the ladder and descended.

Xxx

Uthreida entered the Commander's office to see it vacant. Her heart dropped but was also elevated at the idea that he wasn't there. She leaned over his desk to see if any of the missives open stated anything about dragons. Specifically, anything related to a dragon in Redcliff. She didn't want to move anything less he should notice something was off. And nothing so far. She walked to his books and started pulling books from the shelves, hoping to find something that related to dragons as slaves or used in wars. The Pentaghust conquests. Something even from that poof professor.

But of course not. War, tactics, history. A few love sonnets that she was sure were left over when the Inquisition took over and not of his choosing. She grunted. Reading for Solders and nothing of myth or legends or anything that she was looking for.

Theosodan writers we're a boring lot. Her brow arched as she found a tome on the fade. She nicked it under her arms and kept searching.

The south door opened and an elven kitchen maid enter with a tray of food for the commander's midday meal. They shared an awkward look before the maid smiled shyly. A small bow and placed the tray on the desk. Uthreida watched her. There was something familiar with her movements. Something that threw her. Something. A softness to her steps across the wooden floor. The elven woman bowed again and Uthreida realized it. "Excuse me." The woman turned to her. "What's your name?"

"Feila, my lady."

"Where are you from?"

"Ferelden, lady." She looked down at her dark green dress. The hems seemed fresh and didn't have the trademark of wear in the kitchens.

"When did you join the Inquisition?"

"A few months ago, Lady." Her brown eyes stayed downcast as she spoke. Her voice was thin, but it sounded forced.

Uthreida arched a brow at her. The woman's hands didn't have burns or cuts from the kitchens. "Do you work in the kitchens?"

"Yes, Lady."

Naan ran a tight kitchen. She should be squirming to get away but wasn't. "Why do you have a dagger on your hip?" The woman looked up then down again. "If I recall, the law in Orlais and Ferelden state no mer may weld a blade larger than their palm."

"The law was changed," she said quickly, "after the Hero, Samurilla, killed the archdemon."

"Aye. But why a dagger."

"For kitchen work, Lady."

"A paring knife or cutting knife, I'd understand. Why a dagger?" She paused for a second but her dark eyes looked at Uthreida and she smirked. "You any good? Or are you trying to prove yourself?"

"For protection, Lady." She took a smaller form to hide but Uthreida saw the training. Her own training.

"Tinvaak vazen." The woman looked at her with a curious look. "Aside from the Inquisition, who do you work for?"

She gave a smile. "King Alistair Therin of Ferelden." Her smile died as she held a hand to her betraying throat. Her hand reached for her dagger and Uthreida held a hand to stop her. A condescending tilt of her head to remind the woman who she was.

"Spy or assassin?"

She grit her teeth and almost choked on her lie. "Spy."

"What are your orders?"

"Gather intelligence." She said from a tightening throat. "Report findings."

Uthreida blinked slowly at the woman. Letting the information fill her as she looked at the elf. She had one question left. "Are you spying on the Commander as well?"

"Yes." She took a heavy breath, feeling the thu'um wear off. Looking at Uthreida with wide eyes.

Uthreida walked to the tray and looked at the delivered food. Realizing she wasted her last question. She looked at the woman, lifting the pastry in her hands. "What would happen if I ate this, and it was later discovered that I had been poisoned? Do you think you'll lose your position? Would the Inquisition be able to find another dragon slayer?"

"Breaker Thram-"

"Can only move as a team." Uthreida bit into the pastry, watching the woman. It tasted of a soup with the same homely herbs and a texture of meat she couldn't place. "Is it poisoned?" The maid shook her head slowly. Uthreida tilted her head to the door. "Send your report to our king, and I will keep mine. I'm sure Naan is looking for you by now." The elven woman only looked at her with slight confusion as Uthreida took another bite of the pastry. "What is this?"

"Meat pie."

"And that?" She pointed to a mostly spherical orange-looking thing on the tray.

"Peach." She said just as confused.

Uthreida arched a brow at the…peach but shrugged. "On with the butter then." The woman looked at the door, then her with a judging look of distrust. But Uthreida only took another bite. "Well?" She took a few slow, silent steps towards the door, never removing her eyes or hand from her dagger as Uthreida chewed the meal.

The door closed and Uthreida took the last bite of the pastry. She looked at the tray and took in the two small steaming baked potatoes and the peach…thing. A small bottle of wine was also provided for his lunch. Uthreida popped the potato and inspected the seal on the wine. Seemed safe. She ate the last small potato as she looked at the door in question. King Alistair has spies in the Inquisition. And Liliana allowed it. Does she know? Of course, she knows.

She picked up the odd-looking fuzzy peach and inspected it. She's never seen one but heard it was good. Given it was spoken of positively by Sera. She scowled for a second. How does she eat it? Bite? Cut? Roll and chew? She held it and ripped it apart on the seam. It revealed a pruned core that had red seeping into the yellow. She sniffed. Sweet. Fruit. Like a weird, fuzzy, apple. She licked the yellow.

New favorite fruit. She bit into it and the juices of the fruit ran down her face and onto her hands. She sat it down to remove her gloves to keep them from getting sticky. She took the half and resumed her perusal of the books.

She pulled a green leather when the north door opened and familiar footfalls filled the office. Her face scrunched as Cullen stood silently. She took a breath of courage and turned to see him looking at her with an agitated expression. She looked at the books then at him. "I know, I know." She sighed. "But I got bored in the library." He stepped closer as she turned away. "I wanted to look at your selection. See if you had anything more interesting. I'll admit, the sonnets were an interesting find-"

She was stunned into silence as his arms wrapped around her middle. His head bowed into her shoulder. His deep breaths almost took hers. He usually isn't this physical in a semi-private location. She turned to look at him. His blond hair blocked her views but could feel his aura of weariness. "Long meeting?" She held his head by the hair and leaned back into his plate.

He took a long sigh. His nose followed the curve of her ear causing her back to straighten and her hips to tilt forward. "Stop eating my food."

She gave a chuckle at his husked order. She turned to see him but couldn't help the smile on her lips. She couldn't very well say she thought it was poisoned by a Ferelden spy. And come to find out it wasn't. "It smelled too good." He grunted and she realized he looked more exhausted than usual. "You alright?"

"Fine." He moved some papers on the desk to search for something while the other reached for the other half of the peach.

"Cullen." She chided with a smirk.

He gave a hard exhale. "I just had to reprimand the men for gambling in the barracks after hours. While on the one hand, it builds comradery as well as unhealthy habits, however, they stay up late to do so. And it's interfering with their work and psychosis balance. And I'm also quite certain Varric has something to do with it. Followed by informing officers that being in senior leadership means willful acceptance of the role as being a mother and nurse to those below them. Honestly." He chuffed as he found the stack he was looking for.

Uthreida snorted. He shot her a look of irritation that she knew, he knew, he was being hypocritical. "Sleeps important, aye?"

"Shut up." He ordered with a grin. "You're not exactly helping." He took a bite of the peach and had to double over to catch the juices that ran down his bearded chin. "How was my lunch?"

"Very good. I think Naan has a crush on you."

"You think so?" He asked with a brow and a smirk of nefarious intentions. "Getting jealous are we?" Uthreida crossed her arms with a smile at his banter. "After all, at least she knows how to cook."

"I can cook." He made a dismissive sound that made her frown in play. "I can make…plenty of stews." He almost spewed the wine at her comment. He forced it down with a hand over his mouth. "And sweet rolls. And tarts."

"Sweets hardly constitute as a healthy diet, dear."

"Works for me." Her hands ran down her stomach, hips, and thighs. Giving a final slap that caused a slight jiggle with a smirk that he shook his head at.

"You're incorrigible."

"Probably."

He rolled his eyes but tilted his head to the bookshelves. "Find what you were looking for?"

"I-" she looked at the books with a lowered brow. "I don't know."

He stepped behind her and picked one off the shelves and passed it to her with a smirk. She looked him over suspiciously but took the book with one hand. She read the title page to show "Records of swords that records shields." She shot him an odd look that he smiled at. "A recounting of military warfare, tactics, and the importance of the potato."

He chuckled at her look of confusion. "It's an officer 'how-to guide'. Not as fantastical as the stories you're looking for, I'm sure. But, necessary all the same." He winked quickly before taking his seat behind his desk. "I'm sure the books you're looking for are actually in Josie's office. Hidden."

She slapped the book shut and tapped the corner on his desk. "It would appear I have some required reading first." She winked back. Sitting on the couch across the room and took up a comfortable spot before reading.

The author was dry at best. Showing more facts than anecdotes that usually drew her away from this particular genera. Looking over the edge of the cover, Cullen adverted his gaze to read a report. A smirk curled her lip as she buried deeper into the couch. Letting the silent minutes tick as she reread passages to stay awake and fight off the immediate yawns.

She looked up again to see him staring at her. She had to look away awkwardly to remind him of the rules of basic courtship. Even if it was to still her fluttering heart and the excitement of catching his attention. He looked away slowly, licking his scar. He stood just as slow, picking up reports, and walked to the couch. He opened a hand for the vacant spot that her feet were on. She complied with a smile. Ready to see what he would do.

He pulled the table closer to him and set the reports down. He sat beside her but respectfully far enough. She went back to her book as he broke seals on his reports. And scooted closer to him.

She could feel his eyes on her as she licked a finger and turned a page. Waiting for his head shake. She scooted closer again. He didn't move. Didn't react. She looked over to see him smiling as he read. Gods, this book was boring. She bit her lip and looked back at him. Cullen arched a brow as he read. A smirk on his scarred lip. He leaned back and casually placed his arm on the back of the couch. Inviting her. His smile grew as he read silently.

She arched a brow and huffed. Now it's boring. She scooted back to the other side of the couch and curled up to read. Cullen dropped his report to his lap and looked at her annoyed. She hid her grin behind a book. Getting the reaction she wanted. He mumbled a prayer to the Maker and resumed his reports.

She reread the same passage four times and found herself nodding off. The book fell on her nose and she was shocked into waking up. She took a quick inventory of her surroundings to see Cullen making faces at his reports. A combination of disgust and confusion with an open hand pointed at it like in question. His lips moved slightly as he read the reports. His brows furrowed in such aghast disbelief of what he was reading. He had to shake his head and pinch the bridge of his nose. "I told them to leave it be. What do they do?" He took a deep breath to calm himself while she smiled. Watching him work and the idiocy of moving troops. And he dared to call her dramatic. He shook his head and dropped the report. She dropped her eyes as he looked over at her. "Can I borrow you?"

She looked up with a confused look. "Ha?"

He lifted the report with a scowl. "Two camps have been taken by Venitori in the Oasis. They're getting complacent."

She gave a pained expression. "Are you asking me to go back into the desert?"

"No. I want you to beat my officers here that are to go into the Arbors within the month. They need proper stress inoculation to prevent future casualties in the field. So, want to help train?"

"Why me?"

"You're formidable."

"All at once or-"

"I'll let you decide."

"Why?"

He smirked. "Chapter six," he looked at the book, "trainers will have to hold back to prevent injury. Attack dogs won't."

She smirked to match his. "So I'm a dog now?"

"You have no reason to hold back. Between you, Warden Micha, and Breaker Thram, even Bull if he wants. Wait, he's still in Du Lion. Anyways, teach them what a real battle feels like. Blunted weapons of course." He shook his head as he looked at the reports. "The Red Templars are moving into the forest as we choke out their bastion. They're getting desperate. And that's dangerous. Our men need to react with decisiveness and capability. You mind?"

Her smile grew. "I would love to. And since we're on the subject," she sat up smiling, "I have a few suggestions on the training."

"And moving on." He finished the conversation and reached for another report. Uthreida pouted and fell back. Opening her book annoyed. A smile crossed his face as he read. His eyes moved slower as if drinking the words. A soft smirk on his lips. His head jerked back to stifle a laugh. She watched with a heat filling her core at his movements and actions. She wanted to know what made him smile like that. Who the letter was from?

His golden eyes caught her and she looked down instantly. Realizing she placed the book face down on her chest she had to pick it up to hide her face from the embarrassment of being caught watching him. She tried taking silent deep breaths to fight the heat on her face. She looked over the book to see him still watching her with his head resting on his hand. She rolled her eyes and closed the book. "Who's it from?" She decided to not hide any longer.

"My sister, Mia. She's making a trip and wanted to see me."

"You should go." Uthreida sat up and looked at him. "It'll do you some good to see them."

He made a pained expression but looked away. Setting the letter aside. "No, I-"

"The war will still be here when you get back. Go. Have some fun. You haven't seen them in such a long time."

"No, I have several-"

"I can go with you."

"No." He stated emphatically. His eyes wide.

Uthreida dropped her smile and looked at him waiting for an apology that he didn't give. "Ashamed?" He opened his mouth to retort but didn't. Making only an awkward sound as he rubbed his neck as his face moved into a pained expression. Uthreida sucked her teeth. "I see."

"No, it's not." He leaned forward and rubbed his face. "I am" he looked about them to check his surroundings before speaking. A tick she noticed when it was supposed to be a secret. "I'm ashamed of what I've done. And, besides, they're devout Andristan. And-"

"I'm Imperial."

He looked confused for a second "What?" but shook his head. "Sure. Look, I-" he sighed and rubbed his neck. "It's not any one thing. And besides, there's no need to get them excited over something that will be- that is, officially, over in " he did a quick count on his hand. "Five months, yea? Look" he rubbed his neck again and leaned back. "It's, it's everything. Alright."

"So it has nothing to do with me being a mage or you a Templar?" His jaw jutted at her reiterating tone. "Or the reason for our marriage or anything else?"

He blinked slowly at her accusation. "It has to do with them asking questions." She arched a brow demanding he elaborate. "About everything else." She didn't move. He gave a heavy sigh. "About Kirckwall. Kinloch. All of it."

Uthreida lowered her eyes and knew what he spoke of. "Things you're not ready to talk about."

"Precisely."

Uthreida sat next to him. Gently placing her hand over his to ask his permission. He turned his hand and let her hold him. "You know they probably already know, right?" He sighed heavily. Meaning he knew that they knew. "Your silence does nothing to ease their fears. You should speak to them. See them. You never know when it will be your last."

"I know." He held her hand tighter.

Something in his tone felt backhanded. "But you won't."

"I don't want them to worry."

"Then write." It was her turn to sigh. "You claim you miss them but are willfully distancing yourself. Write to them."

"You don't understand-"

"Then help-"

"I'm ashamed-" he clicked his jaw shut. Withdrawing his hand to cross his arms. "Just, drop it."

She met his pride with her own. "They deserve better." She said quickly, guilting him into seeing her perspective. She moved back to the other side and laid down. Resuming page eight of the book. She could feel his anger roll off of him. She licked a finger to turn a page with little care.

She tried to let the anger go as she read over the ancestries of the potato farmer in terms of training. Tried not to think of how he didn't want anyone to know they were…friendly but not friends and how it practically reflected her fears and how all of it keeps coming up and wondering if she was projecting her desires or if he was just being defensive and How all of this really matters and after all, why should it a matter given their situation and how on a larger scale of all of it, it really shouldn't be that big of a deal and wouldn't be a deal in Tamriel but Thedas was so different from her home and she wanted this to work but it just seems like no one believed or wanted and started to question if she really wanted or could or anything and at the end of the day was it all worthwhile and just, so confusing.

He grunted as he read with a disgusted pull on his lips. She arched a brow. "Now?"

He heaved. "Royoc will be back in a few days."

She sighed as well. Time to don her armor again. "How did it go?" Her tone was flat as she kept reading.

"Apparently, red lyrium is infected with the blight." She made a sound of feigned interest. Cullen lowered the report to look at her. "Didn't you mention something like that a few months ago?"

"Did I?" She theatrically placed a hand over her heart in false surprise.

Cullen grunted. "I'm surprised you're not jumping and screaming 'I told you so'."

"I can if you like." She looked up to see him smirking but a curl of confusion on his brow. "Ha?"

"How did you know that?"

She shrugged. "History has a tendency to repeat itself. And because I know Ten thousand years of historic warnings and you only have four thousand, it's easy to spot the chaotic mindsets of the Deadra."

He paused for a long moment of silence that made her look at him again. "Ten thousand years?"

"Aye, though, three thousands of those years were all dawn era and nothing was written down, and another two thousand were Mereithic and left to scholarly debate. But aye. Close enough."

"So, wait." He spun to face her on the couch. "How is it repeating?"

"Don't know." He tilted his head annoyed and she sighed. She sat up to have an honest conversation. "Look, it's apparent that the Atherium or lyrium is infected with something. The last time the dwemer found something that powerful, as you claim, was when they discovered the heart of Lorkan. Degaoth Ur infused himself with it for a thousand years and came back starting the divine blight across Morrowwind. The goal was to infect the people with a hive mind that he could control. It was considered a gift because those infected were essentially immortal and could not become infected with any other disease. Given conversations with Micha, it's just like your blight. However, unlike your blight, a cure was found. But, going off the basic theory that the lyrium is the Et'Ada, they are becoming infected by the blight."

"Stop. What is the…whatever you said?"

"Which was…"

"Eta…ah"

"Et'Ada? Earth bones." Cullen shook his head. "To make a long story short, when the world was made... not so short then. So Lorkan, being a spawn of Sithis, had an idea to create the world full of wonder and possibilities filled with beings that could ascend their own capabilities. However, none knew how to create it and turned to Magnus. He used the void places gifted by Mara to birth Mundas. When creation was completed, Magnus discovered that the process robbed the Divines of their power. He told Lorkan who lamented that it was a necessary part of the process. Magnus told Akatosh, the leader of the divines. Magnus and his followers, unwilling to lose their power, escaped from Mundas, tearing a hole in Mundas that allowed the power of Atherius in that helped stabilize the magic of the land. This created the sun and stars. This revelation of Lorkahan's betrayal started the Ehlnofey wars. This is where is starts getting fun, aye? So the Ehlnofey were originally spirits that were too weak to leave Mundas." She winked to show the correlation between her religion and his own. "The ones who wanted the world became the Ehlnofey while the others who wanted to retain their divinity became the Et'Ada. As they warred, the Ehlnofey and Et'Ada that died became the earth bones. Or laws of nature or physics. The Ehlnofey that lived became the mortal races. But, the war ended when Lorkan was caught and was taken to the pillar. Akatosh ripped out his heart for his betrayal and threw it across the land claiming no one would ever find it again by throwing it into the Red Mountain. A volcano. Interestingly, the Avvaar have a story that is similar when" she paused to see his confused face. She cleared her throat to get back on track. "But one is made for the other. His heart was for Nirn and Mundas. And so long as one existed, so did the other."

"What happened to the gods?"

"They died. In their own way. Too much power was sapped. So, Akatosh birthed, well, it's complicated. Shattered, I guess, himself for Alduin, the end of time. Whose responsibility was to end the world and feed the power back to the gods. However, Lorkan's heart will refuse to allow it to be completely destroyed. Alduin may destroy life, but Lorkan will ensure Mundas will carry on. It's said that the heavenly bodies in Mundas are the worlds that Alduin has destroyed before. And life started on another planet. Begining and ending of Kalpas across the cosmos."

He lowered his brows and had to rub his temples to see clarity. "So, what does that have anything to do with red lyrium?"

"It means that the physical earth bones are becoming infected."

"And what do they do?"

She smiled at him with a scratch to her ear. "Uhh, laws of nature. The earth bones provide stability to the ground. Because of their previous divinity, they have the power to pull everything down. But the towers hold, in some circles, the Sky back. They help maintain Nirns position in Mundas. Though, looking at our worlds, it could be to hold Mangus vail of Mundas."

"The towers?"

"Aye."

He looked confused but shook his head. "So they fight against one another?"

"Sort of. They are polarizing forces. Opposites needed for the stability of the land."

"Right. Again, red lyrium? What does it mean?"

She shrugged slowly as she sighed. "The land will become corrupted. It could mean," her eyes widened at a fearful thought, "The bones could become angered and tear the land apart. If Corypheus has control of the blight, if he is, for lack of a better term, the godhead of the hive mind, he could, theoretically, rip Thedas apart. Physically. If enough are infected."

Cullen shook his head. "No. No, he couldn't, that can't possibly happen. Could it?"

"I don't know. But, it would imply that he knows anything of the earth's bones. And none of your texts seem to reflect it."

Cullen looked away in thought. "He's making it." Uthreida lowered her brows at his comment. "Corypheus is making, manufacturing the lyrium. The men have reported that they use the village of Sarhana to grow it. He would have to know of these…Maker, I'm actually starting to believe you. No. No, no. There has to be a different explanation."

"Like how the blight can only infect living things. How lyrium gives off a song. Of life. That song is now corrupted by the blight?"

He looked at her with wide eyes. "How did you know this?"

"History repeats. Just like it's doing now. I see the remaking of the Oblivion Crisis by the tears in the vail. Mehrunes Dagon, through the aid of Mankar Camoran, tried to enter Nirn by doing the same thing. Oh, that reminds me. The nightmare demon they saw in the fade. What do the reports say about it?"

"Why?" He asked suspiciously.

She sighed. "The fade is the land of dreams, aye? It's called a nightmare demon. Vaermina is the Prince of Nightmares. I was wondering if she was the one who they saw. Who the Wardens were trying to summon."

He paused again. "Who?"

She blinked slowly again in irritation that she had to explain so much of what was common knowledge. "Vaermina? The Deadric Prince of dreams and nightmares." He only looked more confused. She rubbed her face. "Do demons have hierarchies?"

"Yes. Wisps to sorrow to sloth to desire to pride-"

"No, I mean, like, slave, citizen, guard, jarl, king."

He arched a brow. "No?"

"Okay, well, to me, Vaermina is the queen of her realm."

"You just called her a prince."

She chuckled. "Princess of Nightmares doesn't exactly have the same effect. So, she is a ruler of her realm of Oblivion like how Sheogorath is the Prince of his… you're not understanding a single word I'm saying, do you?" She took a deep breath. "I'm not explaining this very well. Do you want me to draw a picture?"

He shook his head. "No: This is all getting rather…esoteric. Can we stick to how…red lyrium. What was the oblivion crisis?"

She sighed. "Oblivion gates opened across Tamriel. They were the mean for the Deadramoria to enter Nirn. It's said that the Arginians entered the gates and caused a reverse invasion." She chuckled at the idea of bravery. "They were eventually sealed and destroyed by the Hero of Kvatch."

He looked away. His eyes moving in thought. "Gateways. Between the fade and the physical realm."

She smiled. "Aye, you're catching on. They're both physical, but separated by the Magnus vail and reinforced by the Pact of Kings. Or Red diamond, or Chim-El Adabal."

He looked at her with a slow realization causing his brow to furrow. "Gates. How were they destroyed?"

She puffed her cheeks. "It's said they were constructed by mortals from the whispering of Mehrunes Dagon. To destroy it, you had to enter the plane of Oblivion, battle your way up the tower, and deactivate a sigil stone."

He grew quiet again. His breathing became deeper as he covered his mouth. "Cross the planes." He whispered. He looked at her and she could see the question on his tongue. "What happened if you take a sigil stone?"

She lowered her brows at him. Why would anyone want to take a stone from the deadric realm that could potentially destroy-

Corypheus.

Has an orb. Of destruction. That is a 'Foci for the mer.

Her look of understanding matched his fear. She grabbed him by the face and kissed him. "You are a genius."

He pulled her hands off his face and stood. "Follow me." He held her hand and didn't give her the opportunity to run. He pushed them out the north door and started walking.

"Cullen," she dropped his hand to walk at his side. "If my theory is correct, that would mean he took or has Vaermina orb from her plane. That's why he's trying to…what's his plan again?"

He shook his head. "I wish I knew at this point. As far as we can tell, it's to cause massive disruption across Thedas to make himself a god. We know he intends to do this with the demon army of the Wardens, decimating Orlais due to the distractions because of the Orleasian civil war, and the tearing of the vail."

"Sundering the protection from the land." She whispered. Deadrea would get back in.

"Combined with the blighted lyrium, now creating blighted Templars, Venatori forces, I can only imagine what he's doing."

"The loyal Imperials aren't becoming infected?"

"No," he opened the door to cut across the barracks in the north tower. "If he wants an empire like the history, they will be his loyal subjects. If he can control the blight and the minds of everyone else-"

"Obedient Slaves for the empire."

He gave a nod as he moved. "And now, fearfully, can possibly" a set of guards passed them and Cullen nodded in silence to keep their conversation private. "If what you suggest is even remotely true, he could separate the lands of disissiant slaves."

"Combined with his ideals of dragons." Cullen stopped to look at her. She had to turn to see his confusion. "It's like Rylen said. He's sending his troops to known lairs."

He moved slower to catch up. A hand going to his chin in thought. "Those lairs have red lyrium growing in the vicinity. Is it connected?"

It was her turn to pause. The Niithilin used red lyrium at Adamant. It's a means of the lyrium. Consumed, maybe? "He's planning to make more dragons like her." She whispered. She knew, but now seeing the logistics, made her heart stop. The Templars and Venatori didn't move though. "What are they waiting for?"

They crossed the mage tower as they walked. "What do you mean?"

"The guards aren't moving to put them down. The dragons. They aren't moving to subjugate them. So what are they waiting on? Enough men can fell a dragon. So why don't they move? Why won't they capture them?"

Cullen took the stairs down to the gardens. "It's hard to say."

"Certainly your reports must have said something. Otherwise, why waste time and resources for dragons that they intend to leave be?"

He sighed as they entered the gardens. "I wish I had answers for you. As much as I wish I had an understanding of the mind of a disillusioned mad man."

She smirked, "Best be careful what you wish for."

He chuckled as he opened a door on the ground floor. "I suppose." He waved a hand for her to enter.

She looked at the long room with a high window that let in plenty of light. Crates and other furniture were covered with large cloths. The sound of the door closing made her turn. Cullen walked to her. She smiled. "If you wanted me alone, Valok, you have but to ask."

"What? No, I mean-" he looked down at her in unarmored body and a smile of darker thoughts filled his mind. "No" he stepped off past her and she couldn't stifle the giggle. "I wanted to show you this." He stepped beside a large mirror that rested on the rear wall. "What do you see?" She looked between him and the mirror with skepticism. "It's earnest, I promise."

She looked at the mirror with a brow. "That some vinegar and salt should get rid of the clouded reflection."

"No, Utha," he stepped towards her with a lowered voice. "What do you see?"

She looked back at the mirror and had no idea what he was talking about. Given conversations, it had to do with the deadra, the blight, or Corypheus, but didn't know how it connected.

The sound of the door opening made both turn. Morrigan stood with an annoyed eye roll. "Truly?" Her agitated tone reflected on both of them. "If you truly desire some privacy, might I suggest somewhere else? Away from my things."

Uthreida looked at the mirror then him. "It's hers isn't it?"

"Yes. Lady Morrigan. We were having a discussion and it made me think of this."

She made a dismissive sound as she approached. Her heels clicked even against the carpet. "I see. And what exactly were you discussing that required a tourist stop to my eluvian?"

"Lady Uthreida has never seen one or even heard of it since today."

Uthreida looked at Cullen with lowered brows and a pout. She leaned n to whisper her question of "Elu…El, uh"

"See?" Cullen held a hand to Uthreida with an innocent smile. Uthreida looked at the mirror, then Cullen, then Morrigan with the same expression.

The woman's yellow eyes turned to Uthreida who arched a brow at the woman's vicious smile. "I don't imagine you would have. It's a relic of the ancients. Only those of true historic and archaic studies can even give an idea of what they are."

Uthreida nodded. "Right. Well, given the fact you'll never be allowed to write a paper on it as a mage, perhaps you can fill me in on what it is? Or why I'm here?" She asked Cullen with a brow.

"I could write a paper, Lady" the title sounded like a scathe.

"Do you have a copy?" Uthreida said to cut her off. "Can I read it?" Her face soured at the Nord. "Then teach." Uthreida waved a hand to the mirror. Morrigan arched a row and pulled back. Her purple lips sealed.

Cullen cleared his throat at the tension. "Right. Uthreida, does this look like the gates we were discussing earlier? About the invasion." She arched a brow. Taking a step back, she looked at the mirror. Tilting her head to see something she had only seen in books. She gave a pained look at him. Cullen sighed. "It's a portal. Right?" He asked Morrigan who looked bored.

Uthreida took a quick inhale and saw what he was getting at. She looked closer. The small markings on the side didn't show anything that looked like Deadric writing or divine. But unintelligible. She lowered her brows as she looked. "You have to remember, the gates have been destroyed for over four hundred years. But given what has been passed," she shrugged. "It certainly has the abstract symbolism of the Deadric lettering of oblivion. The letter alone often symbolizes the gates themselves. So, I guess?"

"You guess?" He said low.

She sighed annoyed. "There's no writing to show its deadric or divine."

"It's elven." Morrigan said haughtily. "Not that you would know."

Uthreida lowered a brow at her then the mirror. "A portal?" She said softly. "To where?" She looked at Cullen who looked at Morrigan. "Open it."

"Why?"

"No, you're right." Uthreida looked down at her chest. "I'm not really dressed for it. Is it dangerous?" She asked Morrigan who snorted.

"There are implications," Cullen said with a rub to his neck.

"I hardly would expect you to say otherwise, Templar," Morrigan stated. "Simply because you do not understand it does not mean it's not dangerous."

Cullen shot her a dark look and Uthreida physically snapped at the mage like a dog. "Explain it then."

"Explain to me why you're interested."

She looked at Cullen with a brow. "I'm not explaining the Oblivion Crisis again."

Cullen rolled his shoulders with a cooling breath. "It's a portal that leads to the fade."

"By all the-" Morrigan took her own breath of patience. "No, you insipid toad. It doesn't lead to the fade. It leads to places between our world and the fade."

"Pocket Realms." Uthreida clarified quickly while Morrigan looked more intrigued at the statement. "Does it have the capabilities to lead to the Planes of Oblivion?"

She arched a brow. "Beg your pardon?"

Uthreida looked at her then Cullen. "I thought you knew everything. The planes. Of oblivion. And their princes."

"Spouting random words doesn't make you smarter nor wise, Slayer."

"Enough," Cullen demanded between them. "Stop bickering. Lady Morrigan, is it possible that the ruin you think Corypheus is after would lead him to…realms so he could effectively travel across Thedas by means of the Eluvians?"

She arched an annoyed brow. "Theoretically."

"Now," he looked at Uthreida, "given the crisis of your land, could the eluvians be used to transverse planes of existence between this realm and the Fade?"

"Not just the fade. It's just one plane of-" she eyed Morrigan who now seemed interested. "Aye."

"Oh, no. Don't be shy on my account. What were you saying?"

Uthreida turned to the mirror. If lyrium can be forced, corrupted, can this? She removed a glove and held it to the mirror surface. It was warm. She stepped closer and leaned into it.

"What are-"

"Shhh." She listened to it. No song. No sound. No life. "How does it work?" Uthreida asked over her shoulder.

"With a key," Morrigan stated lowly.

Uthreida looked at Cullen thinking of a stone. "What kind of key?"

"Depends on the door."

The image of dragon claw keys came to mind. Each is specific for their cairn. "Do any repeat?"

"I do not know." the Hagraven said with a mild shrug. "This one is specific to me."

Uthreida looked at it again. "Is it alive?"

Morrigan scoffed. "In a way."

Cullen shot her a warning look. Uthreida stood straighter as she placed her glove back on. "Can they be corrupted by the taint?" Uthreida turned to her in the mage's silence.

Morrigan tilted her head slightly at her. The woman's eyes went to the length of the mirror. A solemn look crossed her eyes as she took in her work. "Yes."

Cullen clenched his jaw as he looked at the mirror. "The crisis in your land. How far did it spread?"

"Across Tamriel."

"And these are located-" he asked Morrigan who held a hand to her chin.

"Across Thedas." The room became silent as each looked at the implications. "Most are sealed. Inaccessible."

"Until Corypheus taints them. Uses the hive mind to corrupt them and bends to his will. Opens them, and can travel-" her eyes dropped to her hands. Her mind rearing back to the letter she read so many months ago from the Psijic. the Inquisition was Thedas best chance. If any Oblivion Gate was open in Tamriel, he could travel. Bringing the blight to Skyrim. "The plane meld is neigh. The plane meld is neigh. As Molag Bol commands."

"What?" Cullen asked.

"It's a song." She looked up. "Different crisis, but ultimately the same. He used anchors to pull Nirn out of Mundas and into Cold Harbor."

Cullen blinked slowly. "How many times has your land come under crisis like this?"

She puffed her cheeks and looked at him. "We're very stubborn."

"I can see that. So," he sighed looking at the mirror. "Now what?"

Uthreida took a deep breath.

"If either one of you says to destroy it," Morrigan scathed, "I will turn you into a mouse and feed you to the cats."

Uthreida smirked. "Why were these made?"

"Transportation, amongst other things."

She touched the mirror again. A sadness filled her. They had the means to communicate and transport to Thedas. But didn't. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. "It would be safer to destroy them. But," she sighed, turning to look at Morrigan. "Why keep it?"

Morrigan crossed her arms and lifted her head. "I wish to preserve the ancient ways."

"And when new enemies circumvent the ancient ideals? When everyone is looking for a new weapon. A stronger sword. A thicker shield. A faster horse. A louder war cry. Then what?"

She took a loud sigh. "Tis always the nature of man to want more than they should be allowed."

"As is their nature."

"And there is an order to nature."

"Aye, An escalation of force."

She shook her head. "If we ignore the past, as the Commander seems so intent-"

"You speak to me, Hagraven." She seethed. "Mind your tone." The mage scoffed and Uthreida wanted to bend her will. She looked at the mirror again with a calming breath. "There is opportunity. I won't deny it. However, to cling to the past without seeing the future blinds you."

"Without the ancient magic's, our world will become without magic."

"Your Magicka is dying anyway. Why delay the inevitable simply for the status quo?"

Morrigan lowered her brows at her. "Because you kill off the old ways. You slay dragons left and right with little consequence of the future."

Uthreida chuckled at the woman. How little she knew. "And you embody the old ways, Hagraven. Blinded by hatred and lust for power. Choosing the platitude of knowing the past predicts the future. But even you know the darkness that will come if these are left unchecked. Which is why you alone know how to use them. Am I right?"

The mage pulled her head back in disgust at the slayer. "You speak of what you do not comprehend."

"As do you. For history has taught me that anything that can be good or bring good will be rendered for pain and torment. You might see something worth saving. From a better time. A better, romantic place. But the reality is, it will turn against you." Uthreida looked at the mirror then at her. "Tell your master to keep it safe. And we'll see if it needs to be destroyed."

"I have no master."

"Yet, hagraven." Uthreida stepped past the mage to the door as Cullen fell in behind her. "As it always is with your kind."

"Is that your husbands tongue, or yours?" she asked behind Uthreida.

Uthreida turned to look at her and Cullen held a hand to her waist to keep her from making a scene. "Let me know when your master grants you your talons. To make it easier to rip the hearts out of men so they can scream 'Foresworn' as they fall to my blade. Again." Morrigan snarled. She lifted a hand and called magic.

Cullen sighed and smote the area. Both women took a pained breath at the smite and he grunted. "You two done?"

Uthreida noticed Morrigan's hands had grown to show longer nails. And she laughed. "So, it is flesh magic."

"Shapeshifting." Morrigan corrected, standing taller and trying to control her breathing from the smite.

"Like animals?" Uthreida said with a smile. "Like a raven?"

Morrigan sucked her teeth with an eye roll. "Careful, Lady." Morrigan mewled. "What would your own master think?"

Uthreida turned to look at her smirking. Cullen looked between them. "What is she talking about?"

Uthreida met the human woman's smirk. If she was as wise as she claimed, she would understand what the Avvar know of what Uthreida is. "How little she actually knows. She may be a scholar of elven history, but has read nothing of her own."

XxX

A week of sleepless nights. Finally, yielding after her scent had dissipated from the pillows and sheets, desperate for another night of sleep. He knocked on her quarters. She appeared in her oversize shirt and a blanket thrown over her shoulders. Both were too exhausted to question as she left the door open for him. He quickly grew accustomed to her nails dragging through his hair as he slept in her quarters even though, as he noticed, she gave wide girth to him in his own bed. In the hopes of not waking him, he assumed. However, her bed was smaller than his creating the requirement for their...cuddling. For lack of a better phrase. And while the phrase was too small and concentrated for what actually happens.

She laid curled into his chest as both slept on their sides. In his state, he felt a hand on her rear while the other hung off the bed. He could feel their legs interwoven as their thighs stacked. Her thick hair bristled his nose at times. While highly annoying, the smell reminded him of home in a way. The hills of Honnleath had thistle growing in some of the fields. He knew it was spring when the sweet smell carried in the wind. Ma taking them weekly to pick thistle to place in the vase on the table and hearth. He felt a smirk cross his face in his momentary consciousness. Uthreida's breathing was heavy in his chest. The warmth of her skin lulled him back into the dreamless state of sleeping.

Cullen was jolted awake when she sat up, gasping for air loudly. Shoving his arm off her, holding her ribs, as she tried to breathe, but her lungs wouldn't open. Cullen rolled onto his back groggily, watching her lean forward, still holding her chest as if wounded.

Cullen looked at the door, then the dark corners of the room, and didn't see anyone who could have entered. He leaned forward, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Utha " Her ice eyes only looked at him with impending death and panic, still trying to breathe. "Utha." He tried again, trying to roll her into her back. She didn't move with him as she was still holding a wound. He shoved her hand off to look at it. Even in the darkroom, her light-colored tunic didn't show any signs of blood loss.

He looked back at her, and she took her first breath. It was deep, but she still somehow managed to choke on it. Coughing at the air. She looked at her hand and noticed the same lack of blood. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to breathe deeper, steadier.

Cullen felt himself breathe. He rubbed her back, letting her know it was alright even as he didn't speak. Letting the grogginess of only a few seconds ago fade back in.

Uthreida looked at her hand, then breathed deeper. Both of her hands went to her face to hide as her breathing was now catching at the heaves indicative of crying.

"Utha?" He whispered to catch her attention. She shook her head, not wanting to answer. "Darling?" His own voice caught as he had no idea what was happening. She sniffled and put her hand back over the wound, not speaking to him. Staring deeply at the ceiling. Cullen rubbed her back to let her know he was still with her. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Go back to-" her voice was severed as if she was choking. She made pained sounds as she curled over the bed again. Cullen moved to check her frantically. Unsure of what was happening now or why she was doing this. He held her to his chest and begged her to breathe. "Lied" she chocked out. "I lied. I'm not fine." She took a deep breath of air and seemed to sag in his arms. Her body shook in the recovery of whatever just happened.

Cullen lowered his brows as he looked down at her. "Utha, what is going on?" She took quicker breaths to fill her lungs and shook her head at his request. "Please. Tell me." She steeled herself as she adjusted on the bed. Cullen watched silently as she moved to the head of the bed, and pulled the covers over her shoulders. Rolling so her back was to him. Cullen arched an annoyed brow. "Utha." He tried again. "Do you want to talk about it?" She growled a throated sound in disapproval and tried to get comfortable. Cullen moved, resting his back against the headboard. Looking down at her, he sighed. He knew what it's like to wake up screaming. To have violent dreams make him afraid of sleeping. "Uthreida, I know what it's like. But you have to talk about it. You have to-"

"I have to do nothing." She scathed. Her anger showed on her face as she turned towards him. "I did not ask nor want your help." She bit at him. Her accent got thicker as she rolled the constants. She opened her arms to him. "Take my tits and be happy with it." Cullen arched a defiant brow at her. She scoffed, rolled back over, and huddled tighter into a ball.

He had three options, ignore it and go back to sleep doing exactly what she thought, walk off in a huff leaving them both the lesser, or actually help. He looked at her. Seeing her defensive and could hear her trying to calm herself, he chose the former. "You've never asked. What haunted me. You've never asked." She made another disappointing sound, holding herself tighter. "When I was at Kinclolch Hold, I was tortured."

"I've heard." She spat.

He looked over at her and frowned. "The demons took the shape of the woman I loved, the hero, and raped me." He watched her slightly uncoil as if in apology. He softened his tone as he spoke. "I watched my brothers succumb to the same fate until one by one, they all fell to their hands. But it wasn't fear. It wasn't apathy. It wasn't jealousy. It wasn't the pride of the Order that did us all in. It was desire. The desire for a life outside of the Chantry. Outside of the chains that we each forged if our own choices and decisions." He was silent, still seeing Jeremy and Anthony fall to their vices. Eyes rolled back and repeated what the demon told them. Watching Gwenith and Francine dueling at the cackling of the demons. Unable to assist as every other moment he was ripped from the physical world to the fade to face Samurila again and again in different places, different fantasies, and different lives. Each time she told him that they could be free if he but yield. Each time his hands pinned. Each time her voice silenced his. Each time he reached completion, the horns would grow and her mouth would be filled with razor-sharp teeth. Each prayer fell unanswered. "Each Templar fell due to the desire to be free and were enslaved by it. In Kirckwall. Meredith valued me solely for my desire to hate and kill mages. I had forgotten what it meant to be a Templar. I had forgotten our purpose to protect and thought it meant only normal non-mages. Thusly, killed everyone else with little hesitation. I found myself becoming really good at tracking and killing mages. I found myself at war with myself. Hearing the rumors of Meridiths declining sanity, believing it, but forced to live the lie that everything, everyone was fine to palisade the masses. I" he scoffed "believed in what she did. And now, when I look at myself, all I see is her. How I followed. How I moved. For her. But. The hate. The blood. The deceit. The desire to be free. It. It's like it stained my skin. Burned and scarred and shaped into something I can't seem to" he swallowed hard. He felt his throat constrict and found it hard to breathe.

Uthreida slowly lifted herself off the bed but kept her face from him. "You see the monster." She said. Not with scorn but understanding.

Cullen felt his eyes prick with tears. Thankful of the dimness of the room. "My sins are what keep me awake at night." He sniveled. Hoping she wouldn't recognize it. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder. He wanted her to know she wasn't alone. And, ironically, this is the exact reason why they started this.

She held his hand. A simple touch. She took a breath and sighed. She took his hand into hers and moved it to her front "When I was with the thieves guild, we discovered that someone was trying to destroy us from the inside. I had climbed the ranks, and Frey, the Guild Master, had noticed all I had done. As the niece of his second, he saw a future for me. He chose me to help him bring an end to the monster who was wounding us. But." She paused, taking a deep breath. "We didn't know he was the enemy we feared. He led me into a trap." She led his hand to her back. Lifting her shirt, she let him touch her. Below her shoulder blade was a thick scar. "Karliah shot me with a poisoned arrow. Frey moved me so I would take the hit, not him." Cullen looked at her, and in the dim light, saw the pain and anguish on her face as she told her story. "As I laid there, unable to move, speak, feeling my life fade away from this world, I discovered that Frey, not Karliah had killed the former Guild Master, Gallus. When he discovered I was still alive" she moved his hand to her front, under her shirt, to her chest where a blade wound was. Where she was clutching earlier. "He tried to kill me. He stabbed me in the chest and left me to die." Cullen rubbed his fingers across the scar. It was just under her heart. The man just missed her heart. "He left me, alone. In that abandoned ruin." She covered her face to hide her shame. She took a deep breath but he could hear her sorrow as she refused to cry. Cullen sat up and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "I-I trusted him. He was our master, he was my master for ten years and he-he" she leaned forward trying to escape his arms but not able to run. "I had never felt more weak or powerless. I" he felt her shoulders tremble as he held her tighter to his chest. "I was an assassin. I should've. I could've" she wiped her face with her hand. She tried to hide or minimize her tears by not breathing. Taking gulps of air as she refused to let herself be hurt again. "The worse part," her voice cracked as she looked away, "I was excited to see my sisters again. To forsake everything. Brynjolf, Balimund, Nirn," She sniffled and held her arms tighter. "And for the first time in a very long time, I prayed to see them again. To see Edda and Hura. To see them again not covered in their own blood. To see my father so he could count my failures one last time. Even if it means eternity in the Dreamsleeve. But I knew." She started to rock herself in her pain. "I knew they were better than me. And I knew I was damned because of my choices." She covered her mouth as she looked at the wall. Cullen could feel her shaking in his arms. "When Karliah healed me, that was when I realized just how damned I really was. To be denied even death."

Cullen sat in silence, letting her breathe through it. Letting her work out her pain and frustration in the only communication they had. Silence.

He understood how she felt. He understood exactly, watching the one you respect turn on you and your people. She slowly leaned back. Melding with him. Her unshed tears, her anguish slowly disappear as she forced him to lean back onto the wall with her still in his arms. Her head fell back onto his shoulder as they sat in silence.

Cullen felt himself smirk. "I hope I'm a better boss."

Uthreida scoffed, rotating herself so she sat astride his lap her head still on his shoulder. "At times" her hands finding him, and lacing her fingers through them. She nuzzled her head against him, letting the heavy silence fill the air. "Now you know why I fight you so much." She gave a chuckle. "Thank you" she whispered. "And, I'm sorry for what happened to you."

Cullen smiled, feeling the warmth and a sense of belonging with her. He was useful to her. And she thanked him for listening, not judging. Yet, another story she couldn't tell another. And at the same time, releasing, putting into words for the first time in a long time what had happened to him so many years ago. "Is he dead?" Cullen asked. "This Frey fellow."

She nodded. "Brynjolf said that he took care of it."

He tilted his head to see her face with a smirk. "You didn't? You didn't walk in there, and decapitate him where he stood?"

She gave a genuine smile at his perception of her. "No" she readjusted on his chest for comfort. "All this happened right after my family-I was arrested and sent for execution. After my first dragon, I just wanted to go home and then," she shrugged. "I kept what I was from my Uncle. I guess I just wanted it to go away. But it weighed heavy on me. Until he was ready to make a pact with Nocturnal to kill Frey. But" she paused, her brows furrowing at the memory, "I couldn't. The Dragon Born isn't supposed to be associated with the Princes. They're heroes. They're-I'm" she furrowed her brows again as she fought with herself. "I told him. He knew the stories. He knew the sagas. He told me to run. To embrace what I am. To forget what I once was." She gave a soft sniffle of her own. "He, allowed me, to fulfill my destiny without the weight of the guilt of revenge."

He listened to her. "Sounds like he loves you a lot."

She smiled. "He was always there for us. Growing up. He was there for me when I" She smiled and chortled as she remembered something. "When I was young, he used to sneak into our farmstead and hide gold." She paused in her story. "My father hated the game. He thought we were hiding the gold from him when we would find it." She sucked her teeth at the memory. "But, I caught him one night. Brynjolf." She said with a smile of pride. "He told me to be quiet and to go with him. We sat on the fence of the farm, drinking milk and enjoying the thrill of doing something I wasn't supposed to." She smiled, her eyes far off into the distance. "However, when I tried to sneak back in" she gave a heavy sigh. Cullen could figure out the rest of the story. She probably woke her father. And, given history, was probably beaten for being out of bed. "I asked him to stop. To stop hiding the gold in the house. He gave it to me. Told me I was on a secret mission to hide it for him from now on. That I couldn't get caught. That I had to be a proper thief and place somewhere where Da could find it. And not blame us. I only later found out, when I had to start smuggling in the gold, that my Uncle had to hide the gold because my father outright refused it. Claiming it sinful."

Cullen licked his scar. He pulled her tighter to his chest. "Betrayal can shatter our world, Utha. But those pieces don't just magically reforge back into a whole. It creates a sore spot." Their hands locked, their hearts beating. How their stories were so similar. So heartbreaking. And yet, so much the same. "We treat these spots with a reserve. A tenderness like a wound. So it won't hurt again. But that tenderness can lead to gentleness if you allow others to see it." He took one hand, pressed her temple to his lips, and kissed her.

He moved his hands back to her shoulders, holding her tighter to his chest. She remained silent. Leaning against him, and holding onto him. "You're really good at this."

"Agree to disagree." She chuckled softly. "It's okay to be weak. It's okay to falter. But we can't stay there long."

She leaned into him. "Melchonoly is always a welcoming friend." She turned slightly to see his face. "Is this the part where you tell me you'll always be there to protect me?"

He smirked. "No. But I won't let you fall either."

"Is that why I have to ask for contact? Why you hate being touched? Because you were raped?"

He paused as he looked down at her. "Yes."

"I'm sorry. That I assumed too much." She looked away. "Tell me if it's too much. Soft spots and all." She looked back at him. "You're right though. About the soft spots. About gentleness. You don't blindly hate mages. Why you abhor lies. In your fear of becoming her, you have become more."

Cullen rubbed her back gently as she drew lazy circles across his chest. "Speaking of. Did you lie to me earlier?" Uthreida physically stilled in his arms. "Utha?" he asked with a playful tone.

She gave a sigh. "Aye. I did."

"And then, you started choking." She cleared her throat and tried to move but he held her back. "Does that usually happen when you lie?"

"I refuse to answer that."

"Uh huh." He said with a smile knowing he was right. "So, ethical question. You're sarcastic. How is that not lying when-" she quickly moved her hands to her ears to silence the question that would make her question her ethics and capabilities. Singing a low song to not hear him. Cullen sucked his teeth while she was being childish. He pulled her fingers from her ears and forced her to listen. "Explain."

She sighed deeply. "It's too late for this-"

"Utha."

"Fine. So, sarcasm is technically, a lie, however. The tone that is used makes it so obvious that it is a lie that the truth can be understood from the lie."

Cullen grunted at her philosophy. "So, I've seen you lie. An omission of truth is still a lie."

She gave him a disappointed look. "You've never met a dragon, have you?" Cullen lowered his brows at the question. "Never mind." She said with a shaking head. "Look, give me some agency. Some allure of mystery." He gave his own skeptical look. "Truth has power. Hiding truth is a hiding of power."

"All the more reason."

"Not if I'm talking to a general of an invading army." She looked him up and down quickly. Her accusation cut off as she yawned.

One he mimicked. "Fair." He released her and laid back down on the bed. His arms and blanket open wide for her to take. She looked down at him, as if uncertain if she should. With a bite of her lips, she knelt down to him. Placing her head in the pocket of his shoulder. Her hand gently touched his chest. "May I?" she barely whispered.

He pulled her closer, tighter to him. "Please." He said around his engorging heart in his chest as she asked. Needing to feel her acceptance again and her scent in his lungs. He kissed her temple. Feeling her hand travel across his ribs as she clutched at his shirt. Holding his shoulder to keep her own sanity. And all Cullen could feel was useful, wanted, and needed as his heart raced. She loved monsters. Maybe, he wasn't different. Maker, please let him be enough. Let this be enough to hold him through the memory loss.

Xxx

Uthreida sat in the library with Dorian as she forced her way through Cullen's book. She made it to chapter six in four days. Gods, this thing makes her want to sleep more than the scrolls of tax codes wanted to pluck out her eyes.

Movement below caught her attention. Varric, Solas and Royoc stood in the study of the rotunda. Cole appeared on the table and she smiled at the boy. "Royocs back." She said over her shoulder to the Imperial. There was a definite sucking of teeth and the sound of moving cloth. She looked over to see him standing.

"Excuse me." Dorian stood and approached a man who came up the stairs with an uncharastieric serious expression. Pulling him aside to speak in hushed whispers. Uthreida arched a brow at the mage and kept watching below.

"Shingling in the moonlight. Paint your face, ice brain. Smiles with experience of eyes that made you smile as a girl. 'Septum's with my name of them.'" Cole appeared beside her, sitting off the ledge with his legs dangling precariously below them. "I am alright, Uthreida."

After the initial shock of his presence, then the shock of his portrayal of Brynjolf, she sighed. "Blessings Cole. How was your trip?"

"I am me."

"You were always you."

"I am free."

"Freedom is always welcomed."

He looked away. Silent as if listening. "Scared of the paths before. Unsure where they lead. Healing or pain and both well welcomed. Safe in the secrete and feared in the light."

Uthreida blinked and her heart pounded faster at the thought of Cullen. A heat flashed as she thought of his hands, skin, and his shy smile. She smiled at the boy. "Yes. Things are….well. Thank you for asking."

"You fear for the dragons."

She paused. "Also true."

"But they do not want you. Separate but apart of. Like the shaft and the wheat in your da's garden."

She looked about them and saw people near. "Quite, Cole." She said softly. "Less they learn."

"Right. Your pain that you can't share. But it needn't be so."

"It must be, friend." She smiled. "For them to see inspires fear. And we can't have that. Especially when you are trying so hard to help them." She tilted his hat slightly to see his face.

He smiled in his soft distant way. His ghoulish eyes looked at her with a tilted head. "You help too. Safe and solid, protected and proud. He feels like quiet, stronger when you hold him. Warm as fire and sweet as heather. Untamed and soothing."

She blinked quickly but smiled. "Oh, good, so we are talking about this."

"You don't want to?"

She stood to her full height at the banister. "No, it's," she sighed as she looked below. "You're probably the only one I would accept advice from on this. Go on. Get it off your chest."

He smiled as he looked away. Listening to Cullen's mind. "Broken, blinded, branded, bridled. Courageous, control, content, confide, Laugh, loud, lament, lost. Shield, sword, scars, smirk, Fight, flee, fly, free."

Uthreida laughed softly at his poem. "Interesting."

Cole tilted his head as he looked at her. "You are afraid to let the gods see. You fear she will take him like they took your da, Edda, Hura, and Farkas. You want him to live. Without you, if you must."

Uthreida lowered her eyes. Her smile fell from her face. "All mortals must die, Cole. Our time is measured. Victory or Sovngarde."

"But he won't go to Sovngarde."

Uthreida held a hand to her arm to hold herself. "I know."

"He-"

"I know." She said softer. She looked away. Trying not to think of how Mara was taking this too.

"You help," Cole said softer.

Uthreida looked at the boy. His hat dipped low to hide his face. A hope filled her that caused a tear to well in her eyes. Cole saw it. He saw or felt or heard how she was helping someone. She didn't know if he meant for Cullen or for the whole. But it was worth it. That something she did was worthwhile. A smile that was marred by holding back tears covered her face. "Thank you, Cole. That means more to me than anything. Thank you."

His hat tilted as if in a bashful smile. But it slowly faded. He looked down at the rotunda to see Varric and Royoc leaving. He blinked as he watched. "I hear it clearly now. See it more colored. I missed it before. The brightness glared but now, now-"

Uthreida blinked and he disappeared. She smiled at the boy's usual antics and let it go.

Dorian returned and slipped her a piece of parchment. He leaned against the railing with her. He arched a brow at it but gave a concerned look at her eyes. She looked away to regain her composure before smiling at the mage. He arched a comical brow but said nothing. Uthreida waived it off. He took a breath but nodded to the parchment again. He tapped the railing and resumed his seat in his little alcove.

When he was a distance away, she opened the parchment. It was a contract for a ship. Transport of people from Amaranthine to Minrathous was set at six hundred royals per person. She folded the parchment and stuffed it in a pocket. She took a deep breath and wondered when she was going to be paid again. Realizing she was debiting Dorian one whole dragon.

She wondered if he found the most expensive and was wondering if there was a cheaper alternative. But she did say no questions asked. And ship voyages across the entire continent wouldn't be cheap. She sighed and let it go. Fine. Dorian can have one whole dragon if it meant his freedom. He can have it. Do not hoard wealth. Offer help when you can. So says Stenddaar. So it shall be.

XxXxXxXx

Pouring over the maps of the region, trying to find a way to make sure the resupplies made it to the Exalted Plains before the Red Templars knew what was going on. The pass between the mountains would make the best location. The natural chokepoint-

He felt it. The tear in the fade. It was right next to him. He looked and saw nothing. He felt the change in the atmosphere like the lightning before the storm. There wasn't a cloud in the evening sky. He could smell the thick smoke and his heart raced. Oh no.

He dropped everything, spilling ink over the books and his note as he rushed to the ladder.

The smell of the smoke was getting thicker and his blood was rushing. His heart was palpitating faster than it should be. He was halfway up. His breathing was becoming irregular and shallow. Climb. His lungs were constrained. Few more. Climb damnit.

He felt his body get hot, insufferably hot as the fires were chasing after him. The ash wraiths were after him.

He reached the landing and fell on the floor. His battle skirt was on fire. He could smell the smoke. His body was hot. He struggled to remove his armor. The formal vestments were dragged off and his body wasn't listening. His hands fisted tight, his movements were restricted as his lungs couldn't get any air. He was going to die from smoke inhalation.

He was too hot. His useless hands tightened from the fear couldn't undo the buckles on his armor. He was going to die in it.

He fell to his hands and knees, both shaking from extended use from climbing the spiral stairs and running through the streets. Maker, why is it so hot.

He felt his arms give below, a wave of nausea and lightheadedness was filled him as his chin hit the floor. Maker. He crawled. He crawled to the chamber pot ready to throw up what he could keep down that day in Green Leaves.

His hands shook reaching for it, and it was gone. A wave of nausea over flooded him. He forced his useless arms to push himself up as he heaved. His lungs wouldn't open. He couldn't breathe to vomit the demon's poison. Damnit all.

He tried to remember the mother. List the things that are blue. He looked frantically and only saw the tower being taken over. He shut his eyes. One of them touched him. He forced himself on his back and shoved it off. "Don't touch me, demon."

He opened his eyes and saw the flesh sacks of corruption. Shutting his eyes, he tried to focus his mind. Why is it so hot? He needed to move. His brothers were relying on him. He had to move. His muscles, sore, exhausted, shaking, stood. Only to fall over again. Maker. He moved to get his burnt belt off but his hands fumbled at the attempt. His heart was beating faster and all he could feel was useless as his brothers and sisters died around him. Useless hands. Useless legs. Useless Templar. He pulled himself up into a kneel.

"Hear now, Andraste, daughter of Brona,

Spear-made of Alamarr, to valiant hearts sing

Of victory waiting, yet to be claimed from

The steel-bond forgers of barren Tevene."

His lungs were sealing shut. 'Find peace in the chant' the mother had told him. 'Find your peace to find your freedom.' Maker, he was burning alive in his armor.

"Andraste seeks an end to the suffering of the Alamarri

Great heroes beyond counting raised

Oak and iron 'gainst chains of north-men

And walked the lonely worm-roads evermore.

Mighty of arm and warmest of heart,

Rendered to dust. Bitter is sorrow,

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

The demon touched him again and he shoved it off. Vile creature. He tried to breathe and the air not filling his lungs between the smoke. "You will not have me."

"Why must the Shield of Alamarr shatter

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

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

To the wintry halls of strong mountain-kings,

Where in days forgotten, voices there raised

Might be gift'd answer and those seeking find."

He broke his prayer to try his armor again. The buckles weren't right. He had worn this armor for fifteen years, where in the void are buckles?

"The Alamarri gods do not answer

From sky-tearing peaks of the sacred mountain

To secret-steep'd roots of the ancient oak trees

A lonesome choir, I, song failing unanswered,

Voice on wind returning, answered no more."

He opened his eyes. Blue blue blue. Blue stitching on the blanket. Count the stitches. 1,2,3,4,5 Maker why is it so hot.

"Andraste despairs for her people

In heart's drumming, I heard footsteps thund'ring

Shield-brothers and spear-sisters distant raised

Blade to shackle-bearer, valiant of spirit

Blazing like star-shine, to battle they charged.

None to return to the lands of their mothers

By cruel magic taken, ice, lightning, and flame."

Blue. Her eyes. Her eyes are blue. Her tattoos are black. Her hair is copper. Maker, this is how he was going to die.

"Should for all seasons laments ring the sky-vaults,

Should dirges all sages and histories replace?

By gods forsaken, fate emptied of hope,

Wounded I fell then, by grief arrow-studded,

Never to heal, death for me come."

Maybe this was it. This is the moment where he goes insane from the lyrium withdrawals. This is the moment where he becomes a drool-addles lunatic forever to walk the world between insanity and fear.

"Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken

There 'pon the mountain, a voice answered my call.

"Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing,

An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown.

You have forgotten, spear-maid of Alamarr.

Within My creation, none are alone."

His lungs were failing. The smoke, was too much. His brothers, his men, they needed him. Haven will fall if he doesn't get up. He felt himself choke on the smoke. He had to do something.

"Lo! My eyes open'd, shining before me

Greater than mountains, towering mighty,

Hand all outstretch'd, stars glist'ning as jewels

From rings 'pon His fingers and crown 'pon His brow."

Why is it so damn hot? His mind raced, hearing the screams from the enchanter's chambers, watching the statues in the gallows move closer to him. What was she thinking? This is madness.

"Sword-shattering fear filled me overflowing.

Grandeur of godhood no gaze should defile.

Trembling, I called out: "Forgive me, Most High,

I should sing Your Name to the heights of heaven,

But I know it not, and must be silent."

The Wellspring of All said, "None now remember.

Long have they turned to idols and tales

Away from My Light, in darkness unbroken

The last of My children, shrouded in night.""

He was going to vomit. His head felt light. His knees were ready to buckle again. Maker, this is it. This is how he was going to die. With awful in his trousers and vomit on his shirt.

"World fell away then, misty in mem'ry,

'Cross Veil and into the valley of dreams

A vision of all worlds, waking and slumb'ring,

Spirit and mortal to me appeared.

"Look to My work," said the Voice of Creation.

"See what My children in arrogance wrought."

His body was on fire. The embers floated and he could smell charred flesh in the air. Maker, no. not again. He bit his hand to hand on to some form of reality. Allowing the pain to hold him to the world.

"There I saw the Black City, towers all stain'd,

Gates once bright golden forever shut.

Heav'n filled with silence, then did I know all

And cross'd my heart with unbearable shame."

She could help him. She could end this. She did it before. She could do her shout thing and force him to calm. Where is that damn insufferable woman the minute he needed her? Couldn't she tell he needed her right now?

"Andraste begs the Maker to give mortals another chance

Then did I see the world spread before me,

Sky-reaching mountains arrayed as a crown,

Kingdoms like jewels, glistering gemstones

Strung 'cross the earth as a necklace of pearl.

"All this is yours," spake the World-Maker.

"Join Me in heaven and sorrow no more."

His lungs were fading, his throat choking out all he had known. His world was fading to black and he did nothing to save his brothers. He was powerless to save his sisters. His charges. The smell of fresh blood, the taste of the acrid of the demons, and the heat of the fires burned his skin.

""World-making Glory," I cried out in sorrow,

"How shall your children apology make?

We have forgotten, in ignorance stumbling,

Only a Light in this darken'd time breaks.

Call to Your children, teach us Your greatness.

What has been forgotten has not yet been lost."

The demon reached over and touched his face. He swatted at it, his backhand making contact. "Do it! If you're to kill me, then kill me."

"Long was his silence, 'fore it was broken.

"For you, song-weaver, once more I will try.

To My children venture, carrying wisdom,

If they but listen, I shall return."

He felt his lungs fill with air. Maker be praised. He felt the air fill and spread throughout his body. He felt the world grow a little larger as he did.

"Let the blade pass through the flesh,

Let my blood touch the ground,

Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice."

His reached his hands out to grasp the bedding, clutching it as tight as he could, feeling the texture of the fabric beneath his fingernails.

"Those who oppose thee

Shall know the wrath of heaven.

Field and forest shall burn,

The seas shall rise and devour them,

The wind shall tear their nations

From the face of the earth,

Lightning shall rain down from the sky,

They shall cry out to their false gods,

And find silence."

He felt his body become his again. The war, the fear dispersing in his time, and felt his body become weak. Racked from exhaustion. All this faded as he sobbed his weakness into the comforter below him.

"Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls.

From these emerald waters doth life begin anew.

Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you.

In my arms lies Eternity."

He took a breath. A deep one. Maker, it's passed. Thank you Maker, it has passed. He laid his head on the bed, letting the silent tears stream from his eyes as the panic passed. His heart still pounding in his chest but it was softer than before. Calming. He was sweating profusely and getting the blanket wet from sweat and tears.

"Cullen"

He jumped at the sound of his own name. His body was so weak, he was thrown back onto his elbows.

Uthreida stopped from the bed, a copy of the Chant of Light dropped to the floor from her lap as she slowed her approached him but stopped. His copy of the Chant lay forgotten on the floor.

Maker, how much did she see?

She kept one hand out to show she wasn't a threat but kept her distance as if he was.

He swallowed hard and rolled himself onto his side. He had never been happier and more petrified to see her. Shame washed over him as he lifted himself up. He looked down at his armor, half of the buckles were open all over himself. He gave a sigh and proceeded to remove them. Starting with his pauldrons from under his arms. Moving in silence. She let him. She didn't move to jump to his aide. She didn't move from the bed. But simply sat there, watching him unbuckle the gorget from his breastplate. He dared a look at her as he lifted it. She looked sad. And afraid.

He bit his lip as he removed his vambrace "what happened?"

She was silent. He removed his gloves, throwing them in the same pile. "I feel like that's a trick question." She said softly. "You either already know and want to trap me, or you want to wash yourself in shame."

He had to agree with her assessment. He often blacked out during these. Unsure of what had happened and often ashamed of the stories he's told. After removing the breastplate, he pulled the leather shirt over his head taking the linen undershirt with it. He threw it on the pile and laid back. The coolness of the room hitting his bare skin chilled his overheated body miraculously. Maker, it felt good. "I'm sorry," he admitted to her. Then his mind had another question. "How did you get in? I didn't see you enter earlier." He lifted his head to see her sitting on the bed, looking over him with the same patient expression.

She gave a soft chuckle. "You did, actually. But apparently, the maps are more inviting than I am."

"Ah." He laid back down. His body was exhausted from the trial. He took a deep breath, letting his body become one with the wood floor. The belt was biting into his hips and back. He forced himself to sit up, looked at his legs, and grunted. He undid the buckles around his knees and boots. "Judging from your distance, I owe you a bit more than an apology." She quietly reflected, her head tilted as she thought. His eyes were drawn to his chant of light as he removed his belt. "Were you, guiding me through my prayers?"

Her eyes turned to the same book. "No. it was on the table, fell over when you stood."

He smiled painfully. The Canticles of Andraste are often used in times of trials and hardship to remind of the beauty of the Maker. He nodded and looked her over. "Thank you." She gave a single nod while still sitting on the bed.

With his lower armor removed, he wanted to apologize properly but still didn't know what to say. And given the silence, neither did she. He gave a groan and he forced himself to stand. His knees buckled under his weight but caught himself on the footboard of the bed. He gave a hard sigh. He hated his part. His muscles would be taught for the next few days as his body, apparently, seized up during his episodes. He sat on the bed. Close enough to touch her, but far enough away where it would be a hassle for him. He rubbed his aching thigh, running his thumb over it to massage what he could. "What did I do?" He asked again. Maybe this time, she'll answer.

She was silent, watching him undo the lacing of his boots. Finally kicking one off into the pile of armor. "You said some mean things." He paused. Locking his jaw. He will never be able to apologize properly to her because of this. This whole sleeping arrangement was a terrible idea. "You also said some nice things." He scoffed. The 'mean' things obviously outweigh the 'nice'.

He finished his second boot and looked at her to apologize. But the words escaped him when he noticed a red mark on her cheek. "Maker" he raised his hand to verify it was his. She recoiled at the motion.

That was all the proof he needed. Maker, no. Not her. Not like this. He pulled his hand away from her. He looked away, shame and guilt riddled his exhausted form. "I'm so sorry, Uthreida. I" he had the swallow the guilt as it ravaged him. "I'm so sorry."

She sat there, her own guilt on her face. She shouldn't feel this. She shouldn't look at him like that. It was him. All him. And his damn stupid decisions. Not her. "You begged." She said softly. "I refused because you hate the calming shout." She paused her eyes on the spot where he was a moment ago. He could imagine that she could still see him there, doing, whatever he did. "You were biting yourself and" the way she bit her lip told him she was still hiding things from him. "I got scared. So" she shrugged.

She stood silently. He watched her walk away from him. He wanted to beg her to stay. That the nightmares were worse after. He wanted to feel safe and protected. Protective. Wanted. He wanted her scent just-just one more time.

But he let her go. He let her walk away without him. He let her slip down the ladder. He let her slip from his view. He let her go.

He threw himself on the bed. His hands covered his face. She saw it. She saw his waking nightmare. And he hit her. In fear and panic he- touched her. And now, she's afraid of him.

She trusted him.

He trusted her.

And now.

Now what?

He felt the exhaustion of the night take over him. He felt his body meld with the bed. He looked to the ceiling one last time for answers. Finding none, he shut his eyes.

He felt his body being pulled and opened his eyes to see Uthreida holding his arms in front of him. "Utha? What?"

"Sit up." She ordered.

His muscles too strained, he did as she commanded with her assistance. "You...came back?"

He arched a comical brow. "I never left your office." She moved him so he rested on the headboard. "I went to get you food, but lo and behold, you didn't eat the evening meal. Again." He chuckled at her. He was already at the war meeting when it arrived and by the time he got back, it was cold and stale.

She offered him the bread but he waived it off. "Nauseous"

"Because you haven't eaten. All day if I had to guess."

"No. I"

"Please" Cullen opened his eyes to see her pleading with him. She offered the roll again. With a shaking hand, he grabbed it, ripped it in half, and ate some.

His eyes closed again as he ate. "Thith isth the besth bread." She gave a chuckle as he ate. He chewed slowly, letting his tongue get accustomed to the texture before he swallowed.

She laughed to herself as he ate. He opened his eyes to see what she was laughing at. Her eyes were on her hands. He gave a grunt to ask what was funny. "It's nothing." As he ate the other half of the bread, she held a bowl and used a fire spell to heat it up. "You don't have to eat it, but at least drink the broth. The nutrients in the water will help you." He took the bowl with both hands knowing she wasn't going to let him not eat.

With a smirk and shaking hands he lifted his bowl in a toast. She gave a chuckle as he used the spoon to hold the food back and drank one sip at a time. The herbs were too strong for his weak stomach. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Why are you here?" She was silent to the response. "I-I hit you, didn't I? I must have done something-"

"What are you talking about?"

"You have a red mark. On your face."

She was silent again. "Oh, this from sleep. You shoved me, a few times, but you didn't strike me. To be honest, I didn't know 'bitch' was in your vocabulary."

"Then why did you jump."

"I was scared" she stated bluntly causing him to open his eyes to look at her.

"Of me?"

"For you." She reiterated. "I've seen soldiers struggle with Warrior Sorrow. Each one handles it or comes out of it differently. I had never seen you like that before and didn't know what to expect." He looked at her again, a small smile curling on his lips. She's scared for him. "Drink your broth before it gets cold. Again."

He did as instructed. Letting the warm broth slide down his cold core made him shiver. "Why is it so cold?"

"Because you ripped your shirt off and have a gaping hole in your roof that you refuse to fix."

Lacking the strength to laugh, he gave a deep-throated chuckle at the woman's apparent deep-seated hatred for his roof. He took a final sip of his broth and set the bowl aside. "You're being really understanding of the situation. Are you planning to use this against me?"

She looked offended before she looked away. "First of all, I know the guilt of not accepting someone in a time of struggle because of their flaws. And my refusal to see those flaws. Second, how can I possibly use this against you? Cullen, you were a Soldier who was expected to follow orders. It's expected that you, as well as I, suffer from Warriors Sorrow. To what end would I use this against you? For what?"

"For whom?"

She gave an annoyed expression only to have her features soften at him. "How does this situation look to you?"

"Like I'm weak." He said honestly.

She leaned forward in a laugh. "Quite the pair we make. I seem to remember some Commander something or other telling me how weakness builds humility and trust and something something Maker's breath."

Cullen smirked at her teachings from him that he was forced to learn from Cassandra. "Oh, be quiet."

She sucked her teeth at him letting him win this bout. She shook her head in shame at the man. Her mirthful eyes moved over his torso, bad back to his face. "Do these happen often?"

Cullen took a breath of honesty. "Not as much. This one-I don't know. I was doing...something it was triggered."

"What does it feel like?"

He thought for a second. "Have you ever heard of a double envelope?" She shook her head slowly. "Imagine a line of infantry with full wall shields creating a circle around their enemy. As the infantry move in closer, the circle gets tighter. The enemy within the circle can't move. They get crushed by their own people. Causing them to suffocate. You're afraid to move because each move sends another soldier into the blade of the infantry. You can't move, can't breathe, and each action has a horrendous outcome. The problem with double envelopes is that it can take hours to kill the enemy and the outside edge will always have plenty of spears and swords."

Her eyes were empathic as he spoke. "Sounds terrifying." He gave a slow nod. "It's okay to be scared sometimes. We all are. But being a warrior is the willingness to fight even through fear. To accept that fear is a choice. And sometimes, it's the only decision that can save our lives. As dishonorable as it is."

Something in her sad tone made Cullen take her hand. "Darkspawn?"

She looked away ashamed. "But you still have to take care of yourself. And I'm not your healer. So eat. Your food. When it arrives." She pointed at his chest to punctuate each word. "Cold or not." She gave a disappointed sigh as all he did was smirk at her. "I can go into my culture's details about death, fear, and courage. I can name runes and spout off stories of the heroes of old. But you won't listen. So, shield walls require everyone's shields interlocked. This isn't a 'get better or get everyone killed' speech. That wall, it's made up of your friends, family. Anyone you rely on. We're all here for you. And to be quite honest, if you need to take time for yourself, take time for yourself. We all want what's best for you. I know the cooks do. You have more bacon in your bowl than everyone else." Cullen smirked at the comment but felt her words warm his heart. Her hand slid into his and he felt his heart stop. "Hold the line. You're almost there." Her smile of encouragement almost made him believe it. "Now, get under the covers before you catch a cold."

"I know"

"Then act like it." She stood to leave him but he held her hand tighter. Not wanting to end this. Not wanting to let her go. He couldn't look at her as she looked at him like he was pathetic.

"You've been so kind to me tonight. I truly hate to ask. And I understand if you won't. But um," he gave a hard sigh and let her hand go. "The nightmares are always worse after" he clenched his jaw, pulling the covers from under him as he followed her last order hoping she'd see what he was asking. She didn't move. He licked his lips and swallowed his pride. "Will you stay? With me. Tonight. Please." He couldn't look at her. She'll laugh or deny or walk away again. He didn't know if he could take it again.

The soft movement of her feet circled the bed to the other side. Her side. He looked away. She was going to stay on her side and that's fine. He just wanted her to be close and-

She pulled the covers up and moved in. Closer to him. Her back rested on the headboard as she laid beside him. She opened her arms wide. "Well?" She gently placed a hand on the back of his head to guide him. Moving her hair from her shoulder, he laid his head on her chest, unsure of what to do with his hands as he tried not to touch her breasts. One of her arms went under his neck and wrapped around his shoulders while the other played with his hair. His ear, pressed to her heart, listening to her body and her breathing. "I like your hair like this."

"A mess, I'd imagine?" He said, fighting the fatigue of the night.

She vigorously shook her hand to mess it up even more. "The curls are adorable. I wish you would grow it out." He let her have her small fun before enveloping himself in the scent of thistle and holly berry. He smiled at her calming presence as her fingers kept scraping his scalp.

She started to hum a tune. A lullaby if he had to guess. He could almost feel the salt being rubbed into the wound. But her voice, like everything else about her, was calming him. "Are you quite serious?"

"You disapprove? I'm afraid I don't know any Ferledan lullabies. Perhaps you can sing me one." Her voice lit with a smile he knew. A smile that he wanted to believe was more contentment like the one he was wearing. Believing her next line was "take it or leave it "he only nestled further into her, allowing his arm to cross her middle. She started to hum again. Her fingers lazily rubbed his scalp and back. He felt the release of the day. Falling further into her song. Into her. Feeling protected, understood, and wanted by her as his heart was beating without care. Without restriction. His hand clutched tighter on her shoulder as his smile grew. The sweet song of her keeping the wolves away as he slept.

Xxxx

Uthreida watched with a brow as the Inquisitor crossed the courtyard. Standing on the ramparts, she watched as Cole had flashed a … Uthreida shook her head. "You ever notice how the Inquisitor walks." Cullen arched a brow as he dismissed a few Soldiers for duties. He stood next to her but kept his distance. Watching the same thing. "Like he had a rough night with Bull."

Cullen snorted but hid his smile behind his hand. "I have been trying to not laugh at that joke for a year, but thank you for bringing it up."

She stood and smiled. "That's why I'm here. I think." She stepped off and waited for him to catch up. "You wanted to speak?"

"Speak, get some fresh air." He chuckled as she climbed the stairs. He looked over the mountains and smirked. His eyes closed as he breathed. "I wanted to thank you."

Uthreida looked at him with a smirk. "Oh?"

"Between the lyrium and war, I, just, that is." He rubbed his neck. "This sounded much better in my head."

Uthreida chuckled and leaned against the wall. "It usually does." She looked him over. "I take it your feeling better?"

"Much. Yes." He looked over the mountains again. "There are times when I feel like I'm back there. At Kinloch or Kirkwall. And" he sighed.

Uthreida smiled at him. "Warriors sorrow affects each of us differently."

He looked at her with a lowered brow. "How do you, are you-"

She looked at him and saw his question. "Drinking helps. As does sleep. When I can get it." She looked him over slowly with a knowing smile. One that made him blush. "And you? Are you-"

"I am. Thank you." He looked off over the mountains'. He cleared his throat quickly.

"How is the pain?"

"It comes and goes."

"You know, I might know a potions that can help? Standard health potions back home help soothe the effects of addictions like to skooma. It might help."

He smiled at her with his wrist on his pommel. "I'd appreciate that. However, I also wanted to thank you. I-" he sighed. "I never really told anyone what happened to me in the circle. By the time I made it to the Gallows, my anger and fear had blinded me. I'm…not proud of the man I became."

Uthreida stood slower to look him in the eyes. "Hawke mentioned a blade. After reading the story, did being around her make you-" she waved a hand to allow him to answer indirectly.

"I don't know. It's a question that has haunted me as well." He looked at her. His brow lowered as he looked away. "The way I once saw mages. If we had met before this, I-"

She smiled. "You might have actually stood a chance then."

He didn't see the joke. "You would've been disgusted by me." He said softly. His brows furrowed in pain.

Uthreida looked away. Taking a smaller step towards him to study the mountains. "And you wouldn't? Be disgusted by me? Ten years ago. Five years ago. Kynes kiss, three years ago. We are who we are now. Let's focus on that." She smiled and held his pinky with hers as they leaned on the ramparts. "We mortals are meant to change. Over time, even a river will smooth out a boulder." She squeezed his finger in hers. "I think at this point it's obvious that I care. Against my better judgment."

He didn't smile at the joke. "Even after-"

"Even after." She looked over the mountain. Noticing his shy smile as he looked away. "If it's any consolation. You're a good man. And I'm proud of what you have accomplished. Even if you stumble in this blind society." She joked and saw him roll his eyes with a smirk. "Even if I tempt you with the chaos once more."

"Amen to that." He looked her overin accusation. Both smiled but looked away to hide their emotions. "How are you holding up?"

Uthreida took a deep breath. "I'm frustrated. Between the red lyrium, dragon I didn't kill, darkspawn, and now this" she waved a hand between them that made him smile. "I can't decide if this is the best vacation, or the worse ever. No, worse. At least Solstheim had proper mead."

"Well, between you, the Inquisitor, and the men, the Inquisition has made great strides. And there is no doubt that you have had a part to play in that." Uthreida smiled bashfully and looked away. She tried to pull her hand back but his one finger held her tightly. "I thank you for your efforts, Utha."

She looked him over with a smirk. "When am I getting paid?"

He sighed and released her hand.

XxX

If it wasn't for the awkward mornings, this would be nice. The nights were easy enough. Swallow his pride and go to her. Ducking the men on patrol, making him question how well they're trained, doubling back, avoiding contact and communication with people, using the excuse of "need some air" as he wondered the castle in the evening without armor. He was beginning to question if Liliana has more invisibility poultices she gives her scouts but knew she could read between the lines.

But this. This! Is becoming annoying.

And extremely awkward.

And, sadly shameful.

Cullen was fully awake at this point and gritting his teeth at her. Not wanting to leave, but wanting her to stop. It was uncomfortable enough and he was pinned between her and freedom with the wall to his back. And if he learned anything, he won't get out of this easily.

He groaned inwardly. Her rear was pressed to his lap, causing a nice, albeit shameful, warmth to his manhood. He was afraid that he would, for lack of a better phrase, poke her. She would get upset, call him a pig, and sever this...whatever this was.

He needed to maintain some control. He could, by all rights, just get up and leave. Maker knows his bed is better for them as it didn't require constant touching.

But it was nice to be enveloped in her. And an annoying amount of numbness and frustration from her.

Cullen scooted his hips away from her as casually as he could. Finally. He was free of her. He readjusted to allow some comfort as he was lulled back into sleep.

She came back, moving her hips so her rear was rubbing against him. Cullen frowned again. Is this supposed to be funny? Because it's not. It's very uncomfortable. And awkward. He started to understand the ridiculous chivalrous love stories where knights slept with an unsheathed weapon between them and the lady. Better to lose it than to face this aggravation.

He scooted away from her again. Meeting the wall to his back. Finally a few moments of - WOMAN! STOP!

He wanted to rip the pillow from under her head to place between their...hips...to stop her...friction. He used his hips to push her away from him so he could lay on his back. But the way she was holding his arm to her chest felt like she was pulling it from its socket.

He can endure this. He can totally endure this. He didn't need his shield arm. He's fine. Totally fine.

Until it hurt too much.

He looked at the back of her head and felt the urge to growl. Maker, grant him patience. He used his torso to push her away from him. To spring his arm free. It didn't work. Maker. He was forced to roll on his side, again, and endure. Finally, he was allowed to sleep.

He felt the warmth return. He kept his eyes closed, pretending that he didn't notice and thought she would grow uncomfortable on her own. She rolled her hips again causing him to suck in air.

On second thought, if she wanted this, it's on her. This is her fault. If she wants to get angry, she can blame herself. Cullen ceased to care. He was here for sleep not...not her...sexual...whatever she was doing. With a breath he let it go. He nuzzled her neck to get her scent to fall asleep again. Her back arched and pressed herself deeper into him.

He scowled at her. What in the bloody...there's no winning!

"Staaap" he groaned, his voice thick with sleep. Her only response was a sleep-induced moan.

His body grew stiff at the response. He leaned up to check to see if she was even awake. Her breathing pattern was normal. Her eyes were closed. Her lips slightly parted as she curled against his arm. His heart stopped seeing her clutching his arm, over her heart. Between her breasts. She was holding him. To protect herself.

He gently untangled her arms from his. And for a fleeting moment, he felt freedom. He used his shoulder to gently nudge her off his shoulder and further onto the acre of bed she had. He then pressed her hips down so she was laying on her stomach. Away from him. With a grunt.

Oh, thank the Maker. Finally. Rolling onto his back, he succumbed to blissful, blissful sleep.

She was doing it again. Cullen slowly roused. He was on his side again, holding her like before. And like before, she was rubbing against his-

That's it.

Far too tired to care, he loosened the lacing on his trousers so his cock could find some comfort. And tried to sleep again. To no avail. Her hip was digging to his and causing a painful curl. With yet another scowl, grabbed her by the cleft of her ass and lifted. His cock rested on her inner thigh. Relieved from pain, he threw his arm over her midsection and went back to sleep.

She kept rubbing against him. "Maker, I just want to sleep," he thought out loud. Enough is enough. He leaned back and smacked her on the rear. Loudly. Accidentally.

She rolled away and looked at him with confusion. "Shores, what?" Her demand fell somewhat given the exhaustion in her voice.

"Go to sleep." He yawned, rolling on his back.

She had a disgusted sound as she rolled on her stomach. "I was, you milk drinker." She garbled from the pillow. Then growled. She continued to mutter obscenities as she got comfortable again.

Cullen sighed and he arched his back on the bed. She deserved a better explanation. "Just, control yourself. Please."

"From what?" She growled from her pillow.

"From" he sighed hard, grinding his teeth. "Rubbing against me."

He could feel her anger raise in the moment of silence. She rolled onto her back to scowl at him. Both of them shoulder to shoulder. He lifted his leg to hide his shame. "It's a small bed, Cullen. Some touch is going to happen." She seethed.

"You were" he felt his own frustration rise from the situation. But too much of a coward to say anything. "Just, never mind"

"No no. Please, Cullen. What was so important that you had to rudely wake me up just to tell me to go back to sleep. Please. I have to know." If the sarcasm didn't cut him, her tone of death did.

He looked at the ceiling, wishing the universe would collapse on itself already as her hateful look bored into his soul. "You were" ugh "grinding." He finally admitted to the ceiling. "On my person."

The awkward silence filled the room. He looked at her. She looked ready to hit him. "I'm going to punch you in the throat." She stated finally. "I can't believe you woke me up for that." She argued as she rolled over.

Cullen took a deep breath to vent his frustrations. This woman-

"Wait." She rolled back over to look at him. With a hand to her mouth, and had a look of remembering. Her eyes finally settled on his face. "I'm sorry. That was rash and...Hurtful. I'm sorry. I had forgotten your history and the fact that you don't know the teachings of Dibilla. But ah, I can't promise it's not going to happen again. If it does, just wake me up. Nicer. Hopefully, I'll be a wee bit more aware of your needs and won't growl. As much." She rolled back onto her side, making sure there was space between them as she lay on the edge of the bed.

Cullen looked at her in confusion. What just happened? Whatever. Good. She'll sleep over there and he'll be over here and what was that about? What did she mean 'his history?' Was she referring to his rape? No, it's not like that. It's just, while they are technically married, well not technically. There's no formal commitment between them. For another to see his body ready to reproduce without…committed bonds of even possible matrimony was a sin in the Maker's eyes. What she was doing was a precursor to compilation. And that-

"What do you mean?" He asked. She was slow to respond so he shook her shoulder. She moved further away only to scoot closer when she hit the edge. "What did you mean?"

"Ha?" She groggily asked.

"What do you mean 'my history' because this has nothing to do with my...rape at the circle?"

She half rolled to see him over her shoulder. "I...assumed as much." Her eyes blinked slowly at him as she was trying to be cordial during this.

His mind blanked while he looked at her. "Then what did you mean?"

"You know, that you're," waved a vague hand at him. "You know." Cullen shook his head at her, unsure of what she was going on about. "Cut." He has cuts, but what is she talking about. Her eyes jutted from him to his torso, then back to him. He squinted his eyes at her. What is she getting at?

"Words"

She gave an embarrassed smirk. "I was told Templars have to take vows of Chasity." He was ready to correct her but needed her to finish. "And those that take the vow of Chasity to the Maker are cut." Cullen only looked more confused. Is she thinking that Templars engage in some sort of blood curse? She swallowed hard. "Root and stem."

Cullen looked at her innocent features and understood what she was saying. He opened his mouth to clarify only for the laughter to emanate from his stomach. He bit his knuckle to keep himself down and he was forced to lean forward to laugh. It took him a few tries to calm himself, but when he met her gaze, all he could do was laugh again. He didn't want to say she was completely wrong, but she was. After one more cleansing breath, he had to ask while not looking at her. "Are you suggesting that, that you believe, oh Maker, you believe Templars are eunuchs?" He couldn't keep the smile from his face as he asked.

"That, that would be just... silly." She said, over her embarrassment. Cullen dared a look at her sheepish expression as she went to any length to avoid eye contact. "Not all of them. Given the history of the Kirckwall circle." Cullen had to bite his lip to keep from laughing too hard. "Well, this changes the dynamics of our relationship." She muttered.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Help me here. How- why- who told you that?"

She looked at him only to look away again crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "I don't want to answer that."

He chuckled. "Varric?" She sunk her head lower causing him to laugh again. Templars were visiting the Blooming Rose. And he knew it. Maker. "Okay, so" he lost his words between fits of laughter again. Maker, she's naive. "Walk me through the process, why would Templars need to be eunuchs?"

She shrugged. "Vow of Chasity. What better way to ensure?"

"Fine but" he waved his hands to make a point and the words were escaping over his desire to howl in laughter at her. "You never confirmed this with an actual Templar, did you?"

She threw her head back and sighed. "No"

"So you're just going to believe everything Varric says to you?"

"He's very persuasive!" She argued in a defensive tone, her hands moving to make her point.

"Oh Maker" he tried to stop laughing. Honest. "So, you're aware there are female Templars, right? So how do they, hypothetically, you know, get 'cut'?" Her jaw jutted forward as her lips became a thin line. Cullen's eyes grew wider at her silent confession. "You didn't-?"

"I…didn't think to ask."

Cullen fell back laughing. Uthreida took his laughing as well as one could expect letting him have his fun. "You, Maker, you, my love, are a pearl amongst diamonds." He laughed again feeling her become more humbled by the minute.

"Aye, so, you and your...other chastity-based friends aren't eunuchs?"

"Maker, no." He sat up on the bed again to look at her. "We're allowed to get married. How-how would that work in your world."

"You said the vows were optional. I assumed-" She gave a hard sigh. "I did not know this."

He gave another chuckle at her misinformation. "Alright. Let's, let's talk about this. I'm, yes. There is a cut. It's a sacrifice of ourselves onto the Maker. However, it's a practice required to be done at an early age. Expensive, and usually only done to the nobles. Or those given to the Chantry at birth. Circumcision is required to be completed within eight days of birth. I'm from a farming village and joined the order at thirteen. My sacrifice was leaving behind my family and possessions. So I'm not, cut, in any way."

He looked over at her to see her still confused face. "What are they cutting on nobles if they are required to have heirs?"

Maker, this just got a whole lot more awkward. Cullen rubbed his neck in thought. "They uh" he cleared his throat. "The foreskin."

"The wha-?"

Cullen cleared his throat again. "Of the, uh, penis" he gave a sheepish look at her as he looked dumbfounded at him.

She shook her head. "Varrics story has a lot more credibility than this." She ran a hand through her hair to understand. "So, the nobles get cut. Like in half?"

"No. No." He could feel the heat of his blush reach his neck and ears. "It's just the foreskin."

"Which is?"

"I'm not demonstrating or drawing a picture if that's what you're asking."

She paused. "It'd be helpful." She muttered. All he could do was chuckle at the awkwardness she wielded like a weapon. Finally, she just sighed and shook her head. "You people are barbaric."

He arched a brow at her heresy. "Us? You're covered in tattoos."

"Aye, with the symbols of my gods and my people. I'm not chopping off a finger. Here Shore, enjoy. The gods don't care."

"It's not the finger. It's, it's, the tip."

Her eyes grew wide. "That's-hang on, so, do you mean tip," she asked, using her pinky to the first joint "or tip," she asked, pinching the nail bed of the same finger "or tip" pinching the uppermost part of the pad.

"It's not-" he threw his head back on the headboard, biting his lip and wishing he didn't start this. He looked at her curious expression and sighed. "You know, right? You know." She looked at him incredulously and shook her head as if the whole point of this conversation was that she didn't know. He waved a hand to his lap and looked at her expectantly. "You know?"

Her eyes followed the gesture, then gave an awkward smile. "Aye, I've seen a few cocks in my day."

"Right." He cleared his throat again as memories of his youth on bath days with the other boys filled his mind's eye. And the mocking that came with it. "Right. It's the bit that" this is harder than it looks "that overhangs the head" his hand gestures went helping him keep his cool "whilst flaccid that gets cut. Everything else is left alone." She gave a deeply pained expression as she folded and crossed her legs to him as if hiding herself from his blade. She even gave a calming breath as if she had to endure it herself. "Right?"

"That is just. Oof, I don't know how I feel about that. Uh. That. That is" she paused looking at everywhere else but him. "What about the girls? What's their sacrifice?"

He gave a chuckle. "They aren't. They already suffer from, what you call, moons blood."

She gave a look of comedic misunderstanding. She shook it off quickly as she looked at his hands. "So, hypothetically, if, let's say the chantry goes to Skyrim, aye. Would converts need to do this?"

Cullen took a deep breath as he considered it. It's been a while since any Theosdian has had to convert like that. "No. I don't believe so. Not if they convert by choice."

Her brows raised as she looked at him with skepticism. "So under forced conversion-?"

He saw where she was going and hung his head. "Yeah, probably."

She nodded her head. "Just be prepared for mass slaughter. Just fields of blood, cocks, and tounges. Just be ready."

He chuckled. "Alright, so, why do you believe that Templars are eunuchs? Just because some of us take the optional vow of chastity?" She blinked slowly while forcing her lips in a thin line. She gave a growl like she didn't want to answer. He laughed at her again. "You should really talk to more people than Varric and Dorian. Cassandra, maybe?"

"You and I both know she wouldn't have gotten through that any easier than you did." She admitted. Slumping further on the bed.

He had to agree. "You're not wrong. Look, yes," he shook his head at her "root and stem would be efficient, however, do you not think people of honor will fulfill their vows. To the Maker?"

"Do you not think people will abandon their oaths for the first promise of power they find?"

"That is what defines honor. Yes." She waved it off. He looked down at her. He sat up a little straighter. Understanding how she saw the world. He looked away from her. "They are Templars. They are to protect-"

"And how many times has protection been a thin veil for tyranny? For betrayal? You can blind yourself if you like, but don't bite others who see the world with both eyes."

Understanding how many times she had been betrayed by those she swore to. Cullen shook his head. "Normally, I would agree with you. A few years ago, I would have agreed with you. But here, now." He shook his head. "I have to hope that people are better than they were."

"I'm curious, of the Templars in your ranks, who took the vow of chastity, and who is still chaste? Of those, do their charges feel safe with that person? Of those who didn't take the vow, how do they release the stress?"

Cullen swallowed hard. He started to understand why she thought they were cut given the events of Kirckwall Circle. The raping that happened from Templars to mages that he either cast aside finding the punishment suitable to the crime or that went unnoticed. How they were afraid of them. Causing more fear. He had to admit, if the Inquisition were to rebuild the Order, they would need to make sure that such actions could never happen again. "I think I understand where you're coming from."

She sat silent as if her words changed the aura of the room. "My apologies. I-"

"I know. And you're right. To a degree. But pessimism keeps you safe. Optimism keeps you hopeful." She arched a brow as if she had something to say, but kept it to herself. "I know you have suffered from betrayal at the hands of everyone around you. And, if I may be so bold," he paused, waiting for her to look at him. When she did, she held a neutral expression. "I think it's honorable that you want to protect people from the same fate." She looked away from him. Her eyes scanned the wall before them. Cullen took a deep breath. "Now that I'm fully awake, I think I'll take my leave. To summarize, Templars aren't eunuchs, and please, stop rubbing up against me in your sleep."

She gave a groan and crossed her arms. "Alright." She said. Her tone sounded like a child being forced to play nice.

Cullen looked down at her in question. "What?"

"Ha?"

"What?"

What!"

He groaned. "Why did you say 'alright' in that tone?"

She sighed in aggravation again. "I just agreed. What more do you want?"

"Truth would be spectacular."

She groaned. "Look," she readjusted pulling the pillow from behind her and laying it in her lap. "It's simple alright. Dibilla teaches us to find happiness and truth in the warmth and grace of these to whom we might find love and passion." Cullen raised his brows at that last statement. She noticed. "Love has more than one form, Cullen. Pay attention. The beauty and artistry of the world are all due to Dibilla's hand. The small intricacies make us stop to appreciate small things-"

"This story have a point?"

She sucked her teeth at him. "Your cock on my ass is just as comforting as my tits in your face." Her bluntness finished with a forced smile.

Cullen was stunned silent for a moment as he looked down at her. His body felt like it was engulfed in flames at her confession. He wanted to say something witty and charming but all that came out was "uh"

She smiled at his attempt. "Give me your hand." He did without thought. She placed her hands over his so their palms were touching. "Dibilla didn't make us to say 'ugh, you're bigger than me'" she motioned to his hand that was bigger than her own. "But rather to say 'we have so much in common and look'" she rotated her hand slightly so her fingers laced between his. Clamping down to feel his knuckles. "'We fit.'" She looked at him to see if he followed. "Dibilla's love isn't found specificity in beds. It's found in conversations. Philosophy. The arts. It's found when people can look beyond face and form, and find beauty and grace within. To propagate peace and tranquility." Cullen slowly licked his lips as he looked at their conjoined hands. She began to let go, but he held her tighter, not wanting to let go. They fit.

He didn't know why that one phrase resonated with him, but it worked. That's why this has made so much sense when it didn't seem like it should. They fit.

"Your goddess of beauty," he said softly, his eyes still on their hands, "what, um, hm" he wasn't sure how to ask this. How comfortable was Uthreida with the male form? Why is she comforted by his...manhood? And, why did it feel like a weight was lifted off his shoulders?

He slowly looked at Uthreida who was smirking. "You want to know if the temple is a brothel, don't you." She asked with a smile.

Instead, Cullen leaned towards her, wrapping his arms over her shoulders, pulling her down onto the bed, and arranging themselves like they were before. Holding her back to his chest as he allowed her to straddle his lap. She didn't fight it but he could tell she was curious about what he was doing. In the silence, he gently took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together as he smiled. "We fit." He whispered into her hair.

"Physically" she whispered back. The smile in her voice destroyed any wedge she was trying to make. Cullen smiled at her, his nose going to the base of her skull and softly taking in her scent. "Do you want me to move over?"

"No" he whispered, shaking his head. "Are you,…okay with this?"

She relaxed after a moment, melding into his form with a little more ease. "Aye."

Cullen held her a little closer. She was okay with this. With him. With HIM. "Why didn't you just open with that?"

"Ha?"

He pulled her tighter to his chest playfully. "That you just like me for my dick?"

She scoffed at his antics. "Like all other things, it's a wee bit more complicated than that. In case you forgot, I didn't even know you had one before tonight."

He let his thumb draw across hers in thought. "Then why?"

She took a deep breath before responding. "It doesn't matter now."

"Why?"

He could feel her breathe again before responding. "It's just a waste of time. By the way." She said in a lighter tone. Reaching behind and spanked Cullen in return.

He recoiled from the hit. "Ow. That was all hip."

"I know" she retorted, shaking off the pain in her hand from the bone-on-bone attack.

Xxx

Uthreida abruptly sat up on the bed. Cullen was pulled out of sleep to see her sitting up, and looking around her surroundings. A look of concern on her face. "Utha?" he said sleepily. "Wha's going on?"

She whispered something. He couldn't make it out, but she surveyed the room more intently and below them. She looked like she was looking right through the bed into his office. With furrowed brows, she took a deep breath. She shook her head and sighed. "I'm sorry, I" she scoffed. "I guess I just dreamed it."

Cullen watched her with a curious look. They stayed there for a few moments until she scooted herself closer to him. She looked embarrassed and ready to apologize.

Then something caught the corner of her eye. Her head turned in an instant to look at the hole in his roof as the blood drained from her face. He arched a brow as she looked at the ceiling of her quarters. He heard her clutch the sheets of the bed and her body grew taught. She tilted her head in annoyance. "Hermueas Mora." She smirked. "You know you should not be here?" Her tone was light, smirked, and superior.

Cullen looked at her like she had lost her mind finally. He looked at the candles that were on the walls, then the place she was looking, and only saw the stone.

Uthreida gave a chuckle. "I mean, how did you get here? You shouldn't have the strength to cross Oblivion let alone be here." Her tone was light but her friendly tone was masking something else.

She was silent for a moment then scoffed. She waved a hand dismissively at the air. "Be gone spirit. You are nothing here." She turned back to Cullen and tucked herself back into the covers. She moved as if to get comfortable. Cullen was still looking at her crazily and trying to plan to escape.

"Silence." She ordered, then softer "I'm trying to sleep."

Cullen arched a brow and looked at the ceiling again. Either this was a memory or. He lowered his brows. To ease his own mind, he called a cleansing aura around them. He looked at the ceiling and almost screamed.

A black ball of eyes and tendrils floated above them. Its mass held bits like the tears in the Fade. Its center eye, like a goats, saw him.

Cullen pushed himself back against the wall. Having no sword or shield near him, all he could do was look at the abyss that floated above them.

Uthreida seemed to notice his breathing and movements. "Valok." She breathed, slicing his panic. He looked at her quickly to see her hand reaching for his chest as she was neutral, but smiling sweetly at him. Wanted him to lay with her again. He dared a glance at the monster.

A black tendril moved, grabbing him at the ankle and pulling him out of the bed. He tried to grab at the footboard and slipped. All of the blood rushed to his head as he was suspended by his leg. He looked at the floor realizing just how high his ceiling was.

"Leave him," Uthreida ordered lowly, a dagger and hand as she stood on the bed, her eyes meeting it's with a glair.

"Of course." It said, its voice sounding like dripping water from the mouth of a drowned man. Cullen could only hear the blood pulsing in his ears as the monster released him, dropping him to the floor. He tried to roll and landed on his side. "Give me what I came for." Uthreida was silent as she stared this beast down. Cullen looked quickly and saw his blade by the armor rack. He dashed, unsheathing it, and drew it on the monster.

"You will submit, little dragon." It said in the same dripping voice causing a chill to run up his spine.

A black tendril circled her throat. She only raised her chin in defiance. "Kill me, and you have nothing." Its tendril tightened, but she didn't fight it.

Cullen grit his teeth and move to slice the tendril. The monster recoiled slightly and shoved her against the stone harshly. Utha rebounded quickly but kept her ground.

All the eyes turned to Cullen. "Mortal, you dare-"

"Don't" she warned wrapping an arm across his chest to stop him. Her eyes pleaded at him to drop the weapon. His eyes lowered to the pink around her throat. She looked back at the beast. "Forgive him. He doesn't know."

"He will" the demon stated in malice.

Uthreida shoved him back onto the bed and took the blow from the beast, throwing her across the room. Her head hit the trunk on the opposite wall as her body molded around it. Cullen wanted to call out to her, but it would draw attention to them. He watched her slump to the floor before feeling the rage in his chest. The demon used another tentacle to wrap around his throat and raised him off the ground. Cullen centered himself and smote the demon before him. It gave a sound akin to a chuckle. Cullen felt his eyes go wide. That should have weakened it.

He looked to Uthreida who was laying on the ground now, her head bleeding. Cullen started to hyperventilate even as he was being choked. He swung the blade and sliced at the tendril that was holding him. The monster released him and Cullen dropped to his feet. He moved to keep himself between her and the monster. "Know this demon, all shall fall in the Maker's light. I-" the beast began to laugh. The graveled sound reverberated off the stone as its main eye closed in the act.

He heard Uthreida stir behind him. He wanted to lift her up. To make sure she was alright, but he couldn't turn his back on it. Cullen called forth smite to his blade and saw the remaining vestiges of the lyrium in his blood light the blade. The Demon's eyes closed at the light. But it was too high up for him to strike.

Shadows moved in the corner of his eye, and he had only seconds to dodge. He rolled, and kept low, ready to cut it down.

He heard a large drag and saw Uthreida being lifted by the arm. "Slave." It called. Her eyes open in fear as she looked at the demon. "Give me what I came for." Cullen watched as she was hyperventilating. Even then, her chin was tilting down and she was only looking at the main eye. "You are mine."

"I will never be your slave, Hermus Mora. You will not do to me what you have done to them." She took a deep breath. "Gol Hah Dov." The creature only laughed. Cullen looked at the bed then at the woman and tried to come up with a plan. Turn the catapults onto the tower. Bring it down. "Gol Hah Dov."

The demon dropped her. She fell on her feet then her rear. Leaning back. Cullen ran to her, picking her up and pulling her behind him. "What is that?" he seethed over his shoulder.

"I am the Prince-"

"Fuck you" she yelled over him. "I will not aide you in this. These people are under my protection. Even from you." Her voice was deeper than he had heard. She held a tone of authority that, under different circumstances, would make Cassandra stand at attention. She pulled herself from behind Cullen who held her arm. She resisted and stood tall before him. "Gol Hah Dov" she shouted again, letting her hands fist at her sides. "Leave this place and never return." Her voice growled at the command and every inch of his skin raised at the sheer power of it.

In a moment, the blackness started to roll in on itself as the tendril was left as a spiral until it disappeared into nothing.

Cullen looked at the corner of his room in fear. What was that thing? That thing didn't match any records of any demons he knew of. What just happened? He gripped his sword tighter as he looked at the woman next to him. She was clutching her head as a rivulet of blood ran down her face. "What. Just. Happened? What was that-that thing? How does it know you?" He grabbed her by the arm to prevent her escape.

The door in his office swung open. "Commander." His eyes were drawn to the noise but looked at her in silence. Her eyes were hardened for battle as she looked at him. "Commander Cullen" called again. Solas. His voice was on the verge of panic. Cullen swallowed hard. How? Why? He clenched his jaw.

Uthreida snarled. "Take care of it." She whispered low, pulling her arm away from him. She jutted her chin to the ladder.

Cullen looked at her with hate and anger. If Solas was here, he knew there was a demon on the grounds. He would want to investigate. He'll see her. Everyone will know she sleeps here. Everyone will know. Everyone will talk. Everyone will kill them.

He flared his nostrils in anger. Releasing her, he threw his sword on the bed and quickly went to the ladder. "Solas" he called, trying to keep the panic and anger out of his voice.

"Commander. I just had a disturbing feeling." Solas said as Cullen slid down the ladder in nothing but his linen shirt and trousers. "I was in the Fade and noticed a demonic presence in the area. You're area. I had to come and see if you were – what happened to your neck?" Cullen's hand went to his throat. The redness of being lifted by that thing must be visible. He had a split-second decision to make. He looked at Solas who looked confused and full of piety. "Commander, is everything alright? Do you need to talk?"

"You said something about a demon?" Cullen pressed. "I think that's more important."

Solas looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary. With a cleansing breath, he pushed his own aura to sense the veil. The elf opened his eyes slowly. With a confused look on his face. "It's-it's presence is gone. The veil is stronger than it was a moment ago."

"It could still be on the grounds. I'll have the men scour the area." He said walking to his desk to pick up something. "I'll have the Templars investigate every inch of the keep. If we find anything-"

"Commander,-"

"Thank you for the warning. But that demon could be anywhere. We need to search-"

"It's gone. Commander." Solas said over him. Cullen looked at him. His usual composure dissolved for a more concerned one.

"We could still widen the perimeter. Move through-"

"Commander." Cullen met his gaze. Solas looked away for a moment, then looked him square in the eye. "What were you just doing before I arrived?" Cullen looked away, the maps and guard rotations on his desk. He could move Ser Thedus's team to scour the area for the demon. He should do this anyway regardless of what Solas said. Or his secret upstairs. Solas took a few steps closer to him. "You, of all people, should know that death pushes the veil." Cullen saw his eyes cut to his throat again.

Cullen swallowed hard. Suicide. He thought Cullen was committing suicide. He was silent as he looked the elf over. He stood there, with hands at his sides, ready to assist if needed. Cullen stood tall. He had enough sins, he didn't need another. But he did need to hide why he had bruising on his neck. He needed to hide her. Cullen looked away and took a deep breath. He's already in for an ounce, may as well go for the pound. "I wasn't trying to kill myself. If that's what you're thinking. I wasn't trying to commit suicide." He said softly. Trying to come up with the next stage of this little plan as he went. He took a deep breath. This will not go over easy. "I was" Maker, forgive him. "Masturbating." Solas only arched a single brow. A ghost of a smirk on his lips. His usual demeanor returned within a moment. "Autoerotic axephation. Gone a bit awry, if I had to admit. Sorry" He said, rubbing his neck in shame. This is the lie he chose. Sighing inwardly, he knew he had to throw the man off the trail. May as well run with it. Make it a man talk. Here's hoping he understands. "It wasn't A orgasm. It was THE orgasm. Of a lifetime. You have no idea." He said chuckling, trying his best to remember the same excuses Templar Uleric had told him a few years ago when he stumbled on the same situation. "It's better than any drug you've ever had. I've ever had. While not a comprehensive list, it's still, uh-" he said with a smile. Solas looked at him with an amused smile. Cullen wasn't sure if he was selling it right. "Look, all I'm saying is, you cut off the oxygen supply to the brain, your dick gets unbelievably hard." Solas held a light fist over his mouth to hide his smile. "That's why when you go to the gallows all the men have these huge, donkey cocks and ejaculate when they die." Solas was doing his best not to laugh or show it on his face. And there goes any and all respect the elf ever had for him. Wrap it up. "It's like having a foot in heaven." He tried to make his voice sound dreamy as if it actually just happened. "Just pure euphoria."

Cullen watched as Solas had to take a moment to collect himself before speaking. "Viradath aline a' suliadon." Cullen arched a brow at the elvish words. "It roughly translates into practiced death. Your definition is new, the act is not. Though, highly irregular in human cultures, I would imagine."

Cullen gave a small chuckle. "Depends on where you go."

Solas gave a nod in understanding. "If I may, the ancient elves practiced this as a means to impress or to grow closer to Dirthamin. It was practiced on their knees so that if it, as you say, goes awry, they can easily recover. I would suggest you practice the same methods. And a thicker belt." His eyes cut to his throat again. Then smiled kindly.

Cullen rubbed his neck. "Thank you. I'll take it under advisement." There was an awkward moment when he knew that Solas was judging him with a smirk on his face. "Don't suppose I can, request, uh discretion? In this matter." Cullen cleared his throat, unable to meet his gaze.

The elf pulled at the vail and took a step closer to him. Cullen recognized it as healing magic and allowed the elf to come near him. Solas put his hands on either side of Cullen's neck. Both looked away from each other as the elf worked. Cullen could feel the elf's hesitancy as he would deduce that Cullen was getting a fetish off the idea. After what seemed like an eternity of torture and humiliation, the elf lowered his arms and stepped away. His arms going behind his back. "As if it never happened."

Cullen took a deep breath, his eyes going back to the guard rotations. "I'll have my men sweep the area, just to be sure the demon is no longer on the grounds. Thank you, Master Solas."

Solas gave a slight bow with a smirk on his face. "Of course, Commander."

As the elf turned to leave, Cullen could already see him telling everyone in the inner circle what he just told him. Cullen had a feeling he was about to have a larger wardrobe of belts by the end of the month. As well as a few pointers from Bull and awkward conversations with Dorian to follow. Maker, and Royoc. He would deliver his belt in person. Maker preserve him.

With a deep breath, he walked to the southern tower and informed Ser Thedus to conduct a sweep of possible demon presence. He wanted a report in the morning over what the team had found.

Returning to his room, he looked at the ladder. And felt the anger of earlier still fresh on his mind. Cullen took the time to lock all three doors to his office as he came up with an interrogation plan for the woman. "Uthreida" He said softly, "come down please." There was silence, and he realized that while he went to Ser Thedus, she could've escaped. She could be anywhere in the castle. She-

She slid down the ladder. Her blue eyes looked around determined to find something. Her jaw set for a battle. Cullen took a breath and approached her. "I need you to trust-"

"What the hell happened tonight?"

"Cullen-"

"Don't 'Cullen' me. Explain. Now." She looked around the room as if she didn't have time for this. "I have men scouring the castle looking for the demon that you called."

"Called?" She scathed in disgust.

"What was it? What did it want?"

She looked at him in malcontent, melted into annoyance, then sighed into resignation. She bobbed her head as if she owed him this. She looked him up and down and gave a heavy sigh. "Before we begin, I want you to know that I trust you, and I had hoped that after everything, you have learned to trust me. So," she gave a hard sigh, "I know you don't know what happened, but do you trust me?" He arched a brow at the comment. After everything –"Cullen" her voice shaky. "I want to tell you, but" she looked away with a clenched jaw. "You have a tendency to only see black and white. I've had to make choices that I'm not proud of. I want" she reached a hand to him, only to pull his hand from hers. The hurt in her eyes was momentary. She took a breath and steeled herself. "I will not be shamed for the choices or the enemies I made." She stepped away from him, rounded his desk, and sat in his seat. "What are your questions? Know this, you interrupt, I stop talking."

He walked to his desk and place his hands on it. "What was that thing?"

"Hermeus Mora. But, that's impossible."

He lowered his brows. "Who or what is a…whatever you just said."

"He is the Deadric Prince of knowledge and fate."

He squinted at her realizing he was falling through a rabbit hole. "A what?"

She smirked. "What you call demons, are deadramora. The army of the prince of the realm to whom they serve. They are the evil or neutral offspring of the creation calamity. For ease of purposes, assume the fear demon that the Inquisitor fought and abandoned in the Fade, was a Prince. It is my belief that that demon was Vermeana. The Prince of Dreams and Nightmares. And she is frightening." She leaned forward in the chair. "There are other planes of existence. Other planes like the fade. Layers stacked within Oblivion that mortals can enter if they choose. One of these is Apocrypha. The realm of Hermus Mora. I've personally visited and was not a fan."

Cullen shook his head. "I ah, what?"

She took an audible breath. "Imagine a tower that has twenty-three floors and is the size of Fereldan. That is Oblivion. On each level, is a Prince of that floor. To access, you need a key, or a ritual to enter. Once you cross the door, you are in another plane. Make sense?" Cullen shook his head. "Think bigger." He only arched a brow. "Right, so the first floor is the Fade. Or Quagmire, as we call it. It is the easiest to enter because we go there in our sleep naturally. It has its own rules, laws, army, and currency. You understand. The next floor is Apocrypha. It also has it's own rules, landscape, laws, reasons. It's honestly a library the size of Ferelden. The darker or more powerful Princes you pray to, the higher up the tower you go. The more difficult it is to get in. If you wanted to go to, let's say, the Hunting Felids of Hircine, you have to be a werewolf. If you wanted to go to the Pits of Molag Balg, you have to sacrifice twenty people, I guess. He's just an ass hole. The point I'm trying to make is" she looked at him, and something on his face didn't sit right with her. She gave a heavy sigh. "There is a world outside of your own. There are forces outside of this dimension that you don't even know to exist. And for some reason, it's like your people are blinded." She licked her lips and tried again. "I don't know why, but, it seems to me like the veil that you and Solas love so much is the thing that blinds you. But, at the same time, it is also the thing that keeps you safe. From them. From their destruction and chaos." She looked into his eyes, not finding what she was looking for, and sighed. She hid her face from him in either annoyance or anguish. "I know I sound crazy. I know, if I were in your position, I would call you crazy for never even knowing the dangers the Deadra possess. I would call you naïve and inept. If your people were to call the Mer knife ear, you would be inciting a war." Cullen rolled his eyes at her theatrics. "Cullen, Elven royal nobles rule and control three of our countries. One of them all but owns Cryodiil. The central country and central trade. Imagine if Brayala won at the winter palace. Imagine if she was ruling Orlais with Celene as the talking puppet. That is Cryodiil right now."

Cullen took a deep breath, trying to understand her half-baked culture. "You still haven't told me what that thing was."

She leaned back and sighed. 'I don't know. Hermus Mora should be dead or recovering. He should be too weak to cross into the physical realm." She took a deep breath. "But I know someone who might."

"Why did it come to you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know." She said honestly. "I don't know what it was."

"Solas thinks it was a demon."

She held a hand to her chin in thought. "It would make sense. Hermus Mora is allied with Vaermina. And I did piss both of them off." She rubbed her forehead in annoyance. "I don't want to call him."

"What did it want?"

"Information. Intelligence. Me? Take your pick."

"What does it want information on?"

She shrugged. "Anything." Cullen was as amused as he looked. "Like I said, he has a massive library. If it's in a book. He wants it. I was half tempted to give him your Chant of Light and make him go away. But-" she took a breath. "Hopefully, he doesn't know anything about your land considering I've never heard of it. Maybe I can keep him in the dark for as long as I can."

"Why does he want you?" Uthreida drilled her fingers into the desktop in thought. On the third drill, he clenched his jaw. "Answer the question."

"It's not a simple answer."

"Make it simple."

She gave another sigh. "He thinks I'm his champion or something."

"Are you?"

"Gods, no. did you see that thing?" she asked pointing to his room. "Ugh." She made a face like she was about to vomit.

"So why does he think that?"

She blew out between her lips making a raspberry sound. "Here's where it gets complicated. His previous champion grew tired of his imprisonment in Apocrypha. He, in very deep subtext, very deep subtext" she repeated in a deeper tone, "asked for my help. I helped him because I am against slavery, and" her eyes drifted to the desktop in guilt. "I fear that is what I will become. So, I let him live because I needed him to keep an eye on Hermus Mora." She looked away from him. Cullen could tell in her actions that it wasn't aversions, but rather a guilt. "Together, we defeated Hermus Mora. Well, his Henchmen, not the Prince." She took a shaky breath. "Back to the analogy of the Oblivion tower. I had to use his keys to get in to save him. I'm not proud of it. But I knew what Mirrak was doing and I" she clenched her hands as she spoke. Cullen watched as her features turned from shame to guilt to conviction. "I had to do something. I had to save them. Those people did nothing and he," she scoffed. "He enslaved them for his bidding all because he wanted his freedom. I couldn't let it go. I had to stop him. I had to-" she leaned her face into her hands. She looked out the arrow slats in thought. Her silence filled the room. "You ever look at your life and wonder, are you actually the villain? That all of this is actually your fault. That, no matter your intentions, everything went to shit because of you?"

"Yes." He stated honestly. "Welcome to decision making."

She chortled at his dry joke. But grew more somber as she looked at the window. "I should've let it go. I never should've gone to Solstheim. I never-" she clinched up and hid her face again in one templed hand. Shaking her head at herself. "Anyways, I freed Mirrak, and now Hermus Mora thinks I'm his champion."

"Who's Mirrak?"

"The former Champion. And the current ruler of Apocrypha." She rolled her eyes at the universe. "He enslaved innocents for freedom and doesn't even leave the plane. And that's exactly how I want it. How's that for irony." She popped her jaw at herself in annoyance. "Chose the lesser of two idiots and now I'm lesser for it."

"Did you call that demon?"

"No," she stated, her tone disgusted at the question. "Look, I know I've made some, a lot, of bad decisions, but I don't pray to the Deadra. I will not submit to them."

Cullen met her conviction with a look of indifference. It was his turn to drill his fingers into the desktop. All of her answers seemed honest and true. But it's the same situation they had when she first arrived. Since she's been here. Her stories of places that don't exist don't add up. They don't make sense. "Why would you free a man that was enslaving others? If you're so against evil, why did you let him live?"

She threw her head back against the chair, revealing her throat to him and showcasing the bruising on her neck from the demon. "The simplest way I can put it, Mirrak is my Sampson, Valok." She said with a shake of her head. "He is what I will become if I'm not careful. He is my measurement of insanity."

Cullen felt his nose twitch. "Sampson is leading an army to wipe out Thedas. He turned Templars into monsters."

"That about sums it up." She said with a thoughtful chew of her cheek.

"I hate him for all he stands for."

"You think I don't hate my nemesis?"

"Sampson was weak."

"So was Mirrak." She met his tone. "When he made that pact, he sealed his fate. He knew what he was getting into. Then forced my hand in his escape. And I, guilt-ridden for everything I had done, set him free of his master. Freeing the people of Solstheim from his destruction." Her chin wavered, but with a breath, she refused any emotion other than self-depreciation.

Cullen stood tall and crossed his arms. What was stopping him from throwing her in a cell for observation? Other than his own reputation. He should kill her. He should be done with this. She put his life at risk for some demon that wanted her soul. Her body. A demon that is apparently consistently trying to kill her. His eyes cut away from her for a moment. He thought of every other mage in his life, under his charge, of the mages here in Skyhold. How often have these same people been treated the same way? How often has he had to correct his own thoughts to change perception?

He looked at her again to see her eyes had changed. She was done trying to convince him, but there was hesitancy in her posture. She held a hand to her chin as she looked at him. Judging him. Gaging him. Her lower jaw chewing her cheek in thought. "I can prove I'm not crazy." She said slowly. "But, it will open a lot of doors. I need to know that wasn't Hermus Mora. That he's still out of reach." She bit her lip as she looked at him. "I need to know that I won't be hunted again."

Cullen looked her up and down. "What are you suggesting?" he asked coolly, trying to keep the fear and trepidation out of his voice. Was she about to commune with a demon?

She rubbed her arms to comfort herself. Her chin quivered as she thought. She looked him over, her eyes begging for something he couldn't place until she spoke. "I need your help. I don't think I can face him again alone. So, I won't do this without your consent."

"Denied," Cullen stated quickly. Leaning down so he was resting his hands on the tabletop. She looked away from him and saw her eyes glisten in the light of the candles and moon. She placed a hand over her mouth to hide the fear and indignation that was threatening. "I know you want to know. I know you want to feel safe. But the information you want" he shook his head. "Not like this. You do this, you force my hand. And I will not care of the consequences that follow." His voice held the authority of his rank. He stood tall and looked down at her as she hung her head in shame. "Whatever it is you think you need to know, only feeds that demon. No matter the…prince. If you succumb to this, if you bend to its will, you weaken yourself." She shook her head. "You do not have my consent, my approval, or anything. You will not do whatever it is you're thinking of doing. Do I make myself clear?"

She took a shaky breath. Cullen realized her fear was surmounting in her. She looked at him, he could see she was ready to break. The woman, who never showed fear, had her hands fisted to stop them from shaking. Through a sealed throat, she said "protect me." He felt every inch of his resolve falter at her two whispered words. She closed her eyes to hide her shame. "Please."

In a moment, Cullen rounded the desk, pulling her into his arms, and holding her to his chest. Her hands clutched at his shirt as he pulled her tighter. He could hear the painful gulping of air as she tried to keep her fears at bay. His shirt grew wet at her tears. He put a hand to her head to hold her closer. Offering small sympathies and allowing her to be weak in a moment when she needed it.

He could imagine his shirt growing weak at the seams. Crying into his neck openly now. He rocked her, telling her everything was going to be alright. He held her up when she wanted to fall to the ground in her pain. He held her through her trauma and let her grieve. He could feel the years of duty and responsibility, the fears she must felt facing so many demons and dragons finally escape her.

As her tears died down, he guided her to the desk, and let her rest. She used her wrist to wipe away her face and he could feel a smile at the corners of his lips. She kept her face averted from him so he couldn't see her. He took her face in one of his hands and tilted her chin to look at him. She kept her eyes closed, her brows low in humiliation. He ran a thumb over her cheek, catching a tear she had missed. Her head moved to cup his hand into her face, holding it for a moment. Finding comfort in his hands. His heart swelled at the action. Her hand rested on his wrist as he held her face.

Cullen swallowed hard. Unsure of what was to come.

She took a deep breath. Cullen smirked when he realized she was yawning, trying to hide her exhaustion from the ordeal. "I can escort you back to your quarters if you like." Her eyes opened slightly but kept to the floor. She gently pulled at his wrist and let their hands fall to her lap. She softly shook her head. Cullen leaned in, resting his forehead against hers and trying to see her eyes. "Do you want to go back to bed?" he saw her clench her jaw before nodding once.

Cullen pulled away. He held her hand up to assist her to stand. "Go on then." He said with a smirk. She hopped off the desk slowly, walking in front of him. He watched her walk with his hand in hers. Her fingertips clutching his knuckles. He felt his feet be rooted to the floor. She was leading him. She wanted him to go with her. He felt his lungs shrink at the idea. She wanted him.

When he didn't move, she looked over her shoulder at him. Her red-rimmed, puffy eyes, looking at him expectantly. He wanted to follow, but also knew that he was wide awake and would make for a bad bedfellow for the next few hours with her. Her look of reliance made his heart melt. His feet followed unexpectedly to him. She trusted him. Unequivacuably.

He followed her to the ladder. He let her climb first. He watched her take each rung with a slowness due to her exhaustion. But with each step she climbed, he swore he felt a piece of his heart grow smaller. It felt like twine being unwound around his heart and drifted further as she climbed away from him. All he could do was stand on the base floor, and feel his heart being slowly unwound in amazement and awe. The slow unraveling of a knit shirt as she moved further away. Not sure as to why it was happening and did not want it to stop. The security that came with the unrequited pain rather than the uncertainty of happiness or hope.

She looked down at him when she was halfway up the ladder. He had enough wherewithal to realize that he should be following. Climbing after her, he hit the landing and pulled himself up. Uthreida was pulling the covers back on his side of the bed and climbed in. He felt himself smile, assuming she wanted to be surrounded by his scent. She looked at him again when he didn't approach.

Cullen looked away, saw his trunk, and walked towards it. He pulled out a fresh shirt and felt her eyes avert from him when he pulled his shirt off to replace it with a clean one. He watched her from the corner of his eye as he adjusted the shirt. She was resting on the headboard as if waiting on him.

He turned to her and approached. He placed a hand on her chin and gently turned her face towards him to see the injury from earlier that night. She had cleaned up the blood when he left. "Where are the bandages?" She was silent. "Utha, I need to burn them or it looks like you're doing blood magic in my quarters."

She pulled her chin from his hands. "Behind your chest." She tilted her chin to the trunck on the wall.

He gently touched her throat to assess the damages. "Tomorrow, I want you to heal that as much as possible. Don't let anyone see you until it's done. Got it?" She gave a quick nod. He nodded with her, and moved his hand to the of her head, and kissed her temple. His lips dropped to the scar on her cheek. "Get some sleep, Darling." She made a small grunt to agree. "And no more accidentally calling demons." That was the first time she had truly smiled tonight. "Go on." He watched over her, making sure she did as requested. Laying down with her head on the pillows. With a satisfied smirk, he left her to the loft.

"Thank you." She whispered.

His retreat was paused as he was smiling at her kindness. "Get some rest."

The sound of sliding made him wake up. His back ached from sleeping in his chair. Uthreida looked at him with a curious expression. Cullen sat up in the uncomfortable chair as she walked closer. The windows showed it was just before dawn. She circled the desk and tapped the arm of his chair. Cullen moved his arm to let her-

She sat on his lap. Her arms encircled his neck as she kissed his temple. She smirked as his arms held her back while the other rubbed her thigh. "How are you feeling?"

Her hand rubbed his shoulder in comfort. "Scared." She whispered hoarsely. "but you're right. If I had called Mirrak, he would've learned of Thedas. Which means Hermeous Mora would learn." She kissed his temple again. Resting her forehead against his head. "Thank you."

He tilted his head into her. Letting her find some reprieve. "How are you? Your wounds?"

"They'll heal."

"And you?"

He curled her arms back to hold his hands, lacing their fingers. She took a deep breath. "I just want to" she sighed. "Did I do the right thing?"

He looked up at her. Moving slowly and kissed her gently. Feeling proud of her decision and capability to fight off demons and temptations. He rested his head on her chest. Letting the silent darkness of the office consume them as they held each other.

Xxx

Uthreida tried to hide her smile as she pushed the door open to Cullen's office. He was talking to Soldiers and she had to stand, impatiently, waiting as he was trying to have a conversation about how to be a better leader but she was running out of time for his gift. So she started to pace and didn't notice that the room had silenced. She looked over to see him looking at her. With a confused and concerned expression. "Can I borrow you for a few moments?"

He looked away awkwardly but nodded to his men to stand fast for a moment. He followed her silently onto the southern ramparts as she couldn't hold back her smile or excitement. He looked her over with a playful knowing look. "Alright. I'll bite. What's going on?"

She pulled him by the shoulder to look over the drawbridge. She practically was vibrating with excitement as Vivienne, Blackwall, and Sera were on their horses with Royoc. "Guess where he's going."

He looked over at her slowly. He silently stepped back and gauged her with a brow. He lowered his brows in thought. His expression changed to a serious warning. "What did you do?"

"What?" she defended. "He's finally going to Du Lion."

"Why?" his low voice questioning the reason. "What did you do?"

"Nothing." She mumbled the reason.

"What was that?"

"Nothing…illegal." He only stared at her in silence. "That I'm aware of."

"Utha." He warned.

"I just, you know, followed him around. For a few days. Breathing. And sharpening weapons. And having loud discussions with people who knew of what was happening in Du Lion and how we needed men freed up from there before we assaulted the Arbors. And how it would make the Inquisition look really good if they cleaned up the area. And other…things."

"Such as?"

She fiddled with her fingers with a pained expression. "Prevented any and all conversations with other people to include Josephine and Dorian."

"Uthreida." He covered his face with a hand. A loud, disappointing sigh escaped his lungs. "Did you guilt the Inquisitor into doing his job?"

She smiled painfully. "Guilt. Persuade. Frightened. End result met." He sighed again. Looking to the sky for patience. She jutted her jaw. Disappointed at his disappointment. "You're welcome."

"I suppose." He threw up his hands in anger. "I guess." He looked her over. "What do you mean frighten?" She only smiled. He growled. "What did you do?"

"I…pushed the Inquisition forward." he arched a brow. "Remember yesterday when he was in your office and I 'fade stepped' I believe you called it, to appear before him and gave him back his handkerchief?" She smiled guiltily at him. Not mentioning the fact that the handkerchief may have had the letter from Royoc father wrapped up in it telling his son to mind his 'tendencies' folded in the small book that the Inquisitor kept on him at all times that marked each of his victims and plans for each that was hidden in the Inquisitor's quarters.

"Utha." He spun on his heel to wrap his head around the situation. "How did, I, you." He gave an aggravated growl at her and spun again to look at her in anger.

"He was acting like a child." She screeched.

"Lower your voice." He ordered as he stepped to her. He watched the Inquisitor ride off with an annoyed look that mirrored onto her. "I suppose a thank you is in order. However, whatever you did, however you did it, just" he groaned. "Never do that again."

"Why? It worked."

"Because it's what he wanted. Maker," he face palmed himself. "He wanted me to control you. I'm the only one making any kind of fuss over his ignoring Du Lion. And the only reason why he's doing this is that now you look like you've submitted to the Inquisition. To him."

"I-ohh." She watched the horses ride down the mountain. "Shit."

"Yeah." He roared. "Maker, I" he growled. "This is why I never asked you to fix it. Because I couldn't. And once again, you just had to fix something that didn't need it."

She watched the horses with a slack jaw. "I'm sorry."

He snorted. "Yes, you are now. Now, he's going to expect reports on how to control you. To contain. And I know I can't lie to save my life let alone yours. And if I don't give him something, it's going to look like I'm using you for my own ends. You, ahhhg, Maker above."

She bit her lips in humility. "On the plus side-"

"Stop helping." He ordered as he stormed back into his office.

xxx

"Are you awake?" she asked. Her voice a light hum in his ears as her fingers scraped, pulled, and fisted in his hair ever so gently causing him to find bliss in the movements.

"No," he grunted.

He felt her shake with laughter behind him as she held him to her chest. She tried to roll him but his weight was too much for her. "Come on. No lamb for the lazy wolf." She said a little more upbeat. He grunted at the comment. She was still for a moment. He felt her pull away only to have her cold feet wrap around his legs. He seized, cursed, and pushed her off of him.

Cullen rolled his head to look over his shoulder at her and found himself smirking. "Trying to get rid of me?"

"The sun will be up soon." She said, jutting her chin to the window. "Don't you have to go?" he watched her smirk as she playfully wrapped her arms over his shoulders. "Could you imagine the talk of the Commander leaving the bed of a pagan? What a scandal. You certainly know how to live on the edge, Commander." She said with a tilt of her head and a jovial smirk on her lips.

Cullen gave a grunt and got comfortable again. "It's Sunday."

"Ah." She said in realization. "What does that mean?"

He felt himself smile. For all her time here, she still hasn't figured out their customs. "It means, the men get an additional hour of rest for prayers. No one will be in the yard for another two hours."

She was silent in thought. "But won't the guard rotations still be there?" he grunted in agreeance. "So, shouldn't you go to avoid the guards?"

Cullen slowly opened his eyes to the window and felt himself smirk as a thought crossed his mind. He looked over his shoulder at her, the same one-sided smile on his lips. He rolled to see her completely. Her look of mirth slowly slipped into amused intrigue. Her eyes went between his lips and his eyes. "I think you're the one who's afraid a devout Andristian will be spotted leaving your bed, Utha." He arched a brow. "Do you deny it?"

She licked her lips, looking away from him with a smile. "Considering I don't have the same opportunities for…religious companionship" Cullen felt his stomach tighten as her tongue rolled the sentence. She winked, leaning in closer to him, "I'm sure they'll understand." She smiled at him, and he knew she was doing it to make him flustered. She kissed his nose. Not today.

"Or" he said, drawing closer to her until their foreheads touched, "question if you're contemplating conversion." He watched her dominating smile slide into distaste. He pressed further into her space until their noses touched. "Come to the temple with me."

Uthreida pulled away. Her face carved into disgust, a snarl on her nose, and an actual growl in her throat as she looked down at him, and backed off his advance. Cullen pushed himself on his elbows and continued his forward. "We can sing the hymns." She averted her gaze. With a wider smile, he leaned his head into the pocket of her shoulder. "I'll help you study the verses." She made another disgruntled sound as she turned her head away from him. He turned his head to whisper in her ear "embrace our Lady Andraste." He kissed the hollow of her ear, his lower lip dragging along her throat.

He felt her tense under him causing him to laugh. When he pulled back, her jaw was jutted in anger but could see the hint of a smile on her lips. Her eyes looked annoyed at him, and looked away again. "This reminds me of a song."

He sat back on his haunches and yawned, reveling in the small victory. "Of course it does." He rubbed the sleep from his face as he looked her over. He sat over one of her thighs while the other was lifted. Her white linen shirt was hanging off a shoulder revealing the black-knotted tattoos on her collar bones. The long sleeves were pushed up to her elbows letting him see the scars of her forearms in the dim light.

"There was once a troll." She said, her eyes in the distance. "She fell in love with a…man." Cullen arched a brow at the pause, but let it slide. "She promised him land, horses, gold and silver, shirts, mills. He turned it all away because she was of the old religion, and he was of the new." That situation does sound familiar. "She returned to the mountain. And the interesting part is, that song mentions the trolls curse once."

Cullen furrowed his brows. "So the troll was actually a woman, cursed to look like a troll until she was married?"

She smirked at him. "That is the romantic assumption." She took a deep breath, "Historically though, the song reflects the change of Skyrim's sociological, religious, and economics from when it was first founded by Yesiogmore. Specifically, the changes that have occurred within the last four hundred years. It's a story of embracing the old ways to forge a path for the future. However, the curse is, children often forget their histories and refuse to accept the past."

He arched a brow looking at her. "So, which am I?"

"The man."

"Making you the-," He said with an expectant smile.

"Song."

He made a dissatisfied sound through the corners of his lips stayed turned up. She made a small laugh at his misfortune. "Of course."

He watched her sit up and arch her back to stretch. Rubbing the small of her back as she usually did. "New dawn, new day," she said between a yawn. She scratched her head. The long, red curls bounced at the movement. Cullen put his hand to his hair, wondering if his curls were coming back in full force like hers. "I'm sure you have a full schedule for the day."

"I only have one engagement that's present on my mind."

"Oh?" her look of teasing intrigue at his next statement. He reached for the pillow and flopped back on the bed. He heard her laugh to herself. She crawled over him to exit the bed. "If you get me killed, I'm blaming you."

"That's fair." He muttered into the pillow, trying to get comfortable again. He inhaled her scent and felt the warm lull of sleep teeter on his mind. He felt the pull of magic and opened one eye to see her lighting candles on her desk. The three single candles had a wooden disk and a bowl of flowers in the middle of them making it look like an altar. He furrowed his brows as he watched her sit on the ground, stretch for a few seconds, before sitting straight and still.

He arched a brow. Is she praying? Meditating? He sat up on his elbows and watched her. She sat crossed-legged with her hands interlaced in her lap, palms up. In her hands was the necklace that she usually wore of the Warhammer of her god. He looked at her alter again. Even though there were more candles in her room, she chose those three. Next to it, he saw an hourglass. Smaller, but still all the same. She didn't flip it meaning it was just decoration. She was taking deep breaths even as her head hung low.

He watched in silent contemplation. It's been so long since he's had to do or even wanted to do, his morning prayers. Between the stress, long nights, and disgruntled mornings, he's always been too exhausted to even think of it and still be in the rings on time.

Cullen slowly exited the bed and looked at the spot next to her. Already feeling the harshness of the stone below his sore knees if he knelt and he didn't want to throw one of her pillows on the floor. He sat beside her like she is now. He folded his hands over his heart and recited the Morning Prayer in his mind. All thirty-seven lines of it.

As each line passed, he felt more rejuvenated. More sure of his path. Asking for forgiveness and seeking restitution. Finding peace in the rhythm and constancy of the habitual ritual. His purpose is clear in the words and the compassion of Andraste. He reflected as he finished. He reflected on the path they have taken so far and how much the Inquisition had left to go. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. His eyes fell to the bowl. He quirked a brow as if he was expecting to see a small statue of Andraste like his own personal alter.

He dared a look at Uthreida who still had her eyes closed, head down in thought and prayer to her gods. He realized that she was just as devout as he was. And that though her gods were different, she showed the same level of reverence and respect for them. She still prayed for things he would never hear. That he would never know. Could know. Or understand.

Her hands clenched around the necklace and her breathing grew lighter. "Akatosh, may my mistakes grant me wisdom. Shore, may my courage be enough to face your adversaries. Kyne, may my strength be enough to withstand the storms." She opened her eyes to look at her alter. She noticed Cullen from the corner of her eye and watched her smile to herself. She clinched the necklace again. "Tsun, may your trials grant me patience. Stuhn, may my honor be worthy of your gifts." She clapped twice to show the end. She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. She looked at him but yawned unexpectedly. "Still here I see?"

"I'm just shocked you do morning prayers."

"Things you miss when you sneak out in the middle of the night." She shot him a playful smirk but stood to stretch her legs. "Thankful for the rest, thankful for the waking." She placed the necklace over her head and tenderly placed the hammer under her shirt.

Cullen leaned back on his hands with a smile. "What do you pray for?"

She paused mid-stretch to look at him in confusion. "You just heard it."

"That's it?" he said with a chuckle.

"Aye. Small. Simple."

Cullen furrowed his brows. "You asked for your own strengths. No forgiveness. No gifts. Just, you as you are."

She gave a half shrug as she stretched a hamstring. "It's best not to rely on the gods too much. Otherwise, they'll see you as a whiner and not allow you in the halls."

"What?"

She switched legs. "There is no greater curse than to be beloved by the gods. Your path is forged by your own strength. Not theirs. If you don't have the strength, you're not going to make it."

He scoffed then leaned forward as she stretched her arms. "Don't your gods want you to live an honorable life?"

"Aye?"

"How do you show honor if you don't show penance?"

She paused as she looked down at him. "Ha?" Cullen rubbed his head trying to come up with a way for this to make sense to her. "Cullen." She knelt down to be at his level. "Do you remember when I fixed your bed?"

He looked at her with a bored expression. "Yes."

"Then you recall I wasn't in my room, praying for forgiveness day in and day out. I reflected on Arkay's teachings, actively underwent humility and service, so I could forgive myself." She waved her hand in the air. "They don't care. They don't. The Maker turned his back on the world. They don't care." Cullen felt his frown returning. "My gods don't play the numbers game of 'how many vices, how many virtues, the difference is your fate.' They don't care about that. All they care about is how you die. So every morning you're supposed to ask yourself if you die today, do you have a clear conscience. If the answer is no, fix it. If the answer is yes, honorable death."

Cullen leaned back further away from her. "That is a horrible system."

"Hey" she made a sound of mild offense.

"What happens if you lack empathy and think that hurting others around you is alright?"

She gave a shrug. "Well, someone's going to pay to have that person killed."

"That's an assassination. That's murder."

"I'm aware," she said mockingly. "And I assure you, every assassin prays to Sithis, not the Nine." She pointed at her alter to indicate the approved pantheon. "Look," she took a deep breath. "I have to live an honorable life because of my position. Because of my gods. Because of my ancestors. I want that seat in the Hall of Valor. It's easy enough for me to pray to Sithis, to Nocturnal, to Molag Bol. And be allowed or approved for every wrong thing in this world. But, this world was formed with the understanding that chaos exists and it's up to us to find order out of the chaos."

"You sound like a Qun"

She a gave small laugh and shrugged. "There's no one way to achieve Chim. The one I choose goes against my nature. Which is why I chose it. There is comfort in the struggle. There is honor in the struggle." Cullen found himself silent in the complexation of the idea. He understood where she was coming from. Kind of. And was able to appreciate that she was at least trying to live an honorable life. Even if the ideals were beyond him or the Maker's will. "Liliana," she said quietly. "We both know she was an assassin for the last Divine. Though murder is wrong in both the eyes of man and the Maker, do you think she justifies or blames herself for what she had to do? Do you think she forgives herself for what she has to do for the betterment of all?" Her head tilted as she looked at him. "Has praying for forgiveness helped you? Or have you learned to forgive yourself?"

He looked away. The truth was, no. he hasn't. How can he? He felt so much guilt and reprisal from the last ten years of his life that tracking down all those mages, people, former Templars would be next to impossible. He wanted their forgiveness, but how was he supposed to do that? He wanted the Maker's forgiveness just to ease the burden in his own heart but now knows that it's a longer path.

Maybe she was right. In one respect as least. He had to actively forgive himself. Not just make amends to the Chantry.

She stood silently and let him reflect on their conversation. He watched her sit in a chair and comb her hair for the day. He watched as each group of strands slowly became puffier as they filled with air, and how the Maker's forgiveness and his own were the same paths. He watched as she wetted her hands in water to tame it, like how he was supposed to wash himself to be free of his sins. He watched her take her comb and part the paths in her hair to neatly pull her hair back in her usual single braid. Which path should he follow? He caught her eye in the small mirror that was on her desk. He saw her smirk as she pulled all her hair to the side. She sectioned off a portion that he assumed was banged at one point in time. He took a breath and realized he was impressing too much on mundane tasks.

He watched her as she flipped her hair forward and started to roll it around the base of her skull, taking in small pieces at a time and rolling it up to her crown. She left out the part that were her bangs, putting in hairpins where necessary, and kept going. Her hair was long enough to where it circled her head twice and ended at the same starting point. The remaining was used to frame her face.

She turned at looked at Cullen with a daring smirk. He only arched a brow at her. The style reminded him of Cassandra only thicker and spiraled rather than braided. The long hairs did wonders as it elongated her face and softened her square jaw. Making her look even more feminine than she usually did. Her eyes, without the thick black kohl, looked smaller, more homely. She looked like every other Ferelden woman walking around Shyhold. And the thought of it made him a little angered. She wasn't Ferelden. She wasn't homely or pious. She was her. She was Uthreida.

She shook her head at him to get him to say something. He needed to think of something quick that said it looked fine, given she put more time into it, and also, never do to that again. "I don't think that's going to fit in your helmet." He tried the pragmatic approach, hoping she'll see reason and go back to her three to five braid style.

She looked in the mirror and nodded. "Good point."

She took out the several pins and Cullen watched as it all fell back to her shoulders in a long spiral. She fluffed it, and he remembered what it look like sprawled out against his pillows and sheets as he looked down at her in her sleep. And the nightmare that came with her hair getting in and on everything. She parted her hair again, using a leather strap to tie off a top knot in her hair.

Realizing his staring might be boarding on creepy, but not wanting to leave either, he stood quietly behind her. Taking the comb, he started to brush the right side of her hair. She watched him with some anxiety. "What are you doing?"

"Helping." He said with a smirk. "You have a lot of hair."

Her face showed she was unsure of how to treat this situation. "Please don't tie it in knots."

"I'm not going to tie it in-oops." She looked at him with wide eyes and a tongue lashing at the ready. He only smirked at her as he dragged the comb through. She pursed her lips in annoyance before continuing her plan. "Have you considered cutting it?"

"I like the options."

"You never wear it down." He argued.

"I like the options." Her tone was theatrically overdramatic to show the end of the conversation. He only shook his head and continued.

"You" he sighed at her constant mixed signals. Cullen, more or less, just played with her hair, using the comb occasionally as she needed it more than he was using it. He mostly just ran his fingers through it. Allowed to touch it while she was conscious. Knowing the strands, but feeling the overall silk of it. Counting the different colors of red in her hair from a dark brunette to white. Rounding the coils around his fingers. Secretly coveting this level of trust and intimacy. She finished braiding one-half of her head and looked at him. The Six braids were following the centerline of her skull that lead up to the top knot she had created earlier. "It's getting late, Commander."

His eyes were pulled to the window and he realized that the sun had risen. He should be going. His fingers curled in her hair again. This is the second time she's made a mention of the time. He didn't know if it was for her or his benefit. Either way, he backed off. His hands were cold outside of her hair. He licked his lips, silently crossing the room to reach his boots.

Sitting on the bed, he would sneak looks at her as he worked. Watching her in silence again. He knew it was wrong. That this would only end in disaster. He cut his eyes away to check the lacing of his boots and tie if off. Grabbing the other boot, he watched her again. She was a walking war machine. He scolded himself. She was a pagan. A mage. This is wrong. But they trusted each other. He felt something. That had to count for something.

As he tucked his laces, he remember her saying it. The gods don't care for the numbers, just the actions. It didn't matter that the opposites but trusted one another. According to her, her gods only cared if she acted on it. According to the Maker, it was his place to convert her. He watched her flip her hair to work on the other side of whatever braid style she was working on today.

He wanted her wild.

He wanted her sharp tongue.

He wanted her scars and tattoos.

He wanted her ridiculous hair and thick kohl eyes.

He wanted her stories.

He licked his lips in realization. He realized just how dangerous this was becoming. Knowing she had already gotten under his armor, and now…now what.

He let her work in peace as he placed the cloak over his shoulders. He paused with his hand on the door.

Nah. Nothing wrong with a bit of fun.

He turned and stepped behind her. Smiling. She looked up at him, and Cullen fisted her free hair and gently pulled it down causing her neck to pull back. Bending low, he kissed her. He pulled back to see her smiling at his antics. "Nord."

"Templar." She said with a roll on the title.

His smile widened at her. Wondering how many more titles he could pull from her. "Slayer."

"Commander."

He kissed her again. Releasing her hair and letting her neck recover. He tussled her hair and messed it up on purpose. She reached for something and lifted it above her head and Cullen ducked as he made his escape to the door. He opened the door and stopped dead.

Micha stopped mid-step to see him exiting the room. The warden bent forward slightly to see Uthreida in the room. A slow, knowing, naughty smile curled the dwarf's lips. "Commander?" her tone was low and sultry. "Hola, momasita."

There was a slight pause before Uthreida responded. "Blessings, Micha." She said cautiously.

Micha looked at Cullen with a devious smile. Her eyes drew up and down him. Her brows waggling an implication. Cullen rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him.

"What are you doing, Papi?" Cullen walked down the path as she followed behind him. "So glad I ran into you. Couple of things we need to discuss."

"If this conversation is anything remotely close to what I think it's about, I will warn you, I can outrun you."

The warden gave a cackle of a laugh as she walked beside him. "Probably. Look, she's a friend. And I just want to make sure she's getting what she deserves. I know you Chantry types all seem to think that sex is either super fun or super – hey, get back here." Cullen increased his pace. "That's fine. I can be loud." She shouted. "Foreplay is important."

Cullen stopped and spun on his heel to glair at the Warden who was struggling to keep up with him. Sounding winded as she smiled. "As I was saying." She said in a conversational tone.

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. "Makers breath. Are you quite serious right now?" He looked over the gardens and saw four different people, all heading to the temple look up at them to see who was so uncultured as to discuss sex on a Sunday. Before chapel. Cullen took a step back from the sidewall to hide.

"Quite." She smirked.

Cullen grunted and spun. "Not that I don't appreciate you embarrassing me like this, but-"

She pulled on his cloak to stop him. He turned to see a serious expression. "Listen." She looked over her shoulder to the room he just existed and sighed. She rubbed her neck. "She's got a big heart. I know she doesn't show it, but you see it in her actions." She took a deep breath and stepped forward. "So, foreplay." She resumed the smile and walked in front of him. "Edict, right? Ladies go first. Look at me, ladies go first." Cullen rolled his eyes and decided to endure until he could find a reason to get rid of her.

Xxxx

Cullen paused and looked at the odd seal. Blue wax with a bear seal. Amaranthine. He lowered a brow and started to read.

Dear Inquisition,

The Grey Wardens have discovered a small Red Templar mine and hold on Storms Coast. The area is secured. However, we have heard that the Inquisition has a dragon slayer."

His heart stopped.

The citizens of Amaranthine would like to request the skills of this dragon slayer as it has become apparent that the dragon nearby is starting to spook the locals and causing ships to crash in the seas. Payment will be made en route upon acceptance of this request.

Arl of Amaranthine and Commander of the Grey of Ferelden,

Nathaniel Howe.

Cullen looked at the letter with trepidation. Yes, she did slay three dragons in Du Lion, but –

It all felt too soon. To send her to slay again. So quickly. His jaw clenched at the thought of losing her again. The thought of never seeing her. The darkness, the numbness swept over him again. He took a shaking breath as he looked at the request. It was, this was.

He opened a drawer and hid the letter from himself. Putting it out of his mind for now.

He swallowed back his fears and opened a new letter. From the Inquisitor. He had completed the assault on the Suldin Keep. A demon, Ishmael was the 'gardener' of the area. He had picked up Ser Michael that was to report to Skyhold within a few weeks. Good news. Finally. Attached were missives from his men in the field. But one thing caught his attention. A letter. A name. Maddox. He lowered his brows and felt himself back in Kirkwall. Maddox. The tranquil? What does he-

The north door opened and Uthreida stood there in her usual night garb. Her khol was removed and he saw the bags under her eyes, just as physically exhausted as he was. In the silence, she opened a hand to him, waving it closed to draw him closer.

He smiled at the invitation. "You go ahead, I'll be up in a minute."

"It'll be there in the morning. Come."

"No, I-"

"Cullen." He looked up to see her holding her hand out to him again. "Come to bed."

Whatever his argument was, died on his lips as he looked her over. Her invitation and warmth guided him. He felt himself stand without hesitation. And followed.

Watching her climb into his bed as he removed his armor. Feeling her move closer to him on the bed and wrapping her arms around his middle as he held her by the shoulders as if practiced. Tucking her head under his chin and embracing the calmness she offered.

The sound of a surprised inhale woke Cullen up. He jolted from the bed to have Uthreida cling to him on his side of the bed. "What-what happened?"

"Spider. It's, its" She waved a hand behind him to indicate her side of the bed while clutching onto his neck and using his body as a shield.

Cullen turned and looked at the corners of the room. No scratches to tittering to indicate giant spiders. "I was-was sleeping and I felt something and when I looked-"

Cullen took a deep breath and looked down at her slowly with his full annoyance. "Big or little."

"Big!"

"How big?" She fisted her hand to show the size with wide eyes. She was being over-dramatic. "You kill dragons."

"It scared me." A look of panic on her face as her voice went up. "Kill it."

Cullen grunted and let her go. She slid halfway off the bed and hung onto the sheets. Cullen climbed off the bed to retrieve the candle. "So glad the Inquisition has the feared dragon slayer on the payroll."

"I know." Her voice was still high from her panic. She says up on the bed, looking at the sheets intensely. Cullen side-eyed her and started to remove blankets to find the culprit. "Be careful. It's really big."

He shot her another annoyed look but didn't find anything. "Did you already kill it?"

"Probably."

He groaned and moved his search to the floor. He gave a tired blink at the culprit. "Found it."

"Kill it."

"I don't know," he said reaching for it. "Looks friendly."

"Kill it." Her voice shrilled.

Cullen sat up and showed her fear. She hid her face from him in fear. "It's your own damn hair, Utha." She looked at him with a serious expression at the knot of hair that she burst into an embarrassed laugh. "Makers mercy." He stood quickly. "I swear, I can't even breathe without your hair in something. You shed worse than a cat."

"Oh, aye." She said between fits of laughter. "I suppose. But still." She met his eyes and laughed again.

Cullen rolled his eyes and walked back to his side of the bed, placing the candle on the stand. He pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed. "I swear you are-" his eyes widened as he looked at her shoulder. Found the spider. She followed his eyes and took a sharp inhale. Cullen slapped her shoulder to keep her from screaming. They both looked at one another and started laughing. "You brought it to my side?"

"I didn't know." She defended in a squeal. She shook her hands to fight the fear.

Cullen clenched his hands quickly and looked down at her as she kept laughing at the experience. "Utha, this is one of those times" he held his hands out for her throat and curled his fingers to choke her. He touched her by the throat gently and pulled her forehead to his lips in frustration. "Maker take you quickly."

"Thank you, Cullen. My big brave Templar."

He rolled his eyes and motioned for her to scoot over. She looked at the other side of the bed and shook her head. He gave an annoyed huff and moved so he laid behind her.

She conformed herself under his arm and was again using him as a shield against the rest of the bed. She ran a hand over his chest. As he forced himself to breathe deeply to calm down from the midnight scare. "You're so brave, Cullen." He grunted. "Sleeping in a bed full of spiders."

Well, he's awake now.

She laughed again in his silence.

"This is your fault" he moved to push her off of him.

"Me? You're the one who sleeps with a hole in your roof."

"Or, it's summer. Spiders will happen."

"In the mountains?"

"Yes, in the mountains. Besides" he crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at the said hole. "Tell me you don't like sleeping the stars."

She gave a quick huff after her thoughtful silence. "Aye, the one-quarter of the night sky."

He looked down at her annoyed. "Do you want a roof or not?"

She looked up at him from his shoulder. "Aye, that is rather the question, isn't it? All or nothing?"

She had a point. Cullen scowled further and closed his eyes. "Go to sleep."

She moved closer again and forced her way under his arm. He was too tired to fight and no longer cared as her leg rested on his hip.

"I wish you could see a northern night sky."

"Like Tevinter?"

"Like Skyrim." She said softly, her fingers passively drawing over his heart. "The auroras." He took a deep breath and cocked a brow in question. "On clear nights like this, you can see the dream sleeve in the sky. They change colors and it's beautiful to see. How the Atherius affects the world, even at night without the light of Magnus."

He felt her pull magic and opened one eye. She used the hand between them to showcase little lights moving above her hand. The slow movements were hypotonic and beautiful in their own way. The mixing of oranges, blues, and greens. "Beautiful."

She closed her hand, sensing the ending of her magic. "Imagine that across the entire night sky."

She tucked herself further under his arm with her head in his shoulder. "You miss it."

She nodded slowly. "It's always the small things you take for granted."

He kissed her forehead and pulled her deeper into his bed. "I'd like to see it."

"The aurora?" He hummed an affirmative. "You want to see Skyrim?"

He ran a hand over her thigh that was thrown over him. "From the way you describe it," he shrugged. "Why not."

She was silent for a moment as her fingertips ran over his chest again, circling his heart. "We could go." She said softly. Cullen had to force himself to wake up to hear her. "We could leave this all behind us. You'll want for nothing."

He ran a hand over her hair. "After. There's still too much left here to finish."

"Aye."

He noticed a sound of sorrow in her voice. The truth of the matter. Cullen rolled on his side to look at her. "After."

"I know." She said softly.

Cullen felt her neck tighten like she was bitting back her plans. He held her tighter in his arms, feeling the impending loss of her heat. Knowing what 'after' really meant. "Or, less favorable option-"

"Not an option."

Cullen sighed at her stubborn pride. "You know, there's, Uh, land for sale. On the Nevarran border of Orlais. You could, we, ah." She moved to look at him but he kept his chin firmly above her head so he couldn't see her. So she couldn't see his trepidation. "That is-"

She gave a low chuckle. "How would that work, exactly? How would it look?" She moved to place her chin on his chest to look at him. A dreamy smile curled on her lips.

He looked away to gather himself. "I would imagine a small cottage."

"Cottage?"

He smiled at the excited influx of her voice. "Would you prefer a chateau?"

She paused to think of it, her smile growing into a grin. "Aye."

"A chateau then. With acreage to farm and hunt. A garden."

"What would we grow?"

He looked off, trying to imagine her in a garden. Smiling at him as she was heavy with child. "Flowers."

"What kind of flowers?"

"Whatever you like."

She sat up taller to look down at him. "My garden then."

"Of course." He reached a hand up to her, tucking her unruly hair behind her head and holding it there.

"Nightshade is beautiful."

"Of course. Let's plant poison." He smiled at his joke as she chuckled.

"Elder trees then? Turn our home into a temple." He smiled as he looked at her. Their home. Watching his imagination grow with her. "You said land for farming. What would we grow?"

He gave a quick shrug. "Given the area, wheat's a good start."

She smiled as she leaned her head on a hand. "And where will your men train?" Cullen paused. He hadn't considered. She smiled again. "A respite, then. For you. Away from your command." A dreamily smile crossed her lips as she looked down at him. "It's a beautiful dream. But begs the question, are you hiding me? And from whom?"

"That's not" he covered his face with a hand. "That's not what I meant. I just-"

"It's a beautiful dream, Cullen." She said softly, curling back into him. "One that will keep us both warm when duty calls." She curled her fingers across his heart again. "Our land." She said softly. Cullen felt his heartbreaking at what it would mean. What it would have to come to for such a dream. What she would have to leave behind. Knowing she won't stay, and he couldn't leave.

He pulled her closer, hoping her warmth would suffocate the cold of the thoughts. And kissed the crown of her head. Her hands slowly drew lines across his chest. Mapping the outline of the necklace of his Andraste coin. He rubbed her shoulder to move her as she became still in his arms. He wanted to tell her to stay. To beg. But lacked the courage. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. Forcing his imagination to see her standing in the garden again. A hand over her swollen stomach protectively. Smiling at him. It was a good dream.

The first nail hit the metal candle holder, and he already hated the day. He kept his eyes closed. She had rolled away from him in the night. But he could still feel her there. He opened his eyes to see her sleeping. Her red hair pulled up and over the pillows so she could sleep without getting caught. Her scarred eye closed and her lips slightly parted as she breathed deep. He found himself smiling at her sleeping form. She either felt his gaze or was finally roused by the nail. Cullen closed his eyes, not wanting to scare her away.

She took a few deep breaths before falling silent. Cullen barely opened his eyes to see her give an annoyed look at the window. She yawned and stretched while still laying down. The debate of going back to sleep weighed heavily in her expression.

But watching her yawn made him do the same. There was the awkward 'morning' wave between the two before she sat up. She stretched her back before turning away to put on her boots. Cullen ran a hand through his hair and went over all the things he had to do today, with his eyes slowly closing on him. He heard the leather straps of the bed groan as she stood to leave.

"Wait" his mind rememberd the thing he wanted to talk to her about for the last few days but always forgot. She turned to look at him, still tired and exhausted. He failed to sit up once but succeeded the second time. "I um, do you have a moment?" She gave a groggy shrug at the comment but walked to him anyways. "I um" he rubbed the back of his neck as he thought about it. He looked at her again as she sat on the edge of the bed next to him. But watching her, being so close he could touch her. Was allowed to touch her. Was allowed to speak. He lost his courage. "I know you've been doing research into Thedosian culture and history. Specifically Ferelden. Anyways" he said looking away from her "I wanted to get you something that wouldn't be in the books here."

She was silent for a second, then slowly started to smile at him. "You got me a gift?" She said slowly was only realizing as she said the words.

He rubbed his neck again. "Umm. Yes." He said sheepishly. When he looked at her though, he matched her smile. After a pregnant moment, she shook her head to move him. "Right. Uh, one second." He had to get out of bed to his trunk. Moving things aside, he found what he was looking for. Wrapped in a simple white linen cloth, he sat on the bed next to her. "Here."

She took the package and opened it. Her look of giddy was replaced with intrigue. "It's a torc. It's an old Alamarri tradition. When a child comes of age, they get a necklace. Girls get a family pendant or beads and the boys get a torc. The necklaces stay with them their whole lives. During Andrastes time, the Tevinters would collect them to see who had the largest collection of dead slave warriors." He looked at the corded and braided metal that was spiraled to the two plain beads at the end. He was glad to see he spent good money getting it cleaned as it shone in the early dawn light. "In noble families, the beads are fashioned as animals so that whoever swears to the man, will have to face the animal if they break the convent. Now days though, only noble or freeholder can afford the tradition."

"We have these in my culture as well." She said with a growing smile. "It's also ancient. Back then, when a warrior presents their oaths to the Jarl or King, they are given oath rings. They were a sign of loyalty. Duty. Honor. As time progressed, they became smaller, symbols of office. And now, jewelry." She looked at him with a smile. His heart fluttered when she looked at him like that. Some of her hair was in her face and he watch fascinated as she pulled it back. Her look turned to tease as she sat closer to him. "So, Commander Cullen, what is your oath?"

"Ah?" He drew his brows not really understanding. His eyes shifted to the necklace then at her. Should've just bought the garnet necklace and called it good. He tried to make sense of what she said. "That's not mine. Wasn't mine."

"Did you not present it to me?"

He bit his lip knowing he was about to be backed into a corner. "Yes, but-"

"But?"

"It's a gift."

"And I am honored and humbled to accept this gift. But no gift is without its price." Two royals? "What is your oath?"

He paused. "To you?"

"Of me."

His eyes went back to the necklace. This was supposed to be simple. "Uh" he racked his brain and all he got were the Templar vows. He summed it up. "Do good." He said sheepishly.

She was aiming for annoyance, but her smile was too large for the situation. "And."

"Be good?" She gave a long chuckle from her chest. When she looked at him again, her head tilted. Her eyes shone at him. He realized that he could say anything in this moment.

Stop questioning my orders.

Stop scaring the soldiers.

Never leave me.

But-

He looked at the necklace again. He felt the warm metal being removed from his own throat as he gave it back to his da when he left for Templar training. To her, it was a physical reminder of oaths. Vows. Promises. How many oaths and promises has she made in her life? How many oaths has she made to herself? But here, now, she was given an opportunity to make them physical. To make them real.

"Serve and protect." He finally said. That was the true vow of being a Templar. No matter where or to who, it was a vow to protect those behind you, and serve those beside you. To protect the people, and serve the Maker. And after everything he had seen, everything she had spoken of, it was her vow to herself. The vow she makes to others.

"I'm not sure what the ritual is, but-" she moved so that she held the torc in both of her hands as she bowed her head. "I, Uthreida Storm-blade, make this oath to you, Cullen Rutherford, to serve and protect those who cross my path in life, and in death."

She moved to place it on her throat, but he stopped her by touching her arm. She looked confused for a second. She was looking at him expectantly. She looked at him for guidance and understanding. And he swallowed his courage again. "Oaths mean nothing without loyalty." He said, deeper than he intended. Her smile faltered on her lips as her eyes searched his for answers. He gave a soft smile to ease her. "And you've proved it time and again." He looked at her and see a blushing smile cross her cheeks. "Don't suppose I can squeeze in a bit about the Maker in there real quick, can I?"

"I would prefer if you did not."

He lifted a hand. "Then, Uthreida Storm-Blade," he said theatrically to keep her smiling, "I accept your oath to serve your gods and protect people in your life and death." He gave a flair of his wrist to allow her to wear the torc. She placed the torc around her throat and beamed when she looked at him. He felt unease at the look. She was wearing it wrong. "I'm sorry, the beads go in the front. Here" he moved to pull her hair aside and rotated it so the end beads sat in front of her throat. He released her red hair to see it curtain behind her shoulders. She looked down to admire the torc with a smile.

Makers breath. He felt his heart hammer his chest. That is the image every Ferelden boy thinks about growing up. A beautiful woman, admiring their torc around her neck.

He tore his eyes away to his hands as he caught his breath, licking his lips. His eyes went back to the torc. It was triple-braided metal and was too thick for her neck. The curve of it caused the beads to protrude past her natural...upper...chest. he took her face into both of his hands and kissed her. A smile curled on his lips at her soft embrace. "Makers breath," he whispered, "you're beautiful."

She covered her smile with a hand at his bluntness. A dark blush crept over her cheeks and making her scar darker. "I should go. But thank you."

He looked away from her smile realizing too late he was rubbing his neck again. "It's no problem." He moved to get off the bed when she assault him with a hug. She had pinned his arms so he couldn't return it. He was left to chuckle deeply at her antics as she held him tighter for a second and let go. Still beaming at the bobble around her throat.

Cullen waited until she left the office before flopping back on his bed with a smile. Maker, preserve him. Please, let her rip out his heart slowly so he didn't have to feel anything when she leaves.

Xxx

Uthreida snuck into the office. A pout on her lips but excitement in her heart. She leaned against the back wall. Watching Cullen as he went over the battle tactics and strategies for the team about to embark into the arbors. She was excited to tell him of her day and the new trade partner she found. She moved slightly and accidentally caught his attention. His eyes dropped to her body and a small smirk on his lips as he had to clear his throat to keep speaking.

She smiled. Her hands smoothing the skirts of the back dress, once blue. Her mind went back to earlier that day. Of his little prank and the other reason she's here.

An envoy of Prince Franscous of Antiva was there to speak to her of trade and Josephine was excited which made Uthreida excited. Giving legitimacy of her land and cause. She had dressed in her best dress and had spent hours on her hair and Josephine assisted with makeup to give a more Theodsian appearance. She entered the hall, ready for the meeting but her mind racing with facts and figures that she and Josephine had been going over for the last few days to get it right. Her arm was snatched and was dragged back into the vestibule of the main hall. She looked at the familiar furs of Commander Cullen as he pulled her along. She pulled at his hand but he only smirked. He pulled her into a dark corner and placed a hand on the brick wall behind her to block her movements. She saw the smile on his lips and the lust behind his eyes. She arched a brow at the crudeness of the situation. "I have a meeting. Do you mind?"

"Why" his eyes dropping lower, taking in every inch of her form before him and filling her with electricity of his inspection. Her chest jutted slightly and straining against the cloth of her low cut bodice as she tried to breathe. Taking in his scent. And fighting the smile. "Are you dressed like this?"

"I have a meeting with an envoy of a price of Antiva." He cocked a warning brow. "For trade."

"I see." He placed a hand to the small of her back to draw her closer to him. "You should be careful of wearing such dark clothing in a place like this." She tilted her head in question as his hand slid down the wall behind her. "The dust has a tendency to stick."

His arms moved lower and she heard him rub his hands together behind her. She had seconds to react to the fact that he just dusted both his hands and she was in a precarious situation as he closed in on her ass. She held her arms wide to stop him but he was stronger as one hand grabbed a hand full of her rear and pulled her closer to his waist. The surprise of being goosed, by him, in public, sent her forward as his other hand tightened on the other side.

She shot him a look of death that he smiled at. She now had to go to a meeting, with dusted handprints on her ass in a black skirt. She beat his armored chest twice in frustration that he only chuckled softly at.

She looked at his throat and realized two could play at this game. She grabbed his gorget and pulled him down. Nuzzling his chin up, she went under his jaw and bit. Leaving a mark of her lip paint behind on his thin beard. The painful exhale as he held her tighter made her want to bite harder. Curl into him. But she let go. Leaving him and his scent behind.

His hands slid up, touching the lacing at her back until one hand rested behind her head, the other on her waist. Her own forefingers tuck into the sword belt at his hips. He looked at her. A look she had rarely seen his wear before that sent her blood rushing and her throat dry.

A titter of laughter behind them made them step apart. His gloved hand took her naked one and he kissed her knuckles. "Tonight then?"

She licked her teeth as she tilted her head. "As you say."

She blinked the memory off as she watched Cullen command his troops. Moving them where necessary. He met her eyes again and he had to swallow what he was going to say. "That'll be all."

He followed the Soldiers out. Overbridge took her in and winked with a smile. One Uthreida returned. Cullen shut the door with both hands. Bracing himself on the door and took a calming, shaking breath. His amber eyes held darkness as he looked her over. From throat to braided leather necklace, The low cut of her bodice, white furs at the collar and thin dark chemise fabric covering her chest, the waist, and hips of her bodice, and the deep skirting of her dress. The black lacing at the cuffs wrists. He stood slowly, taking her in. His eyes went to her throat, her lips, her hair pulled back in multiple braids and sewn in place. He held a hand out for her to take.

She could barely breathe under his intense gaze. Even as the prince's envoy looked at her in the same lust, she didn't feel the breathlessness and anticipation like she did with Cullen. That level of trust and understanding they had attained. She smiled as she looked at him. Swallowing back her desire for him as she took his hand. "You wanted to see me, Commander."

His body jerked slightly in a manner she hadn't seen in such a long time. But that smirk. Gods above. He licked his lower lip. His tongue enticed her as he stepped closer. She breathed deeply on instinct. Scenting him and feeling comforted in his consistency. The familiar scent of elder leaves, oakmoss, and his own musk. He placed her hand on his shoulder. He leaned in and kissed her softly. His usual soft kiss. His lips still hesitated at her touch. Asking for her consent. It wasn't until she smiled and forced him out of his comfort that his courage returned. His own breath heaving at their contact. His hand placed on the small of her back as he brought it closer to him. Deepening their connection. Their kiss. Her hands went to his hair and furs. Careful of the lance rests as her own chest heaved at his excitement.

His hand fell lower. Grabbing her again. His hard fingers digging into her skirts caused her to stand taller on her toes and curl into him. His hand placed on the wall behind them for stability. Her knee rose without thought. Trapping his leg between hers. Her heel tapped the back of his knee.

He leg buckled. Pinning her between him and the stone wall as his tongue danced with hers. Fighting the smiles at their silent game of dominance. He threw his gloves on either side of him to touch her face. Her throat. As her own hands searched for his skin. His fingertips grazed the top of her displayed breasts. Pausing to ask for her permission with a slack jaw, panting breaths, and a hazed question in his eyes. She pulled the cuff of his vambraces slowly so the palm of his hand covered her left breast. He kissed her deeper. Taking her allowance and running. His leg raised slightly between her legs and made her give a slight moan.

Her head was swimming in his kiss. Thoughts of unlocked doors seemed so distant in his scent and taste. His hands went back to her hips and squeezed her rear to stand taller. Her legs moved on his command to wrap around his hips but the skirting stopped her. Her hands moved to lift the skirts. He used one hand to stop her.

He pulled back. His heavy breathing matched hers. His smile was more fulfilled than before. He rested his forehead against hers. Kissing temples and tried to catch his breath. He looked to the ceiling with a smile. She went for the attack and kissed his jugular. His hands bit into her waist again as his hips jerked against her. "Maker."

He pulled his chin down to stop her attack. His eyes blackened by lust as he looked at her. She smirked, curious what his next move would be. His nose visually snarled as he smirked down at her. Something woke up. And she smiled at the danger.

He knelt, pulling her up by the knees and back. Uthreida's initial inhale of shock was cut off by her laughter. He walked with her in his arms to the couch. He sat down with her striding across his lap. His kisses trailed down her chin and neck. Uthreida threw her head back. Giving him her most vulnerable spot as his teeth grazed her collar bone. His tongue laving at her throat. His fingertips traced the tattoos on her chest. Grabbing his hair, she jutted her chest to bring his lips back. His hand ridding low, sending goosebumps across her body as he grabbed her thigh through her skirts. Her own hands were desperate to feel skin. The short, rough beard on his chin. The soft curls in her fingers. The chords of his neck. His calloused hands in hers. His hand felt the dense brocade bodice and tried to squeeze through the tight fabric and soft chemise at her chest.

She leaned back. Pulling her magic she flicked a hand at the locks and each slid into place. The furthest across the room taking a bit more time and concentration.

"Need lyrium?"

"I can do it. Just…a little…more." she sighed.

"Can you warn me next time?"

She squinted at him but gave up on magic. She stood quickly and walked across the room to the lock she couldn't reach. Sliding the lock, she turned to see him standing. Removing the belting at his hip. He smiled shyly. Placing the belt on the arm of the sofa. Adjusting his sword so it didn't fall. She slowed her stride as her heartbeat in her chest. Feeling the anticipation and excitement flow over her heated skin. Her eyes took in the form of the draping of his cloak that he slowly removed as she approached. Watching her as he placed it haphazardly on the back of the couch.

And smiled. Curious to see where he was going with this. How far he was going with this.

He watched her with the same scrutiny. He lifted an arm for his vembracers and she stepped closer. With each buckle taking a new step. He smiled at her game. Arching a brow at her. One vembrace off, he crossed his arms, waiting on her invitation. She reached for the chair and started with her boots.

He smiled at the modesty. Removing the buckles of his other vembrace. His deft fingers made quick work of the worn buckles. His eyes turned to his side buckles. His fingers moved quickly as she started to break the thread that held her hair up. Letting it fall across her shoulders one clump at a time as a mess of braids and curls.

He unbuckled his pauldrons when she was standing before him. She moved to pull the lacing at her back and he held up a hand to stop her. She looked at him with a knowing smirk. His eyes fell on her bodice. He stepped to the side and bent over, pulling the armor over his head and off. Setting it on the ground next to the foot of the couch. He pulled the leather jerkin and cotton shirt over his head, throwing it on the armor pile next to them. He held a hand out to her. Gently asking. Pleading she accept him. Her eyes dropped. Seeing his chest for the first time. His bare chest was shaved which would be considered effeminate in Skyrim. But the scars and wounds. The burn on his right hip, a scar on his left pectoral that curled with the muscles. Four claw marks on his shoulder. His arms held more scars of battles like arrows or electricity. The thick silver chain around his neck showed a coin of Andraste that hung over his heart.

She took his hand slowly. He pulled her closer. Bending low to catch her lips in a soft and tender kiss. Her hand moved to his heart and felt the deep and fast beating that he was hiding.

His hand moved to her chest. Pulling the leather chord slowly. She looked down to see his prize. Moving to help the hammer of Talos be free of her breasts that hung to her stomach. He looked at the symbol. The Nordic carved runes. She looked up at him. His thumb ran over the symbol. He met her eyes and smiled. He held her hand and pulled her with him. Stepping back and sitting slowly on the couch.

Uthreida looked down at him. Searching eyes in hers to ask she join him. She smiled at the prospect before her. She pulled the skirts to her knees. Causing him to inhale. She could tell he was chaste. That he had made his vows. But wanted to dance on the dangerous side with her. She could do that. She wanted to do this. Even with him. Her chaste Templar. Her chaste husband.

She moved, sitting in his lap. Straddling his hips. Her hands on his shoulders. Her nose touched his while looking into his eyes. Asking if this was okay. If he was okay.

His harsh kiss was all she needed. His hands snaked up her shoulders to pull her closer to him. His tongue melded and collided. His hot breath over her flushed skin sent shivers of heat across her body. Her hips rolled. He threw his head back at her friction. A soft vocal moan escaped his throat as her lower lip dragged across his skin. His hands dropped to her hips to stop her. His strong hands held her being ineffective as he grazed his teeth across her throat. Her own exhale of pleasure caused her body to contract, rolling against him again. He gave in. His hand moved to her rear and squeezed as his other hand trailed up her body. Kissing her as he felt the skin of her breast. His thumb caressed her chin as they kissed. Deeper. Learning and loving each touch of new skin. His chest was solid beneath her fingers. The soft flesh moved like velvet at each grab and touch.

His breathing hitched and he tried to center himself. But his dragging hands, lips, teeth across her skin did little to foster his sense of reality. His struggle only made her smile more. His hands struggled to find one piece of her dress that appealed to him for long.

His face dipped low. Kissing at the plump flesh of her breasts as he raised his hips. Kicking the table further back and sat further into the couch. His legs spreading wider and forced her to sit higher on his hips. Their sexes aligned but separated by the fabric. He pulled back, watching her with new courage as his hand slipped under the skirts. His fingertips trailing her thigh. She watched his hand disappear beneath the folds. Feeling each inch he ascended as her muscles tensed at his warm touch. She looked at him, seeing his lusted smile and hazed eyes as he watched her. Her heartbeat feaster at his gaze. She leaned forward, offering him more. His hips bucked at the new contact. He pulled her down by her hair gently. Kissing her.

She tried to remember his vows. But was drunk on his scent and taste and feel. Her senses only focused on the man below her. She took his hands in hers. Pinning them above him to gain some control over herself before she went too far.

Cullen seized under her. His eyes were wide as he looked at her. His pants of breath became shorter as he pulled away. She leaned back. Realizing what she had just done. She released his hands. An apology in her tongue. Without hesitation, on instinct, his hands fisted and he drained her Magicka. Her stomach clenched like had been punched. She leaned forward over him. He sat up quickly. Almost throwing her to the floor.

She backed off. Standing before him. Adjusting her skirting to fall back to its floor-length. "I'm sorry." She whispered slowly. "I-"

Cullen leaned forward and hid his face. "No, I-I'm sorry. That." He took a shaking breath and stood with her. He looked her over and bit his lips. He took a step back. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, and took another step so she was out of his grasp. Moving awkwardly to hide his erection that she tried not to notice. "I'm terribly sorry." He said with an embarrassed smile. "Uh" he looked her over again and had to breathe. He cleared his throat and turned away. She stepped behind him as he tried to retreat. He looked down at her with a curious look. She bounced her chest. He looked away with a blushing smile. "Stop that."

She smiled at his plight. "If that's all, Commander." She took a step back and he turned to see her. She bowed deeply and turned. She opened the north door only to have him shut it above her before it was fully opened. His other hand came around her middle and slid the locking latch in place. Her heart raced in her chest again. What was he doing? "Commander?" Her tone did not hide the smile of victory on her face.

His breathing was deep as he stood behind her. His breath made cooling waves over her neck. Her back arched and touched his warm skin.

His hands moved slowly from the door to her stomach and over her shoulders. Held her to him as he moved. Drawing his nose up her neck to the back of her ear. His lips gently kissed her neck as her body went taught in his arms. Her breathing ragged as his lips dragged across her skin. Up to her ear. Her hand moved instinctively to his hair. Grabbing his hidden curls. Pulling him closer.

His hand on her stomach wrapped around her waist. Pulling her. Making her bend slightly. Her rear jutting into his crotch and feeling his buckles for his lower armor in her back. Her shoulders held to his chest. Unmoving. He lowered his face into her shoulder. Taking deep breaths across her skin. His arms over her shoulders trembled slightly as he held her.

He didn't move. Silent seconds as he just held her. His breathing seemed more labored. She saw a slight pull at his brows as he turned to kiss her neck. "Valok?" His movements were slower than before. His arms loosened around her. "What's wrong?" Uthreida turned slightly to look at him. Wanting to know what he was thinking. He stepped back. Licking his lips and looking away from her. He unlocked the door and turned.

Her jaw tightened. Something was on his mind and he wasn't sharing. He seemed to forgive at her pin but this? It was frightening and scared her. She slammed the lock shut. He turned at the sound.

They looked down at one another. In silence demanding to know what he was thinking and he was ashamed to admit something. A hesitation. Something.

He rubbed his neck looking at the doors they were by. He looked away. "I'm sorry. I" he sighed.

She shook her head. "No, I moved without thought. I-"

He looked away. Swallowing. Fisting a hand and she felt her heart sink in his silence. "I shouldn't have attacked you. Like…that. I'm sorry."

"Bit unusual given the character, but I'll allow it. Are you alright?"

He looked at her only a moment before hiding again. "Fine." He turned to walk. "I have a few more things to work through before the nights over. I'll let you return to your quarters."

Uthreida jutted her jaw at his dismissal. "What is this?"

"What?" His tone distracted as he read over parchments.

She slapped his hand to drop the parchment and look at her. "What is going on?"

"Nothing." He stated with a glair. But the longer he looked at her. His irritation gave way to pain. He looked away, brows curling and crossing his arms. "It's nothing."

She stepped into his space. "It's something. What is it?" She asked softer. Wanting to know why he's running. "I know it's more than just the pin I put you in. Please."

"It doesn't matter." He said with clenched teeth.

"It matters to me." She retorted quickly. He met her gaze and she lowered her voice. "What is it?"

He looked away. Searching for the courage to speak. Her hands moved to hold his, to help him. "I've ah…been thinking. This war won't always be here. Things are different now."

"What do you mean?"

"I've never been in a situation of so many possibilities. And so, I've been, uh, wondering" he looked at her, searching her eyes before looking away again "what comes after? For me? I can't exactly go back to being a Templar."

Uthreida watching him rant. Realized what he was asking. What he was saying and how he was lying to her. Her jaw slacked as she looked at him. He wanted her to stay. With him. In Thedas. He honestly wanted her to stay. The hints. The dreams.

A home away from the people like you know and he. To raise the babes of promised compromise. The land matters not, but only if the home is enough. If he is enough.

She exhaled as she looked away. But Skyrim. She look up to see him still in mid-sentence as he spoke to himself. But Cullen.

"What do you think?"

She forgot how to speak. Her heart hammered in her chest at the actual silent conversation between them rather than the forced lie. The desire for him but the responsibilty of her people.

"Utha?"

She blinked and looked away. She had made her position known. She intended to leave. Ulfric couldn't be trusted. She crowned him. it was her fault. She had to go back. She licked her lips and decided to avoid the conversation as he did. Not wanting to make the decision now. "As the general who stopped Corypheus, I'm certain your name will become renowned to other courts. I'm sure you'll be hired in no time." She smiled kindly at him pulling her hand back from him.

He watched her make the distance he wanted. "I'm sure your right." He said quickly, folding his arms again. Her body growing that much colder.

She looked at him, his adverted eyes and protective movements of what he wanted to show. She forced another smirk. "Though, political wars isn't exactly something you're too keen on. Certainly, the Chantry will have an advisory position for something."

He nodded slowly. "Right."

"Aye." She backed away from him. Letting her own discomfort of discussing an improbable future be made known. He wanted to know exactly what her plans were. Where she fit. In his life. Here. And…she didn't know. Let alone where he would fit in hers. He mentioned he wanted to go. To Skyrim. Didn't he? He would not do well sitting by the hearth of Lakehouse. Waiting on her. Acting as a Karl of some Hold. Her Karl. She wanted this, him, but not here. And he wanted her, here, not there. One forced away from their home. She bit her lip as she held herself against the slight breeze in his office. She turned to replace her boots. "I'll let you get back to work." He looked away from her. His jaw tightened at the conversation he wanted versus the one he got. "Do you want me to come back?"

"We've both had a long day. It's quite alright. I wouldn't ask that of you." His forced smile made her drop her eyes.

"Of course." Her heart dropped to her stomach.

"Good night, Uthreida." The use of her full name made her take a step back. A hardness, coldness filled her. He was running. She nodded slowly, chewing the inside of her lip as she walked away. "You-"

She turned at his voice that died on his lips. He moved some parchment on his desk, pretending he didn't just speak.

Uthreida lowered her eyes, unlocked the door, and kept walking. When the door closed, the sound of a fist hit the thick wood of his desk. Uthreida bit her lips as she walked. Just as cowardly as he was. And too afraid to admit the words on the tip of her tongue.

xxxxx

He was aware of her rousing as she ground against him. He smirked, letting her. If she keeps this up, on second thought, he didn't want to know where this was going to end up. Falling in and out of consciousness, all he knew is that he felt warmth and protection. Her scent filled his lungs and her breasts in his hands.

Wait-

Whatever.

He took a moment to rub his thumb across her hard nipples. He found a sense of masculine pride in her pert flesh that caused a smirk on his lips. The blissful black of sleep pulled him in like the days of ineptitude from Royoc and the flairs from Josephine weren't helping matters. But here, her room became a place to forget. A place of sanctuary from his life. In her arms lied eternity. And was blessed to have these few small moments.

The warmth of her body encased in her furs was almost too hot. But he dared not wake the woman in his arms. Her rear placed precariously on the right side of sin. It was both thrilling and somehow shameful as she wasn't affected by his physical reactions. But rather was comforted by them. So much so, as to allow his member to rest on her inner thigh or cleft throughout the night.

She rolled her hips again against him. Stroking his hardened member more. He kissed her neck to make her calm down. She arched her back, moving her hands to something before falling back to sleep.

Back to sleep.

Back to the void.

Back to the knifes edge of sanity.

So peaceful.

So warm.

The way she fit in his arms. Mounded to his body.

He felt her warmth engulf him again. And she made a sound in her sleep. Maker. The sounds she made. Her scent. Her soft skin beneath his fingertips. His fingertips trailed down her sternum. She pressed herself against him again. He thrust back to get her to stop and felt her warmth all around him. Maker, the woman was a fire.

She pressed against him again, more needing and insentient. She threw a leg over his. He trusted against her to make her stop and felt her hum throughout his body. His hand moved to her thigh and felt the sweet soft flesh of it. His hand drowsily moved lower to her juncture and felt his own shaft. His eyes open wide.

What?

He had enough sense to realize that he was inside of her. Her heat materializing from the head sent shivers down his shaft to his spine.

She lazily tried to push into him. To make him go deeper.

He felt his core tighten and his fingers dig into her thigh. His breath hitched. Maker, she felt amazing. And she was right about one thing, they fit. Rather well. His hips bucked at the idea and he felt himself slip further into her.

This is wrong. He had to stop. Stop her. Stop this.

He gently shook her to wake her up. "Uthreida" he whispered urgently. When she didn't respond, he did it again. She gave a groggy groan, her hand coming up to fist his hair as she pushed into him again. He placed a hand on her hip to stop. He took stock of their situation. Her nightdress had ridden up to her chest, her small clothes, fastened by a knot on the side, laid open to him, and his back was pressed flush to the brick wall.

He cursed and shook her again, feeling the word grow colder around him while his cock was deliciously warm. "Uthreida" she offered her neck to him while her hand grew tighter in his hair. "Wake up." He demanded.

She rolled slightly and pulled his head towards her. Her blue eyes opened to see his as their foreheads touched. He watched her go from lust to recognition, to realization. Her eyes dropped to between them to back to him. She released his hair as if it was fire and slowly brought her leg back to herself. Shame, betrayal, and cynicism all crossed her features in a matter of a second.

He licked his lips and felt the world-ending embarrassment flood him. "Could could could you" damn stutter

She looked confused, looking at him, then the ceiling, then the window, then their connection. "Uhh." Cullen took a deep breath and sealed his eyes as he waited for her to order him off or out or – "Should we stop?"

"Uhh" Cullen could only look at her face in confusion and insecurity.

"Dibella's already put this into play but,"

Did he want to, Maker yes! Is this a good idea? No. Technically they are married. But for how long? He took a deep breath. "Yes."

"We should stop."

"No, I mean," he sighed, covering his face to hide inarticulation. He's already messed this up.

Uthreida took the initiative and removed her leg from over him and pulled herself from him. Her heat now missing from his body that made him what to bring her back, but she turned on the bed to look at him. "What of your vows?"

Cullen lowered his brows quickly. "What vows?"

"Of Chasity?" She chided with a smile.

He blinked slowly. "I've taken no such vows."

"What!" She says up on the bed with a look of death at him. "You mean to tell me that" she ran a hand through her long hair in anger. "You never corrected me."

"It never" he shrugged, "seemed appropriate."

"Are you serious?" she took a deep breath. "I've been going at a sails pace for you."

"Thank you?" He shook his head to clear it. "Wait, what?"

Uthreida quickly threw the blankets from them with a scowl at him. He wanted to whine at missing her heat. Maybe this was for the best. Even though he's wanted her, was allowed to touch her, she touched him in the most delightfully painful ways. Maker, yes. He wanted to, but it was her choice.

She pulled an apothecary bag from her pack and poured a cup of liquor. She added a few berries from the satchel. She gave the cup a quick spin and sat it on the table next to the bed. She sat next to him with a smile. She looked over him with a pained brow. "Are you sure?"

Cullen sat up in the bed slowly. "Uh, with your consent, if you think, ah," He cleared his throat only to laugh at himself and his own ineptitude.

"Are you going to be-."

"I-" he met her eyes and saw what she was thinking. He had stepped away so many times when it was getting too heated between them in fear. And she was afraid it would happen again. "I honestly don't know. But, that is, I mean, if you, ah, want, I certainly won't deny."

She chuckled as he mentally winched at his own statement. She leaned into him. Kissing his lips and her hands went to his shoulders. Softly. Slowly. Gently. Dropping to his chest. He held her face as her tongue darted to taste his. Pushed him down on the bed as they kissed. Their hands roamed the body of the other as their kisses became heated, feverish, and sloppy. Cullen had to pull away to catch his breath as she went for his throat. His blood pooled in his lions as the air escaped his lungs.

She sat up and rolled him on his back, moved to straddle his hips. Her thin gown went up to her thighs as she sat on his open lap. He looked at her with wide eyes as the light of the moon was the only source. Her hands slowly dropped over his chest and abdomen leaving a trail of fire that was put out by the coldness of her room. Her fingers hit the waistband of his open trousers. He felt his lungs leave him as she removed her thin nightdress. Pulling it up and over her head and tossed it to the floor.

In the low light, he could make out the pink of her nipples, her full breasts, the swell of her hips, her ribs moving with anticipatory breath, and the prickling of so many scars. She took his hands and placed them on her hips and breast. His fingers trailed up her stomach, taking in her soft, warm skin as she positioned herself over him. He ran a hand up her chest and pulled her down to him by holding her hair in a loose fist. He pulled her down to him. Taking her lips only for her to bite his lower lips. Her tongue danced with his as her fingers scaled over the scars of his chest. She licked, sucked, and bit his neck. His arms wrapped around her as the air was forced from his lungs. The blood in his body rushed to his engorged member that was frantically looking for her heat again. He let her up only to take one breast into his mouth. Teasing her nipples with his tongue. Maker. She was gorgeous. Her tattoos, sarcasm. She sat up. She reached for whatever she had put in the cup and chewed. She spit it into her hand and touched herself. Cullen watched fascinated and having no idea what she was doing. She leaned down. Kissed him. He tasted brandy and a tang of something else. He held her hair in his hand as the other reached for her ass. Cupping the fat and muscles to rub against him. She placed a hand over his heart as she pushed onto him. He let her heat envelop him again. His hands went to her hips as she rode him slowly. Her hips rolled as if wanting to feel every inch of him inside of her.

Maker, she was-

His jaw slacked as he rolled his head back. Letting her take what she wanted from him. As he held her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh and grabbing what he could. Her sweet scent filled his nose and lungs and heart and almost tipped him into excisity. Her soft, breathless moan bucked his hips to meet her.

His eyes opened slowly, he wanted to see her. To see her eyes, to watch her as they reached-

His heart climbed into his throat. The darkness of the room made her hair look darker. Brunette. Like hers. Like Sam.

Uthreida held onto the headboard to drive him deeper and threw her head back. He could swear he saw elven ears. Her body moved just like his nightmare. The rolling movement of her hips and her body's movement to the forced stop of her drop. Her breasts bounced with her movements and the horns on her head tilted as she looked down at him with reflecting eyes and a malicious, lusted smile. Her hands went under his shirt to touch him. Her nails dragged across his chest and drew blood. His blood.

He closed his eyes. It's Uthreida. Not the demons. He wrapped his arms over her shoulders and pulled her down to him. Trying to focus on the sweet friction on his member. Her breathless moans filled his ears. Hearing the second ring in her voice.

He couldn't move. He felt the chains that held him to the floor as the demons and Samurilla took from him what they wanted. Unable to fight them. To break free. His voice caught as the demon choked him.

His eyes fell to her thick curls at her junction and only see the means of his children that he slaughtered. Will slighter. To hide his shame from the Order. His secrets. His sins.

The demon stopped riding him and looked between them. Her eyes met his with a concerned expression, but he saw the smile on her face at his shame. "Are you alright?" Its voice was slightly breathless as it looked down at him.

Cullen realized that he was hyperventilating, his hands holding the sheets tighter than he should have. Maker, why? His soft member fell from her opening. He released her quickly, looking away from her to hide his shame. Biting his lip and tasting blood.

"Cullen?"

He swallowed back his fear but his shaking breath gave him away. Forcing himself to calm down. To breathe through the trauma.

She moved to cup his face. He jumped away from her touch. She pulled her hand back and he was too ashamed to see the expression on her face.

"Kaan drev ov." She whispered.

Cullen took a forced air into his lungs as the anxiety washed away from him. The fear, the trauma, gone, as he laid back against the bed. But the thoughts the memories, even if his body wasn't afraid, his mind was still terrified. And ashamed.

She just gave herself to him. Why was his body doing this?

She cleared her throat awkwardly and moved to get off of him. Her silence was thicker than any shield. Cullen hid his face with both hands when she got up from the bed. Taking a blanket to cover herself. He clenched he's his jaw. Why was this happening? He was hard when she touched him. He was hard in his sleep. Maker, he's pleasured himself to the memory of her. Her scent was on the pillows of his room. Why is this different? Why can't he do this, willingly, with her now?

She slowly moved from his lap and sat beside him with a smirk. "It is a wee bit cold." Cullen looked away, his anger and resentment resurfacing at her light-handed approach to this. "Perhaps we can try another time. It's quite common and I'm not off-put by it. You have a very stressful job, Cullen. I won't hold that against you."

He swallowed. Unsure of how to respond. Unsure of the appropriate action. Does he apologize, blame her, kill himself from shame.

He sat up, looking at the shriveled penis with resentment. He shook his head. "I don't-."

"It's alright. It happens to the best-"

"Don't." He stated with heat. "Don't condescend to me." She moved to take a step away from him. Creating the distance he wanted. The distance he deserved. He rubbed his forehead in guilt. "I'm sorry. I-" he swallowed the truth, the fear she would tell others. "I thought I was ready, but" his addiction and habit may have been broken, but the trauma was still there.

"Cullen." She arched for his hand but he pulled it away viscously. Whatever she was about to say to comfort, he could tell her smile fell as she curled away from him. The heavy silence weighed him down and he tried to breathe through it. Forcing a calming aura for the room that wasn't working.

Uthreida stood slowly, placing her sleeping gown back over her head and stood so it dropped back to her ankles. "To clarify, this has nothing to do with me being a pagan or a mage, right?" Cullen clenched his fists in anger. Saying nothing and now knowing she blamed his world perceptions rather than the truth. She took another step away from him as the silence echoed off the stones around them. "I see." She took a breath and stood.

He pulled his hands to his face to silently pray to the Maker for forgiveness. This was not the intention. She shot back the rest of the drink she poured. Her back to him. She was allowing him a chance to leave without recoil or conversation. To be honest, he wanted the confrontation. He wanted the argument. At least then, anything that happened then would be understood. But all he could think was how sheer her dress was against her window. How her waistline dipped in and created a flawless curve of her hips. How she was slimmer then he thought given her usual armor and clothing.

He looked at the ceiling again taking another breath before he sat up. Needing this..thing, these blasted memories, to recede as much as possible. He scooted to the edge of the bed, reaching for his boots. His mind racing with what she must be thinking. He placed on a boot and six new questions came to his mind. What was he thinking? How did he let it get this far? What was he supposed to do now? How does she feel? Why did he say that? Does she need...something? Is it weird to hug her now? Did she want him or whatever she was dreaming of?

He pulled on his second boot, realizing she hasn't looked at him since she left the bed. Or said anything. To be fair though, neither did he. He tightened the lacing around his calf. Did she want it? He let his eyes rest on her as he finished. Her shoulders were relaxed as she looked out the window. Her face was neutral. Masked. She was always so animated about everything. Why is she closed off now? He needed to say something. Do something? Her fingers gently caressed the tankard in her hands. She's scared. What he said was unkind. He needed to make this up. Be needed to apologize but I'm sorry doesn't cover the fact he-

She-

They-

Maker, what should he do?

He wanted to hold her, but her stance and distance seems too far. He wanted her scent one more time, but that time is gone now. He never wanted this. He never wanted to hurt her. He just wanted-

He clinched he's his jaw and stood. She was so small. Helpless. Alone. He stepped towards her his hand outstretched.

And she turned away.

He felt his heart hit the floor. He felt it roll to her feet and she didn't even register it. He wanted to speak. He wanted to touch her, but instead, he bit his lip, and reached for his cloak. He moved it so it laid on his shoulders and turned his back to leave.

"What now?" She whispered. He turned to see her still looking away from him. He didn't know.

His mind raced to the beginning. How she came to him for comfort. How she hid away from him only to have him return the favor caused more fear in her of his people.

The point, the whole point, was comfort and healing under the guise of sleep. To give into social expectations of their marriage. "We're good, right?" He asked his hands that were useless. "I mean, we can sleep through the night now. We aren't plagued by nightmares anymore, right?" He asked his feet, unable to move. Feeling the lie that circled his stomach like poison.

"Right." She whispered back.

His heart stopped. "We should probably end this then. Right?"

Her momentary pause made him look at her. To see her response. But she kept her back turned, one arm over as if to comfort herself. But her voice was strong. "Right."

She didn't choke. She didn't lie. She- "Right" his repeat was absent-minded as he looked at the door. Feeling the vacancy in his chest. The wood seems so far away now. And she and the bed were right there. He turned his head to look at her but stopped. She is a heathen. He's Andrastian. She's a mage and he's a Templar. This wasn't supposed to happen, right? They were at war. They are just so different, right? She couldn't want anything more of him. From him. He's just another stupid Templar in her eyes. He was nothing to her. He meant nothing to her. Just a body to keep her warm. This was nothing. Once the war is over, she'll leave. She'll return to the King. She'll go home. There's nothing permanent keeping her here, right? This was, all of this, was temporary. Right? This feeling of pain of rejection, and betrayal, and disgust is temporary, right? "Right." His own voice was foreign to himself as he spoke. He felt the plunge of a dagger in his chest as he walked to the door. His hand resting on the latch. He should apologize. He should save this. This was wrong. Walking away was wrong. He had to do something. He had to save this.

He pulled the latch and shut the door quietly behind him. He felt the cold winds of the mountains surround him as he pulled the cloak tighter to himself. His mind and body were numb as he walked the battlements. Not caring who saw or who talked. He felt empty. Cold. And alone.

He felt like a coward. He felt like he should've fought. He should have taken her into his arms. He should've swallowed his pride and apologized. He should've done…something. Anything. Anything was better than the nothing he just walked away from.

He felt like he could do anything after a night with her, and now. She had the right question. Now what?

More war table meeting where he's falling asleep standing up?

More invasion plans on little to no food?

More nights of panic and demons?

More cold nights, staring at the ceiling, and feeling the impending loneliness as it becomes too much to bear?

More...nothing?

He watched his breath puff in smoke only to be carried with the wind. Now what?

He reached his office, slowly shutting the door behind him. Now what?

"Commander."

Cullen turned instantly at the intrudion of his thoughts. Liliana sat behind his desk. Smiling sweetly, even if she had a handprint on her cheek where she fell asleep waiting on him.

Why is she here? Cullen put on a fake smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Has something new come up?"

"No, no. Just thought I'd come by for a talk."

Cullen looked her over in skepticism. She was wearing her usual armor, and her usual eyes looked directly into his soul. "To talk?"

"Yes." Her smile was still as sweet.

"This early?"

"Yes," she stood slowly. "I wanted to discuss something with you without it being overheard by your guard rotations. Besides, early mornings are nothing new for you." Her eyes dropped to his person, only to smile again when she looked into his eyes. She knows.

He did what he could to keep it off his face. "The war room is usually off the rotation. Wouldn't you prefer to do it there?"

"No," she said, rounding the desk, "I'd prefer to do it here. Where you feel comfortable."

"Ah" he slowly removed his cloak, unsure of what this was all about. "What can I do for you then?"

Liliana rested against his desk and folded her arms as he hung the cloak on the random nail by the door. "I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

He looked at her. She seemed innocent enough. Or as innocent as the left hand can be. "What do you need?"

She gave a smirk as she stood tall. "Lady Uthreida has a scroll. I'd like for you to get for me."

Cullen felt his heart stop. "A scroll."

"Yes. It's quite large. It's white and gold. Has a few jewels on it. I'd like for you to bring it to me."

Cullen scoffed. "Why me?"

"Because she locks her door."

"Never stopped you before."

She gave a forced smile as she crossed her arms. "Her lock is something we've never seen before. Yes, it's a Fereldan lock but she's tampered with it. It's metal and magic. The mages don't know how to open it without the locksmith and the locksmith doesn't know how to open it without the mages."

"So teach the mages how to pick a lock."

"They refuse. Something about a blood seal."

He stopped dead in his tracks towards his desk. "A what?"

"Minor, minor blood magic. Basically, the lock won't open unless you possess the blood to open it. Herself and -"her eyes dragged over him again with a smirk.

She knew. Makers breath. Of course, she knew. Wait a second. Minor blood magic. Blood seal. That he can open. No, no. She warned this would happen. That they would call her this. Or, she knew they would because she was- He took a deep breath and let her see it. After what just happened, there's no sense in hiding it now. What's done is done. "What do you want from me?"

"Get me that scroll."

"Why? What is it?"

"Don't know." She said confidently. "She refused to let us see it when she got here. Saying it held her destiny and that it was dangerous. I want to see it. Examine it."

"Why do you want it?"

"That's not really any of your concern. Nor are you in a position to argue." Her tone final.

He felt his anger rise in his throat. She was threatening her. She was threatening him. "Why is that?"

She arched a brow. "Really? Cullen? You should have seen this coming."

He felt his nose twitch as he looked her over. Now? She chooses now? "What do you want?" He demanded. Willing to do anything to keep her safe.

"You know what I want."

"Or what?"

He shouldn't have asked that. Her smile, that articulated brow raised. He played right into her hands. "Perhaps, we should take a page from your book. How would Knight-Captain Cullen deal with Templars cavorting with blood mages?"

"That's not my title." He retorted quickly to show he was no longer that man. As well as trying to avoid the issue.

"No? Is that not who you are? So willing to turn a blind eye until it suits your purpose?" She pushed herself off the desk to take a few calculated steps towards him "So willing to believe the machinations of an insane woman to keep the masses calm." He clenched his jaw as she laid all his sins before him. "So willing to 'protect' those you love." He looked away from her. Her tone made each word a razor that cut a little deeper. "I want that scroll."

His eyes were drawn towards the wood of his office. His body taught and the perceived actions that he knew all too well. "I don't think I can get it."

"Oh" her tone more knowing than she let on. "Are you admitting to being a thrall who cannot betray her?"

"No."

"Then what's the issue?" His mind went back to seeing Uthreida, holding herself as he walked away. "Has she finally seen through you?" He clenched his jaw. In a way.

"It's grown complicated."

"Then, uncomplicate it, Commander" she demanded. "The sooner I have that scroll, the longer you two live." Cullen wanted to punch her. He wanted to rip her to pieces. But she had him. If he moved against her, she'd kill them both. She crossed the room to stand before him in a power play. "As a reminder, if you run, you will be admitting to being a thrall and will be considered an outlaw and she will die without her knight to protect her."

She walked past him and Cullen could feel his anger well in his chest. "Based on what?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"What will your accusations be based on?"

She gave a soft chuckle. "Well, Knight Captain, if memory serves, rumor and lack of compliance are enough to brand one a heretic or apostate." Her chuckle rang a little longer. "How many people did you complain about her to? How many times did you say she was a handful? How many times did you dig her grave?" Cullen closed his eyes, wishing he had been more understanding. More attentive. Wishing he had been a better Commander. A better man.

"You know." She said offhand. "When you first showed up with Cassandra, I had no idea what she saw in you. But recently, every time you speak, all I can hear is Sam, crying into my shoulder about how much she hated herself for letting you live after everything you did to her in that tower. I hoped your torture was worth it. I hoped you knew what it feels like to be a mage, forced to live under the lecherous gaze of Templar's day in and day out. But you haven't. You've been fed position after position that you haven't earned. Walking around here like we don't know what you did. Like all your sins have been absolved. So you turn to the naïve foreigner so you can play the wounded dog." She paused, turning to look at his back as she spoke. "You're weak and pathetic. And ripe for the picking."

Her heels hit the wood as she exited his office. Cullen stood stark still. Liliana held their worse fear. And it no longer mattered what he said. What he did. They will see a blood mage and her pet Templar. Liliana will kill her. He'll fail her too.

He walked to his desk. Forcing his breath to remain calm when all he wanted to be was erratic. There had to be a way around this. A way out. Looking at the map below him on his desk, he saw the strategic locations they picked up. Her talk of being foreign, her connection to a King, his complaints of her, her mysterious magic, her refusal to kill certain dragons, their growing closer together, her failure to kill the dragon, and now, his betrayal to her. Maker. He's killed her. He's killed Uthreida. He killed the woman he once thought would never die. He's killed the woman who's brought him the most aggravation and peace. He's killed the one woman who's made him feel whole.

His failures mounted. His incapability to actually do anything useful. All came out in a primal scream as he slid his arms across the desk. Months of work, placement, everything crashed to the floor. It's all his fault. This is all his fault. This war is his fault.

He slid down the front of his desk, his hands in his hair as the tears stung the back of his eyes. He can't protect her. He can't protect anything.