A/N: Thank you for reading!

...-...

Skyhold was not as they had left it.

Cullen noticed the difference in the road leading into the mountains first and foremost. It was wider and so much more worn and traveled that he hardly recognized it.

Ser Barris had ridden down to meet them upon hearing of their return, and he made a joke about a few soldiers looking like they wanted to check the maps to make sure they were at the right place. While Cullen had simply rolled his eyes, it had been a comfort to know he wasn't the only one taken by surprise.

One the road back, there were more people than he'd expected, as well. Refugees, mages, templars, builders, messengers.

At the time, he'd thought it a miracle that no one was picking a fight on the road.

When they reached the valley, however, he saw the real miracle.

Their ragtag camp near the river was almost entirely reformed.

When they had left, there had been three permanent structures being built in the valley, barracks, an inn, and another housing project that Leliana and Josephine had assured him they would oversee.

Now, those were finished, along with half a dozen other buildings, and more in the making.

Refugee children ran alongside the army as they marched home. Inquisition banners marked the main road and other smaller ones that had been worn through the blossoming village, and they flew off the castle in dark, brilliant multitudes.

The wonder of what they had come home to vanished in an instant when he heard a man in the crowd say, "I don't see him yet, love. I thought he was with Sarren's group, but maybe he was moved…"

They had lost almost a third of their soldiers in the fight at Adamant, and left behind a decent number to be tended to at the keep. People were going to notice the smaller numbers far too quickly.

He would need to make sure everyone was properly notified.

A bulletin board perhaps, listing those who had honored the Inquisition with their lives?

No, that felt to flippant.

A monument maybe.

Though people would need to be informed before that would be finished.

Maker, but this was going to be hard. On them, on him, on morale.

They had won, but they had lost so many in the process.

It felt like an empty victory, almost as costly as Haven.

A bulletin would be the most efficient way to inform people, and it would be better than hearing by word of mouth from friends.

He'd already composed the list on the ride back and it was with reluctance that he handed it off to be posted somewhere where everyone could find it. The soldier had mentioned something about a market square forming and headed in what Cullen assumed to be its direction.

He gave the word that those with families were welcome to go to them and led the rest up to the barracks that had been built near the bridge crossing to the castle, and onward.

Leliana found him in the stables and welcomed him back with a quick quip that he missed—something about his hair or…

"Here."

…-...

Cullen ran his fingers through his hair ignoring the way his locks curled around his fingers. He'd deal with them another day.

For now, it was just good to be clean.

He'd felt like he might have a headache growing in the back of his head ever since Adamant, but it had been merciful. He was ridiculously tired, and he could hear that song in the back of his mind, ever present, but it was dull, and he was in control.

He was, wasn't he?

Wearing a simple tunic and breeches tucked into a new pair of boots that had been left beside his bed with a note from Josephine about the one who had gifted it to him, he went down into his office. Ser Barris had already tidied up, with notes on several piles detailing what they were for. Mostly, just things he thought Cullen would need to read up on or find interesting.

And then there was a new stack, not as neat as the rest, already forming that he knew had to be new reports.

Never a moment's rest, was there?

To throw himself into his work would be good. It would keep him distracted from the call of lyrium and the questions in his head about Finley and his own past.

He'd given Leliana Finley's history without much of a word, and she hadn't pestered him about it. When he'd reached the stairs, he'd glanced back to see if she was still there, but she'd already disappeared.

And then he had gotten into his room and found they'd somehow gotten a bath basin in the room and that the water was still hot.

Cullen wasn't one for indulgences, but Maker that water had felt wonderful. It had soothed a dozen aches he hadn't realized he even had.

And it had been a murky mess by the time he'd pulled himself out, grimacing as he ran a wet cloth over his skin again to get any remnants of the grime that might still cling to him. He should have done that first.

Regardless, he hadn't been disturbed once, and it was...unsettling.

Originally, he'd thought to head over to see what Leliana had to say about what he'd given her, but as he'd turned away from his desk, he'd happened to look out his small window at the village below.

The view was too narrow, and he stepped out onto the ramparts to look down.

Maker, but this had the makings of a town more than a village.

A town in the middle of nowhere.

Though, that was how they all started, he supposed.

"There are unofficial districts already," Leliana's voice came from beside him, and he snapped his head toward her, eyes wide. She pretended not to notice his surprise and pointed to the furthest point from the river, to the crisp building that was already standing proud and the others that were in the works. "The mages have all but claimed the northern side of the valley. I doubt they intended to keep so much to themselves, but others are wary."

There was a hint of bitterness in Leliana's voice as she spoke. Cullen ignored it, inspecting the area more carefully. "If the builders have a problem, they don't seem to show it."

"They are well picked for the job," Leliana stated. He could hear her smirk without looking. "Coming closer, we have the barracks and possibly another armory, should the castle's not be enough."

"A military district, then."

"That's what they are calling it." Leliana didn't seem interested in that, though Cullen's gaze lingered on the spot longer. He could see the training grounds were much better marked than before, and the barracks, for all its simplicity, was a thing of beauty.

Tents still skirted both areas, and the next, though they were considerably fewer than he remembered.

"...annoyed that they seem to have taken residence around the Chantry."

"What?" Cullen finally looked away from the north of the valley to the south. Across from the 'military district' was a chantry—much like Haven's—and a few smaller buildings that echoed the barracks' structure.

"The templars have taken residence around the Chantry," Leliana repeated. "It has ruffled some feathers."

"Mages?"

"Not all," Leliana said, though she did nod to him. "There are many here who had homes ransacked by the templars during the war. They do not like having to walk through so many to pay homage to the Maker and his Bride."

"Have there been problems?"

"No, surprisingly enough," Leliana pointed. "Ser Barris makes sure that no patrols have only templars in their ranks. The mages do not argue, so long as the templars do not point fingers." Even as Cullen frowned, she motioned again. "Mages are, of course, in the patrols as well, just as you ordered."

Cullen nodded. He had wanted the army to be united and had tried to merge the templars and mages both into its ranks before he'd left, though he hadn't been sure how well that would be upheld in his absence.

He shouldn't have doubted Ser Barris.

"What do you suggest we do about the Chantry?"

"We have more templars than we expected, even with the order being disbanded. More come in every day. They gravitate to what they know."

"I imagine it does make lyrium distribution easier," Cullen murmured, hating how that song in the back of his head sang out more clearly at its mention.

"True," Leliana said, leaning against the battlements. "But it does not change that we must...do something. Other Chantry folk are joining with the templars, but it is not enough right now. It will be something to discuss with the inquisitor."

"Of course," Cullen murmured, wondering exactly how that would play out. She'd likely be happy to toss the templars out all together, now that the sky was closed.

Funny that they'd never talked about that.

"The last district is the least organized." Leliana pointed to the south eastern part. It had the most tents along the water, with three buildings in a row along the main road and a few others in the works. "The refugees and tradesmen have been busy. It looks like we may have a proper mainstreet in a few more months."

"What will they do when this is over, I wonder." Cullen stared out idly, but when he finally looked to Leliana, she simply shrugged.

"Who can say what lies in the future?"

Cullen turned back toward the valley and its construction. It was as though the people expected to be out here forever…

What would they do when the Inquisition's purpose was fulfilled? When their influence waned and there were no new resources coming in?

This seemed folly, but at the same time, he understood not wanting to sleep in tents for however long it would take for them to defeat Corypheus—if they could.

"We suffered heavy losses at Adamant," Cullen said, turning his back from the valley, already thinking about the towers they would need to put up around it. They couldn't afford to be unprepared for another attack.

Leliana nodded. "We received your reports, as well as some from Griffon Wing Keep. I hear many of our soldiers are recovering well. Some plan to start the return trip here in the next day or so."

The next half hour was filled with recounts of what had gone on here and at Adamant, of expanding influence and tracking the Venatori and Red Templars.

The Venatori seemed to have been centered around the warden's keep, and with that taken and their demon army destroyed, it seemed that they were all but obsolete.

No. That would be foolish to brush them off so.

Their numbers were depleted, at least for now, however, and that meant turning their focus onto finding the corrupted templars and their leaders.

"Do we know what Corypheus' next move is?" Cullen asked. They had moved back into his office for a time before heading to the War room.

Josephine had been attending to some nobles and had simply given them a small nod as they slipped by.

The war table was...as full as ever. Moreso.

As Cullen skimmed the markers, noticing a few rift markers were placed in both Nevarra and the Free Marches, with only a handful left in Ferelden, Leliana leaned against the other side of the table.

"We do not."

"He's likely displeased with his demon army destroyed."

With a laugh, Leliana shook her head. "No doubt. I am sure we will be seeing retaliation for that soon enough. We have more information on his generals, though." When Cullen looked up at her, she crossed her arms. "There are two. A Tevinter woman named Calpernia leads the Venatori—"

"Not Erimond, then?" Cullen asked, bitter bile in the back of his throat. When they'd captured the mage responsible for the forces at Adamant, he had hoped… Of course it would not be so easy.

"The mage you brought with you? No. He is high ranking, though. Now she has only one lieutenant left, though things have been very quiet with him since we let slip that his son died. Gereon Alexius. I think whatever he was trying to do was for his son, though I cannot be certain."

"So if we can find him and this Calpernia, then the Venatori will crumble?"

"It is possible, though there is no shortage of zealots who would gladly rise to take their places." Leliana had slowly been wandering around the table as they spoke. As she approached his side, she held out a report. "That brings us to the red templars."

"Lord Seeker Lucius?"

"Missing."

As he scanned the reports, he felt his gut clench. He paused to go back and read it more thoroughly. "Samson?"

"Cassandra heard the name when the Marcher templars went missing. I have been looking into him and, while I cannot find much, there have been multiple mentions of a Samson leading the red templars."

Cullen frowned, reaching back to rub at the back of his neck, to an ache that never wanted to leave him there.

He'd known a Samson. He'd been a good man, a good templar, until he'd been caught passing letters between a mage and his lover. He'd been kicked from the Order—a harsh judgment that had nettled at Cullen some nights as he tried to assure himself that Meredith knew what she was doing—and from there…

If he remembered right, he'd been caught selling children to slavers by the Champion of Kirkwall.

With Garrett's track record, Cullen had always assumed Samson dead, body left to rot in some back alley or an unmarked grave.

That he was still alive would be one thing. That he could be responsible for the red templars…

Cullen supposed it was hard to really know someone. Instantly, his mind flitted to Finley, and he grimaced against the thought, trying not to think of their time together, of the quiet smiles, the innocent way she had looked at him for…

Well, until he'd tried to convince her not to trust Cole.

He could still see each shift in her face, forever etched into his memory. The caution, the worry, the realization, the look of utter betrayal. And then the way she made sure not to look at him at all.

He tried to refocus on Samson, on whether he had ever heard any rumors back in Kirkwall of where the man might have gotten to. His mind drew a blank.

…-...

Cullen hadn't been able to sleep that night. When his mind wasn't picking apart every memory he had of Samson, he was thinking of either Finley or lyrium. The look she'd given him when he'd walked off in the desert. There had, for just a second, been pain in her eyes, confusion.

No doubt more of that betrayal after he'd left.

He just...couldn't.

He couldn't think of how adamantly Alistair had accused her and of how, for the first time she hadn't seemed scared of the accusations thrown her way. She was always scared, always protesting that she was no blood mage or maleficar, often times before anyone even voiced the concerns.

And yet with Alistair, she had let him rant, only quietly pointing out that he was wrong.

Angry as he had been with her, she hadn't feared him.

Not the way she'd feared Cullen. He could see that terrified expression of hers, that trapped look that she donned so often in his presence.

How could he have ever thought they…

He couldn't deal with this now.

And he couldn't sleep, either, so he got up and worked his way through the paperwork on his desk. Things were coming along well on most fronts. More and more of their refugees were coming from Orlais now. It seemed they'd noticed the massive army moving through the southern edge of the country and word had spread that the Inquisition would accept and protect everyone.

He would have expected more tension between the Orlesians and Fereldens, but somehow that great eye that flew on the banner had a way of breaching old hostilities.

For the most part.

There'd been one or two scuffles caused by the mocking of accents, but beyond that, everything was going unnervingly well.

It felt like there was a bubble slowly rising and that it was just waiting for the least opportune moment to burst.

As he finished with the second stack of his reports, he heard sharp voices and the thudding of boots coming from the direction of the rotunda.

The door swung open as he reached for the handle, and he narrowly avoided being hit by it. The people on the other side skidded to a halt before they could run into him, and one stood at attention as best he good, a vice grip still on the other's arm.

"Commander, I found this mage skulking about the main—"

"I was not skulking!" The mage snapped, though almost as soon as he looked at Cullen, his face lost all color.

Cullen felt like his might have as well. The guard—a templar, of course—had a Kinloch Hold mage in his grasp. The man had been younger when they'd been in Kinloch together, around Cullen's age.

Not the boy, but still one of the terrified faces who had watched him with growing horror as he demanded their lives be forfeit to err on the side of caution.

"What happened?" Cullen finally found his voice and looked away from the mage, names racing in the back of his head as he tried to think of his name.

Just as he settled on Heath, the templar shoved the mage forward a step and motioned to him. "I was just off my shift and passing through the main hall when I saw this fellow, creeping around in the shadows."

"I wasn't…" Heath started and then hesitated, wincing. "I already told you—"

"Says he was following someone."

"Did you check?" Cullen asked, gaze snapping from the templar and mage to the castle beyond. He motioned for the templar to let Heath go when he sputtered a 'no' and then, hesitantly pointed. "What did you see?"

"A sparrow."

Even as the templar scoffed, Cullen held up a hand to silence him. "In the main hall?"

"It wasn't...it moved like it was looking for something."

"A way out?" offered the templar, venom in his voice.

"You're dismissed," Cullen said, almost the second the templar was done talking. As he looked at him, confused, he motioned with his head. "You said you're off duty. Go. I'll look into what you should have."

There was just a slight edge to his voice, and both mage and templar caught it, with the templar bristling and then mumbling about birds not being a damned threat before he turned and stormed off quickly.

Cullen would be hearing more from him, he didn't doubt.

Looking back at Heath, he suddenly felt how incredibly alone he was with the mage. It made his stomach turn as the man's terrified face flashed before his eyes. The look from so long ago was echoed all too acutely now.

Cullen felt lost, wondering if he should address their shared history, or just...move past it. After what felt like a damned eternity, he finally looked away from the mage, toward the main building again. "What about the sparrow caught your attention?"

"It was warded. Ser. Commander." The mage's mouth snapped shut as soon as he was finished speaking, and Cullen could see the tension in his cheeks, like his teeth were clenched.

"Do you see where it came from?"

Heath stood there a moment, appraising Cullen, as if expecting him to say something else, maybe something about the past-should he?

However, before Cullen could think of how to possibly breach the subject, Heath turned and practically sprinted back to the main hall.

"I first saw it come down from the Inquisitor's chambers. It wasn't staying high, so I thought maybe I could catch it and let it out," Heath explained as Cullen caught up and matched his pace. He pointed out the path with his index finger. "I followed it down to the old library, and then it saw me and hid."

"Hid?"

"It wasn't…" Heath seemed rather tired of those two words and took in a deep breath through his nose. "I used to watch the birds, from the windows in the Circle." He kept his gaze directed straight ahead, away from Cullen. "This one didn't act like they did. It was… It was landing on shelves, scanning the book titles and...I swear it was looking for something specific. When it saw me, it hid. So I hid. It took almost an hour before it came back out. It was so much more careful than before. It would stop at hallways and peer around the edges. I nearly got spotted thrice."

He motioned toward the inquisitor's chambers. "I think it was heading back the way it came when…"

The rage on his features said all he didn't.

When he was accused of something he hadn't done and was dragged away.

"I told him about the bird, not that it mattered. Not that it ever matters." As soon as he'd said that, he looked afraid again, like Cullen would lash out at him for being ungrateful or…

Or respond like a templar.

Cullen looked around the main hall, pausing to glance up toward the rafters.

"It never went that high."

He nodded. "I'll let Sister Leliana know to keep an eye out for such things," Cullen offered, looking back down at the mage. "And I'll check upstairs. Thank you."

Heath seemed at a loss for a moment before shrugging. "I wouldn't want something to happen to the inquisitor. If we don't have each others' backs, who will?" Without waiting for a response, he shuffled around Cullen, giving him a wide berth as he headed back to the courtyard.

He almost left it at that, but Cullen couldn't help but remember those terrified faces, that terrified boy. Turning, he looked after the mage and called out, "Heath."

The mage froze in place, back rigid, like he expected a sword to meet him if he looked behind him.

Cullen swallowed. "I'm sorry. You went through the same thing I did, and I… You deserved better—"

"We knew that," Heath interrupted him. "We know that." Then, he was running out of the main hall, leaving Cullen there, alone in the dark.

He stared after the mage another moment before turning sharply on his heels. He didn't know what he'd expected, what he'd intended to say after if he hadn't been interrupted. He'd just...wanted to make it right.

Somehow.

As though he ever could.

He shook his head, heading up the stairs to the Inquisitor's chambers. When he reached them, the door was locked, as were the balconies. He wandered the room to check for any ways a bird might have gotten in, not caring to let his gaze wander to the bed or wall or...anywhere that made his mind wander to better times. He was there for a reason, and it wasn't to reminisce.

When he couldn't find any way that a bird could have come in, he headed back down.

He'd heard of the wasp spell from Denerim and wondered if this might not be the same thing, in a different form. Something to scout out the castle. Something looking for the best way to attack?

The first Venatori attack had been stopped before it could even begin. Maybe they were trying something different now?

He checked the entire tower as he walked down, feeling any stone that might be loose for a way that someone could have let the thing in.

To have let it in upstairs, the person would have had to be high ranking beneath either Leliana or Josephine. Or someone Ser Barris had trusted in his absence to leave reports for the inquisitor on her table.

He'd have to discuss this with them.

And hope that maybe it was just a bird.

As he headed back through the main hall, something made him stop. The door that led to Josephine's office and then the war room was ajar. He hesitated and pushed it open slowly, peering up toward the lower rafters.

Cautiously, he walked through. Josephine's windows were closed and while he wasn't entirely familiar with the ambassador's belongings, he was fairly certain everything was in place.

Walking down the hall, footsteps as soft as he could make them, he stopped in front of the doorway to the war room. He could feel magic on the other side.

The only person with magic allowed in that room, aside from the inquisitor and her companions, was the grand enchanter, and she was only ever present when one of the other main advisors was there as well.

Cullen wasn't sure what made him think that it wasn't her, but something about this whole mess with the bird…

As soon as he pushed the door open, a blinding light hit him in the eyes. Cullen stumbled backwards, raising his arms to protect his face and chest.

He heard the flapping of wings overhead. The sound was heading down the hall, away from the war room.

More importantly, however, he could feel that magic moving with it.

"Stop!"

Without thinking, he reached somewhere deep inside of him, somewhere he'd all but abandoned when he left the Order, and cast an interrupt.

Instantly, the song was screaming in his ears, and his knees gave out. As he gasped for breath, wishing desperately for the burning in his veins to cease, he heard footfalls. A scuffle.

It wasn't until Leliana's hand was on his shoulder that he managed to look up and see that a few guards were holding someone.

He tried to focus on what was going on, but the buzzing through him was too great. As he heard an unfamiliar voice snap that he hadn't 'done a damned thing to the idiot human', he managed to get a shaky grasp of his surroundings, pushing through that miserable haze.

It rumbled like river rapids in his ears, screaming at him that he could be more, powerful, not pathetically simpering on his knees.

Cullen tried to stand and the world wobbled around him.

"See? The bastard's fine! Let me go!"

"Not a chance," Leliana snapped before returning to Cullen's side. She'd left? "Commander, can you hear me?"

"I...that man was in the war room." It hurt to speak. Maker, it hurt to exist. But he couldn't very well let something like that keep him from his job, could he?

Cullen pointed in the direction of the man and found an elderly elf glaring back. His hair was long, his robes tattered. More than that, though, there was something about him that reminded Cullen so much of Finley that he half expected to see her standing with him. He narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

"As if it matters," the elf replied, letting his gaze wander as though he didn't deem Cullen important enough to keep his attention.

"You have been caught trespassing," Leliana stated, pausing once to make sure Cullen wouldn't fall over and then walking over to the intruder. "It does you no good to keep silent."

"Silence is all that's ever done me any good," the elf retorted, arching a bushy eyebrow at Leliana. "If you're to put me to the sword, do it now. I've nothing else to say."

While Cullen would have liked to try to shake something out of him, he could barely hold himself up, and didn't doubt that any attempts to strong arm the elf would result in him looking the fool.

"Take him to the dungeons," Leliana said, returning the apathetic look the elf gave them. "We will talk more later."

"Bind his magic," Cullen called, coughing as it felt like his voice was scraping over coals. "He's a mage. The interrupt will be...wearing off soon."

Even as the elf snapped something about tormenting an old man, the guards took him away. When they could no longer hear their footsteps, Leliana looked back at Cullen.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," Cullen said, a bit too quickly. The world spun slightly to one side and then too far the other way. He stumbled until he could hold on to the wall. "One of the Circle mages noticed a bird…" he thought back to the light, the flapping of wings. "I think...he was the bird."

That sort of magic was...aside from forbidden, it was…

It was the sort of stuff that would have Alistair crowing with glee.

"I will see what I can get from him," Leliana said, reaching out toward Cullen. "Do you need help back to your quarters?"

"I'm fine," Cullen assured her, taking a few steps along the wall as his body cried out for the blue song that filled his ears.

Maker help him, but he was not.

Not at all.