"Inquisitor—" Cullen cut himself off as he saw the frightened-animal look settle on Finley's features, her head whipping toward him, arms clutching a medium sized box she was carrying to her a little bit tighter. It had been quite some time since she'd reacted to him thus, and he was somewhat taken aback by the display. The two of them stood there in the intersecting hallways for a few moments before Cullen finally crossed his arms, his earlier thoughts of greeting and the like all but lost to him. "What's with the box?"

"Must there be something with it?" Finley replied almost instantly, shrugging as though to make light of her earlier actions. "Honestly, you Lowlands creatures are so odd with your need for everything to have some greater meaning or point. Perhaps it is just a box, and I felt like—"

She was interrupted by a ribbit.

Silence resumed between them as they stared at one another.

Finally, Cullen pointed at the box. "Is there a frog in there?"

"No," Finley said a bit too quickly, straightening up and adjusting her grip. "There are no frogs."

"Inquisitor, if someone sent you a frog, we need to address this." Cullen started to breach the distance between them, but stopped before he'd taken a full step. He could have sworn Finley was ready to bolt. "It's bad enough that there are some people who think you're an actual witch. We don't need rumors of you carting around reptiles—"

"Frogs are not reptiles," Finley murmured, interrupting him. She coughed a little to clear her throat and then shrugged again. "Though, your point is made, and it is therefore a fortunate thing that I'm not carting around any frogs."

Another ribbit.

"What is in the box?"

"Hmm?" Her voice seemed a little strained.

Before Cullen could ask further, Dorian and Dalish seemed to tumble out of nowhere, old tomes and odd ingredients in arm, respectively. Dorian was already flipping awkwardly through one tome with another about to fall out from under his arm. "I must say, but I didn't think this was actually something that could be done, that it was rather one of those rumors that came about from years of—"

He stopped midsentence when he noticed Cullen and then gave him a brilliant smile. "Commander Rutherford. Good to see you. I'll have you know I've been practicing with a friend or two, and I think our next game will go in my favor."

Rather than take the bait, Cullen crossed his arms, inspecting the ingredients that Dalish was trying to hide behind Dorian and Finley with more care. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," the three of them said in unison.

Narrowing his eyes, Cullen took a few steps toward them. "What's in the box?" His mind kept going back to all the old myths about witches that he didn't believe in, and he was having a very hard time not asking if there was a person in that box. That would be foolish, at best.

Everyone knew mages couldn't actually polymorph people into animals.

There were a few tense moments where the mages glanced at one another, trying to figure out who should explain whatever was going on and what to say.

"Commander! I have that report you were asking about!"

Cullen turned to see that scout that seemed to have the worst timing in Thedas jogging through the halls to him. Even as he gave the man a quick wave of acknowledgement, he looked back over his shoulder and frowned.

All three of the mages were gone.

Cullen glanced down each of the halls, frowning when he couldn't so much as see or hear a door clicking shut.

"Ser?" Scout Jim was right beside him now, winded.

Taking the papers from him, Cullen gave the halls one last look over before resigning himself to the fact that he would have to find out what this was about later. After all, he wasn't a templar anymore, so chasing down mages because they were acting odd—incredibly odd…and suspicious—was not his job. He had an army to run.

And they were having a war meeting that evening, so Finley couldn't avoid him forever.

As he looked down at the report, he frowned. "What…this can't be right…"

….-…

Several months later….

Cullen was just drifting to sleep, one of his hands tangled in Finley's hair, her head resting against his shoulder, content with the way his life had turned around, when his eyes snapped open.

"Finley."

"Hmmm?" She sounded like she was about to fall asleep.

"What was in that box?"