Nearly a year after Ellana and Solas had passed into the next life, Cullen found himself at another ball. This one was in Orlais, back at the Winter Palace, but he didn't mind this visit nearly so much thanks to some key differences. Namely, there was no assassination plot to thwart, he would officially relinquish his title of Inquisitor at the end of the night, and he would retire to his room quietly with his wife instead of running from pursuing Orlesian nobles.

Not that Dorian was being reassuring on the last point. He'd wandered into Cullen's room early in the night to get ready away from his lover's prying eyes. And hands. And he'd been holding court ever since. "Cullen, of course they'll still be pursuing you. A marriage in Orlais only makes the man, or woman, more enticing to his, or her, seducers," he said as he arranged his jacket to his liking.

"Are you saying someone is going to try to seduce Cassandra?"

"Undoubtedly, but she'll knee them in their most sensitive areas and that will be that. You, on the other hand, will stammer and blush and look so deliciously bashful that they'll practically be foaming at the mouth," he said. "Ellana told me about your performance the last time."

Cullen cursed the redness rising to his cheeks as Dorian laughed. He shook his head to clear it away. "Well then, it's good I'll be wearing a mask," he said, grabbing the golden object off of the table. He put it on in one swift movement, then stood back for inspection.

Dorian's eyes widened. "Wait? Who are you? Where's the Inquisitor?" Cullen glared as he took off the mask again, and Dorian held up his hands. "I'm sorry, but your scar is still visible. No one will be fooled."

"No one who knows me already. But my would-be admirers won't know about my scar," said Cullen. "What?" he demanded when the mage shook his head.

"Oh Cullen. They all know about it. It's all they talk about. It's in a very kissable location."

Cullen groaned and tried to change the subject. He looked appraisingly at Dorian. "Why are you so fully-clothed? Tevinter finally demand decorum from their Archon?"

"Of course not. They love my daring fashion," he said. "Much more than my daring domestic policies, that's for sure."

The way he emphasized "domestic" had Cullen's stomach knotting. "What have you done now?"

Dorian smiled nervously. "Well, I may have received some support for my bid by assuring the Magisterium that my preferences would leave them free to choose another, in the fullness of time, due to my lack of heirs."

"And?"

"And your brother wants children," he said. He narrowed his eyes. "I blame you. Anthony is far too adorable. It put notions in his head."

"Thank you," said Cullen smugly. He did have the smartest and most lovable son in Thedas, by any objective measure.

Dorian folded his arms. "I keep telling him that there's no way our child will look so much like Cassandra, but he won't listen." He smirked at Cullen's growl. "Anyway, since the usual methods of childbearing aren't open to us, outside of blood magic, Darren has been spending his time searching for a suitable partner."

Cullen choked. "Excuse me?"

"I have no interest in that side of things, but Darren is more flexible. If he finds a woman amenable, and I approve, then there will be a new Pavus. Of a sort." Dorian spoke confidently, but his eyes didn't meet Cullen's.

"Are you sure about this?" asked Cullen. He strode over and took Dorian by the arm. "If you're not comfortable, you should tell him."

"It's not the most comfortable I've ever been, but he knows that. He's been very considerate," said Dorian. "And I have to admit that, while I find potential children terrifying, they're less terrifying when they're his."

Cullen nodded and stepped back. "Well, I can see why the Magisterium might be less than pleased. We'll divert some more troops to Tevinter to guard you from any rogue elements. Just in case," he said. He hesitated for a second. "And you'll be okay with Darren doing, well, that, with someone else?"

Dorian smiled. "Oh, I'll be there. Like I said, the woman needs to be very amenable," he said. His face softened. "Besides, I would do anything to see him happy."

Cullen tugged at his own clothing, straightening wrinkles that hadn't had time to form, and sighed. "I know what you mean."

Another saving grace of this ball was that he'd convinced Celene that announcements were unnecessary. The coalition of nations was working as well as could be expected, with a slight patina of trust spreading across the world. Leliana had her hands full monitoring the spy networks that had sprung up to guard against perfidy, while pretending she didn't know anything about them, but she said that their activity was lessening as time went on. Of course, the last whisper of the Inquisition might trigger new suspicions, but they had people in place. He hoped.

It had given him the leverage he needed, though. If he was being retired, he'd argued, then it was counter-productive to make him the center of attention again. And in a world where the nations were coming together, announcements would only underscore their differences. It hadn't taken much to convince her, and between that and the mask he entered the room in relative anonymity.

And relative confusion. The room was a riot of color, littered with even more people than the one at Lothering. It seemed like every person from every nation had received and accepted an invitation. The dancers whirled around the floor below him like gems spilled out of a woman's jewelry box, mixing and glancing past each other in sparkling winks of light. The men wore dark suits with wide jackets, much like Dorian's, but they were all lined with a different color that flashed and teased out as they spun. The effect was beautiful and overwhelming, and Cullen had to look away.

He glanced down at his own clothing. He wore no jacket, only a tightly cut white tunic with flowing sleeves. It was a very specific look, for a very specific purpose, and from the way a group of women near him were giggling, he knew he'd succeeded.

But they weren't the women he was looking for. His eyes roved through the throngs of dancers and well-wishers and strangers until he saw a trio of ladies standing near a window across the way. They were all masked as well, but he knew Leliana and Josephine better than his own sisters. And Cassandra, with her straight back, long lines, and dark hair wound into a crown, was always unmistakable.

Cullen's breath stopped as he realized she was wearing her shimmering Lothering gown. The slit up the side called to him, and he pushed past the nearest members of the crowd with a speed that bordered on rudeness.

When he was near enough to hear her voice, almost near enough to scent that lovely soap he still smelled every morning as he breathed thankfulness, he slowed, suddenly nervous. This was ridiculous. An idea that had seemed enchanting when Leliana and Josephine had him half-into a bottle of wine had become more and more insane with each passing day, and Cullen was going to make a fool of himself.

Then Leliana saw him, and it was too late. She dashed over and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the other two women with unseemly enthusiasm. Several revelers blocked their progress, and they arrived in a confused tangle of limbs. Cullen realized too late that his mask might cover his face, but the red patches on his neck would be all too visible.

Eventually they sorted themselves out, and Leliana said formally, "My lady, please allow me to introduce you. Prince Rutherford, this is Princess Pentaghast, of Nevarra."

Cassandra's eyes were wide behind her mask, a delicate blue lace that hid just enough, and he felt the blush spreading down to his chest. He covered it by taking her outstretched hand, a hand she'd extended seemingly without thought, and bending to graze it with his lips. "Princess," he said quietly, and he felt her shiver.

She bobbed elegantly in reply to his greeting. Her gaze never left his own, and every thought he'd had flew out of his mind. Josephine urged him on behind her, but the words wouldn't come. Only when he realized he was still holding her hand did he move, dropping it quickly and clenching his own at a fist by his side. Maker's breath, he was married to this woman. They had a child. How could he be so nervous?

"Forgive me," he said, a single tremor running through his voice. "I never know quite what to say in the face of beauty."

Leliana clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh, and Josephine fought valiantly to keep a straight face. He cut them both a quick look before focusing back on Cassandra.

She politely pretended not to notice their antics. "I suspect your skill is greater than you pretend, Your Highness," she said. Her eyes sparkled at the last, and he smiled crookedly in reply. He noticed with amusement her eyes followed the scar above his lip, and chalked one up for Dorian. Cassandra shook herself and added, "Your clothing reminds me very much of something."

He tried not to fidget as she studied the length of him. Eventually she laughed in startled delight. "There is a book. A story of a ball. And a prince," she said. She tilted her head. "Do you know it?"

Cullen frowned. Of course he did. They'd read it together long ago, during their first, secret marriage. A woman at the ball met a handsome, strange prince behind a mask. They'd fallen in love at first sight, and gotten married after several chapters of confusion. It had been her favorite, and he caught her reading it alone several times after. He'd teased her about it, then terrified himself with it as it almost came true.

Then he understood. She was playing her character, too. This was flirting. He almost laughed aloud. Had he ever flirted with Cassandra? Not like this. He'd made love to her before he'd known he should be flirting.

He nodded instead. "I am. And I believe the prince asks the most alluring woman at the ball to dance," he said. He bowed once more. "So can I persuade you to join me, Princess Pentaghast?"

Surprise crossed what he could see of her face, but she smiled. "I would be delighted."

Cullen took her proffered hands in his own and led her carefully down the stairs. He waited on the side of the floor, watching Leliana navigate her way to the orchestra's leader. To stall for time, he leaned in close to Cassandra's ear. "I would be remiss if I didn't mention how perfectly that gown suits you, Lady."

"Thank you. My lover has often admired it," she said.

"Ah, you have a lover? Tell me, what is he like?"

She smiled before falling back in to coquettish blankness. "Oh, he's quite handsome. An excellent fighter, with perfect shoulders and a beautiful chest. Almost designed to be touched and admired. He's charming, and intelligent, and romantic, and chivalrous. And quite insatiable in the bedroom. It's difficult to keep up with him," she said.

He leaned in close enough for her to feel his breath across her ear. "We have a lot in common, then. I find myself quiite inspired by you. I wonder if you taste as good as you look."

Cullen grinned at the strangled sound in her throat, and she moved to elbow him. He leaned away from her, then caught her with a strong hand around her waist as she stumbled. "Careful," he said, rubbing his palm over her hip. "It wouldn't do to twist your delicate ankle before the dance."

"My ankles are perfectly sound," she said indignantly, trying to slide away, but he put a finger on her lips. She stared at him, startled, and something dark flashed deep in her eyes as she parted her mouth to let him drag it along her lower lip. Maker those eyes were captivating.

"Cassandra," he murmured, completely lost in her.

She pulled back. "So familiar already," she said, more than a hint of breath in her tone.

"Not as much as I want to be," he said with a hint of a growl. He looked away with an effort and saw Leliana signaling him. He stepped back and lifted his hand. "Shall we?"

She took his hand and followed him to the floor, the look of surprise back on her face. When he settled her into a traditional waltz hold, she gave him an incredulous look. "You dance?"

"We dance," he said. And when the music started, they did.

Granted he was counting in his head desperately, terrified of stepping on her, but she followed him well enough, even through the passage where he turned the wrong direction and had to pick up the thread on the other side of an improvised movement. He'd never been so grateful for her warrior's grace.

Once he stopped trying to impress her with his carefully learned moves, they settled into a simpler pattern and he relaxed. Leliana and Dorian had done their best in their lessons, but it was somehow easier with Cassandra. Everything was.

"So when you said you needed to travel ahead to take care of pressing matters?" she asked quietly.

"I did say matters. Plural," he answered. He curled his hand around the back of her neck. "What prince attends a ball without dancing with its most shining jewel?"

She rolled her eyes, but he didn't miss the flush that danced up her cheeks. They turned quietly again, settling sweetly inside each others' silence. Cullen saw Iron Bull laughing from his place against the wall and tried his best to ignore it, but when the qunari jerked his head in summons, Cullen nodded. The music faded as the song melted away, and he stepped away from Cassandra with a precise, courtly bow. "Forgive me. My presence is needed elsewhere, my lady," he said. "May I be so bold as to request a favor?"

"Bold men have always had my favor," she said, and it was his turn to blush.

"Meet me on the western balcony in fifteen minutes."

"As you wish."

She melted into the crowd with a small backwards glance. He watched her go until the music started again, and he fled as a determined woman bore down on a newly abandoned partner.

Bull had only summoned him as a part of Josephine's story, and he held him there for fifteen minutes telling the newest stories of Tevinter. The qunari didn't mention it, but a raise of his eyebrows asked Cullen if he'd heard about Darren's new family plan. Cullen contrived with only a twitch of his mouth to communicate that he had, and it was crazy, and it was exactly like his brother. Bull agreed through a scratch on his ear.

"Nice to see them happy, though," he said in a non sequitur, and without warning he moved Cullen into the next phase of the plan. They headed for the glass doors, suspiciously absent of guards. "I'm going to be protecting you from interruptions myself. But there's one thing, and it's very important."

"What?"

"If you start taking any clothes off, make a loud noise so I know when to turn around and watch."

Cullen punched him in the arm, and the man grinned. He stood aside as Cullen met a waiting Leliana and a handful of servants. She handed him a single flower and kissed him on the cheek. "This is a very sweet thing you're doing. Cassandra is practically glowing already. And Darren asked me to tell you that he still hates you."

"That means I'm doing something right, at least," he said. He released a breath as he gripped the door handle and swung it open.

Cassandra was waiting, looking out over the distant lights with a soft expression. He stepped behind her and held the flower beneath her nose, and she inhaled in surprise and joy. When she reached up to clasp it in her own hand, he took the opportunity to brush his lips over her cheek. "I'm glad you made it."

She spun to face him and placed her fingers lightly on his arm. "I was very intrigued, Your Highness."

He grinned and stepped aside to show her the scene the servants were setting. The dark corner of the balcony now held a small table, set with candles, and a dinner laid elegantly around them. The door clicked shut, and they were alone.

Cullen was gratified to see a look of complete astonishment cross her face. "For me?"

"For you," he said. "A candlelit dinner under the moon, with the handsome, smitten prince from the ball." He held out his arm to her. "May I escort you, Princess?"

She shook her head, and he frowned. Her strong, scarred fingers grazed his mask. "I'd like to have dinner with my husband, actually," she said. "He's more handsome than any strange prince could be."

He breathed in as she drew the golden face away from his own, then returned the favor by unwinding her lacy covering. They stared at each other in the flickering light, and he cupped her cheek in his palm. "Happy anniversary, sweetheart."

When she leaned in to kiss him, winding her arms around his neck, he tightened his fingers in her hair and breathed her in. His wife. His partner. And the only woman in the world he ever needed to love him.

Several hours later, after a delightfully intimate dinner and unmasked party attendance that was something less than delightful, he finally tugged her down the hall to their room. She wasn't resisting, but she also wasn't moving nearly fast enough for his tastes, and he almost made a remark about her conditioning before his brain helpfully shut his mouth for him until they reached their destination.

Cullen opened the door quietly, automatically trying to shield the chamber from outside noises before he remembered with relief that it was empty. Anthony was spending the evening with Aunt Alice and Honorary Aunt Sera, which was terror enough for ten men, but Cullen was pathetically grateful to have the room to themselves for one night. This night.

Cassandra grabbed him as soon as they cleared the door, and he twisted to close it behind them while she claimed his mouth. He groaned into the kiss as his hand found the parting in her gown and pushed it aside. He had to touch her. Immediately. If not sooner. When he stroked his fingers across her smalls, she bucked against them and whimpered, pulling him even closer. He heard a ripping sound as she wound her fingers into his shirt, and she yanked harder, parting more threads beneath her hands.

"Do it," he whispered, and a moment later his shirt was in tatters on the floor and her mouth was on him. He leaned back against the wood behind him as she made her way down the muscles of his stomach, trying desperately not to beg while she nipped and bit and traced the lines she loved to where they disappeared.

"What do you want?" she asked in a voice that was all seductive melody.

He hissed as she slowly untied his trousers. "Everything," he said. "You."

She pulled the fabric down over his hips, then paused with her fingers hooked into his own smallclothes. Cullen reached down and touched her face as she looked up at him. The look he saw there was torturous evil, and he craved it with all his being. "Please," he said. "Oh sweetheart, please." He struggled to keep his hips still. Maker he was hard. How did she bring him to this point so easily? He was practically middle-aged, and she made him feel as eager as an inexperienced youth.

Instead of complying, she rose gracefully and kissed him once again. He tried to grab her hips and pull her against him, but the silk slid through his fingers as she danced away. She led him on a short chase to the bed, surprising him with a quick reverse to shove him down on the mattress. He watched while she reached behind her and began to undo some mechanism on the dress that had it sliding down her body. He whimpered when the pale column of her came into view and propped up on his elbows when she unwound the breast band she sorely needed. He'd been right about the pregnancy effects, and the sight of her breasts, bared and waiting, had him drawing his smallclothes off without thought.

She stilled her movements and stared at him, and he flexed his stomach deliberately when he rolled his hips to slide the last of the fabric off and toss it aside. "Want me?" he asked. He grazed his fingers across his length and shuddered at the hungry look on her face.

The rest of her dress slid away, and she threw her own underthings across the room as she crawled onto the bed. "Since I met you," she whispered, then lowered her head to press a kiss to the tip of his erection. Her fingers kneaded his thighs while she took him in her mouth, and he nearly launched himself off the bed. When she'd carried Anthony and been too uncomfortable to take him, she'd still wanted sex with an alluring desperation, and she'd gotten very, very good at knowing exactly what he wanted.

And exactly how far was too far. She kept him on the edge of explosion, drawing back and pushing forward with uncanny timing. Only when he was close to tearing the sheets in frustration did she ease away and seem to lose focus. Cullen looked down, puzzled, and realized that one of her hands had vanished down her own body, and her distraction was born of a very, very good reason.

"Maker, you'll be the death of me," he said in a strangled voice. He sat up and shifted positions until her mouth was occupied with his, and her fingers were joined by his own. She moaned when he pressed one inside her, and he felt her redouble her efforts to find her pleasure. "That's it. Show me how much I drive you wild."

"You do," she said as he moved his lips down to her breast. It was swollen and full, and she gasped as he tasted her. "You're perfect. Oh Cullen. Oh my love."

"Do you want me inside of you?" he asked, before licking and sucking at her pale skin once more.

"Yes," she said. "Oh yes. Please."

He wasn't quite done with her, hadn't quite taken her to the mindless need he craved, and when he finally complied, guiding himself inside her gently, her throat caught in a sob. He held her tightly as they both stilled and waited. He panted against her neck, wanting to move but also wanting the moment to last. Her heart beat under his fingers in time with his own, and he'd never felt so clearly the twining of their souls.

But it had to do something, or he would go mad. Her hand was still between them, and he kissed her ear. "Come for me, sweetheart. With me just like this. I want to feel you."

Almost immediately her fingers worked once more, and he fought to keep himself still, to allow his hips to only flex just a little, just enough, as she brought herself to and over the edge that she needed. "I love you," she cried, and the cry was full of real tears, ones that he kissed away, focusing intently on the feeling of her pulsing around him.

"Are you okay?" he whispered when her breath came more normally.

She nodded into his shoulder. "This has been the most beautiful evening," she sighed. "Finish it, my prince. My knight. My husband."

He growled his need as she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he had hardly thrust at all before he was spilling inside her, feeling her trembling, pleasure-filled, incoherent words wash over his heart and leave nothing but peace.

They explored each other as though for the first time when they were finished, and he'd found more pleasure inside her waiting to be tapped. All he wanted to do was touch her, and he was kissing the bones of her hip tenderly when the soft bell announcing the new day chimed through the palace. Cullen smiled against her skin. "I'm no longer the Inquisitor," he said.

"And the Inquisition is no more."

He pulled away and looked at her. "Do you regret it?"

"No," she said firmly. "I wanted to build something, without interference. Without my name and rank to lean on, only my own ability. I did. The Inquisition served its purpose. But it would not be enough for the future. I am a warrior, and a warrior cannot build a world without war. I need others to find its peace. You've done this for me."

"I'm a soldier, too."

"Only in duty," she said. "You stand without faltering. But you are much more than a fighter, my love. You're a healer. I'm very proud. And now I look forward to building something much smaller than a world. A family, with you."

He grazed his fingers over her stomach and kissed her skin once more before stopping in horror. "You are taking the herbs again, aren't you? Anthony's still so young."

"The Maker's will be done," she said with a smile.

Cullen gulped. "But you know I can't keep my hands off of you."

She hummed noncommittally. "And I've decided once we return to Cumberland, we need to go back to training with the sticks in the courtyard. I let your progress slide too much in my pregnancy. I was preoccupied with other things, but no more. We must get you back into shape."

He thought back to the annex where they'd unknowingly conceived, a place they'd spent little time in since they'd moved, given her condition. Then he pictured Cassandra, belly beautifully round and full of life once more. And the way she'd always, always wanted him. "Sweet Andraste," he said. "I really will need training."

Cassandra laughed, and they settled down to sleep, her using his chest as a pillow. "We'll be late leaving for Nevarra tomorrow," she said. "I promised Bull I'd spar with him in the morning."

"Good," he mumbled into her hair, already half-asleep. "I can take your chainmail off afterwards."

She sighed and nestled closer to his chest. "Honestly, do you think of anything other than removing my garments?"

"Mmm," he said. "Yes. I think of you removing mine."

He huffed a laugh as she slapped him lightly across the chest. "Sleep," he said. "Tomorrow we go home."

Cassandra leaned up and grazed her lips along his jawline. "I already am."

She made herself comfortable once more and fell into deep, even breathing. He looked up at the dark, distant ceiling and imagined a pair of pale, laughing eyes above them. He wondered if Ellana ever looked across this new world, built on the foundations of her life, and was pleased. He wondered if she kept watch over them all with her lover at her side. If so, he hoped she was as happy as he was, in this moment, for the rest of her days.

"Me too, sweetheart," he murmured, kissing the top of Cassandra's sleeping head. "Me too."

A/N: And we've reached yet another ending! Possibly not the last ending, depending on my muse, but certainly the end of this particular journey. Thank you so much for reading, and especially to those who left lovely comments. I've enjoyed getting to know so many of you through your wonderful PM conversations, and your words and kindnesses spurred me on through some very dark days when I feared I would never finish this story. Plus, I'm always pleased to initiate new members into my Cullen and Cassandra cult! The Cullandra cult? Cassen's champions? Maybe I'll have Alistair work on a name for that as well.

I also must thank my beautiful guest reviewers, especially Bluewillow and shom. I wasn't able to thank you properly anywhere else, so here we are. And an additional thank you to those quiet readers with silent eyes who also kept me going. I hope you also enjoyed the story and were left satisfied.

This story took a hard turn into deep plot near the midpoint, I know, and I appreciate all the romance fans who stuck with it through the convolutions and mythology. But we got a wedding! We got a baby! And Ellana got an ending that she might not have deserved but she certainly accepted. I hope the muse will come back to me soon with another story, either about them or others. Until that day, happy reading and gaming to you all, and as always let me know if you have any thoughts about things that worked, things that didn't work, or things you would like to see more of. I don't use a beta, as was likely obvious from the many typos I found on my fifth readthrough of a chapter after I published, so I'm always anxious for opinions outside the echo chamber of my own head. Comments and criticisms are as precious as Cullen, to me.

So thanks again! You are all amazing!