Cullen threw open the door to the ambassador's office to find Josephine jogging while she struggled with a bright willow weave dressing gown.
"Do you know what has happened, Commander?" she asked, voice thick with sleep. She quickly tied her dressing gown closed as he marched past her.
"Caitl-" He stopped her name on his tongue, reminding himself to use the Inquisitor's title. He had to be an impartial advisor. "The Inquisitor has run into some trouble. Injuries. Beyond that…"
He shoved the War Room door open; Iron Bull caught the door, holding it open for Josephine to pass through and several Inquisition agents to run out.
Cullen found Leliana by the War Table, issuing orders to a couple of pages."Wake up the healers; they will need to be prepared the moment the party arrives. Stay while they take inventory, and get them whatever they need." They saluted and left.
Cullen was impressed with how quickly she had mobilized so many people, but it didn't explain why they were needed.
He raised his voice to be heard over the rush. "What's happened?"
The spymaster barely spared them a glance as she scribbled a message. "I received a raven from one of our patrols. The Inquisitor's party was attacked in the mountains… " She paused and looked up, giving him her full attention. "The report said there were casualties."
The words slammed into Cullen, knocking the breath out of his lungs. The room swayed for a moment as he fought for air.
"Who?" Josephine's voice trembled.
Leliana turned her attention back to the message she was writing. "I don't know, Josie. The note was rushed. It sounded like it was mere chance the party was even found. The patrol lacks proper supplies to care for the wounded, so they are returning as quickly as they can."
Cullen swallowed around the stone trapping his voice. "But there are survivors?"
"Yes, at least one — but it sounds as though they are barely holding on." She finished her message and handed it off to a waiting agent. "Take this to the Grand Enchanter. Wake her up if you need to."
Cullen's knuckles ached around the bone white grip he had on his sword. "And you have no names?"
Leliana turned back to him, eyes heavy with exhaustion. "I'm afraid not."
"You need speak to our people about how to relay information," Cullen growled.
"Our agents know their duties, Commander," she replied flatly. "They were focused on keeping the witness alive."
Cullen's thoughts raced with all of the implications of a skirmish less than a day's ride from Skyhold. "I need to get to the barracks. We should prepare for an invasion."
"You should stay here, Cullen," Josephine objected.
"She's right," Leliana agreed. "The patrol saw no signs of trouble until they found the Inquisitor's party. Send a raven to Rylen in the valley, but stay on hand in case the situation changes."
The order chafed, no matter how sound the logic. Cullen wanted to act, not wait around for news.
Still, he grabbed a quill and quickly wrote a note for his Second: Attack near Skyhold. Ready the troops. Be prepared for anything.
The door swung open with a groan, breaking some of the quietly brewing tension between the advisors. Varric, Solas, and some of Cullen's own soldiers filed in, all in various states of dress.
Iron Bull stood off to the side, leaning against a wall with folded arms. "So what do you need, Red?"
Leliana looked around, realizing that her agents had yet to return. "The healers are being woken up, but I haven't thought about the rest of the staff. They're likely be working through the night and will need food and supplies."
"Got it."
"So it's true?" Varric asked. "The Inquisitor was attacked on the road?"
"Who are 'they'? Who is saying anything?" asked Josephine.
"The whole castle, Ruffles." Varric's hair was down, and his overcoat was missing, but he appeared to be more awake than any of them. "Half of Skyhold is in the courtyard. Had to fight my way through them."
"Just what we need." Cullen gritted his teeth. If the Orlesian courtiers got involved, it would complicate everything tenfold.
Bull shrugged. "Guess I don't have to go wake anyone up."
"Perhaps not, but I can guarantee it will be chaos out there," Cullen told him. "See if you can help the others; I don't trust Sera to not simply shoot her way through."
Bull snorted his agreement as he pushed off the wall and headed for the courtyard.
"You and you." Cullen pointed to the guards who had followed Varric and Solas in. "Come with me. We're on crowd control." He turned back to Leliana. "If any more of my men report back here, send them out to help shove the nobles back into their beds."
Josephine placed a hand on his forearm, stopping him. "You're not really going to do that, are you?"
"We'll need a clear path to the Infirmary, and gawkers won't help. I'll lock them in their rooms myself if I have to." He nodded to the orders for Rylen. "Make sure that gets sent."
Josephine nodded. "At least try to use some diplomacy?"
"Only if they behave." He marched out of the room, certain his men would follow.
Beyond the sound of their marching boots filling the hallway, the long walk between the War Room and the Great Hall was silent. It gave his thoughts just enough time to start whispering in his head.
Casualties. There had been casualties. More than one. Even if Cat was alive — Merciful Andraste, please, please let her be alive — it still meant that others were dead. People he had seen just that morning, people he had shared meals, shared his life with; his friends…
When he entered the hall, it was mostly clear save for a couple standing by the fire.
"You guard the entrance," he told one of the soldiers. "When people start filing through, keep them in line. You, deal with them," he added, directing the second soldier toward the couple. "Once they're gone, help guide people into the garden. Keep this room clear."
"Ser!" they saluted.
He marched toward the main door, but when the couple began to yell at his soldier, he altered his course.
"Oh, Commander!" the gentleman called out in a thick Orlesian accent. "Please tell us this brute is lying. You cannot mean to confine us to our rooms!"
The couple's night clothes were silk, and so intricately detailed they seemed more suited for a ballroom than a bedroom. Only the lack of anything hard or pointed denoted the true nature of their outfits.
Cullen bit back an impetuous reply, trying to be considerate of the Inquisition's ambassador. "We're dealing with an emergency and our people need to move unhindered. So if you would please—"
"But Commander!" the gentleman yelled. "How can you possibly think we could sleep at a time like this!"
Cullen knew the man's voice, but had absolutely no recollection of his face. "This space must be kept clear for our messengers."
"But what has happened?" The woman was shaking, despite her plush robe and proximity to the fire. "There is talk that someone has died! Surely you don't expect us to try and sleep when all of this is going on! Can't you at least tell us what you know?" She clutched at his fur mantle; Cullen fought the urge to push her off of him.
"Please, Commander," the man murmured. "We have to know — is the Inquisitor safe?"
The solemnity drew Cullen up short. The Inquisitor was a symbol of faith and stability to many, and this was more than just selfish worry. It was genuine concern over the welfare of the Inquisitor.
He suddenly realized that he'd never seen any of the Orlesians without their masks before, and that he knew these people. They stood just outside of the library's entrance, gossiping loudly about his relationship with the Inquisitor. Caitlin would occasionally chat with them, unable to pass up the opportunity to tease him.
He carefully extricated the woman's hand from his coat. "We don't know anything yet."
"Surely, you —"
"And if you keep delaying me, I can't find out," Cullen insisted. "I'm certain an announcement will be made once more information is available. But please, keep this space clear. Wait in the Chantry garden if you must." He turned back toward the front doors, anxious to be on his way.
"Commander—"
"I don't know!" he bellowed. "And I won't know until you leave!"
His outburst finally made them relent, and they allowed Cullen's soldier to herd them toward the garden door in stunned silence. Cullen continued his course to the courtyard.
In the antechamber of the hall, it was just quiet enough for his thoughts to try and consume him once more.
I just need to know Cat's alright. I'll handle their fragile egos later and apologize to Josephine, but only after I know she's alright. I have to know that she's safe.
He took a moment to release a steadying breath before stepping out into the courtyard.
The ghostly moonlight was drowned out by the unrelenting glare of torches illuminating the throng. Varric had undersold it for once. It seemed as if all of Skyhold was out — but with the Orlesians forgoing their masks, Cullen was surrounded by strangers in the home he'd lived in for months.
Bull had made it to the other side of the yard along with Sera, Dorian, and Blackwall, but they were trapped by the crowd. Going around wasn't an option; the ramparts were packed with Inquisition mages, stuck between their tower and the infirmary, unable to move off the stairs.
At least the steps in front of him were clear. Fortunate, since he didn't trust himself to not casually nudge a noble loitering near the baluster-free edges.
It wasn't just their guests crammed in, either. He recognized several members of the staff: the stable hand who had brought out the Inquisitor's hart was loitering toward the back of the crowd, along with several others from the barn and a few girls Cullen recognized from the kitchen.
At the base of the stairs — to his great surprise — was Ser James, directing a handful of sentries.
"We should try and clear a path. Push through like that Qunari mercenary did!" Ser James turned toward Cullen as he walked down. "Commander!" He snapped to attention, and all the guards followed suit.
He nodded his greeting. "Do you know the situation?" Cullen asked them in a low voice.
"No, ser. There are rumors that the Inquisitor was ki—" The boy quickly cut off what he had been about to say. "That the Inquisitor's party is returning with injuries."
Cullen crossed his arms, trying to ward off the hole forming in his chest. "That the Inquisitor was killed? That's what the rumors are saying?" His voice was firm, demanding an answer. It would explain why everyone was out in droves.
"Yes, ser…" the recruit replied. "But it's not true, right?"
Babyfaced, that's how Vivienne had described him. In that moment, it seemed appropriate: he looked so young. They all did, turning to him with wide-eyed hope that their beloved Herald was still alive.
Cullen made sure his voice was as commanding and composed as his soldiers expected. "We don't know anything for certain yet, and we won't know until we clear a path for our messengers."
"Yes, ser!" they bellowed in response.
"Are the six of you the only guards on duty?"
"No, ser,"James replied. "I posted a few at the base of the battlements before the crowd really got bad. I caught several unauthorized guests attempting to get up there."
"Good work." He nodded in approval and James grinned from the accolades. "Now we need to clear everyone out of here. We have wounded returning, and our mages must be able to come and go unhindered. If anyone doesn't wish to return to their own room they can make their way to the garden, but I want this courtyard empty!"
"Yes, ser!" they echoed.
"If they refuse to go, put them in a cell. There are more pressing matters to attend to than standing about bickering with some self-important noble. Dismissed!"
"Ser!" They saluted and dispersed to carry out his orders.
Cullen was surrounded by the cloying scent of too many people wearing too much perfume all crammed together into too small a space. His stomach churned as he attempted to get the crowd moving.
Aside from the smell, things went smoothly at first. Cullen had but to remind the Skyhold staff of their duties before they began to leave.
When an elderly old lady thwacked James against his chest and began to 'shoo' him, however, it was interesting enough to make the staff stop and watch the new drama unfold. They were not the only ones; the progress the others had begun to make was quickly coming undone.
To make matters worse, those who were actually obeying were shoving through to the keep, overcrowding the dangerous staircase. It seemed the choke points in Skyhold's defenses were equally effective at hindering the passages of an invading force or a crowd of obstinate Orlesians.
He turned his attention back to the mob; James had begun to drag the woman he'd been fighting with towards the prison. Of course James would choose the worst possible person to turn into an example. Several nobles grabbed at James in an attempt to stop him, and the other soldiers moved in to help.
It was pandemonium. Cullen had to do something before they had a riot on their hands.
He stuck his pinky and thumb in his mouth and let out an ear piercing in earshot turned toward him.
"Back to your beds! Now!" he yelled.
The low grumble from those refusing to move rose to a loud roar. He even saw several fists in the air, shaking at him.
"The quickest way to get the gossip you all want is to get out of our way."
When no one in the courtyard moved, he decided he'd had enough.
The soldiers he had posted at the entrance had kept the crowd moving while everyone else stared at him. It was thin enough that he could climb the stairs once more. Once he reached the landing, he whistled again. Now that he was above the crowd, even those by the portcullis turned to look at him.
"Back to your rooms!" he bellowed. "Or go back to your jobs, while you still have them." No one spoke or even moved. The sudden silence left his ears ringing, but still, no one heeded his instructions.
"Go now or spend the night in a cell!"
When they continued to just stare blankly at him, he drew his sword. Even though he had plenty of room, he noticed several ducked. "Now!"
It was enough to spur them into action. They filed past him in an orderly fashion; any time someone began causing trouble, all he needed to do was glare. There were still objections, but they were toned down to a dull grumble. One woman in a silk nightgown scoffed at his 'nerve' as she walked past, but the crowd was moving nonetheless.
Bull made his way through, shoving a path through the courtiers, and his companions followed in his wake.
"Not exactly the most tactful speech there, Commander," remarked Dorian as he walked past. "I doubt they are all here purely for the gossip. Most, but not all."
"Stupid, useless lot," piped up Sera. "Poke them a few times with a couple of arrows and watch how quick they get out of my way."
"This is why we made you leave your arrows behind," intoned Blackwall (or whatever name he went by these days).
With the crowd mostly dispersed, Cullen made his way down the steps to help his men with the occasional straggler.
The mages, no longer trapped on the ramparts, were going to and fro in their efforts to prepare for the wounded. The infirmary was new and had yet to see any actual use, most injuries treated on the field or in their camp. Several apprentices were running from the quartermaster, carrying crates of potions and poultices.
He moved to check in with the soldiers Ser James had posted on the stairs and thank them for their efforts, not noticing the Tranquil carrying a box of potions behind him. He turned too quickly and ran right into Clemence, making him drop several vials of lyrium.
"You should look where you are going," Clemence intoned.
The blue liquid had splattered all over Cullen's boots. Even from the ground, the cool scent rushed up to him, clearing away any trace smells of the crowd.
"Yes… I'm sorry." He rubbed his hand across his neck, trying to focus away from the lyrium song.
The Tranquil made no acknowledgement of his apology, simply turning back towards the supply cache — likely going to replace the smashed jars.
Cullen dragged the toes of his shoes through the dirt. It was a lost cause, he knew; the smell would linger for days. He tightened his grip on his sword, trying to mask the tremble in his fingers. The other hand followed suit, clenching into a fist at his side. He debated heading to Cat's quarters for a quick change; his extra boots were in her closet next to his trunk — and her personal lyrium stores.
I should grab a bottle, just in case.
He was halfway up the main staircase when he realized where his thoughts had gone. Cat could be fighting for her life, and he… Cullen choked back the bile rising in his throat. He wiped a hand down his nose, as if ridding himself of the smell could somehow rid him of the cravings.
He continued up to check in with the guards; it was better than anyone noticing him walking back down for no apparent reason. "You did well holding the doors. We could have had some serious injuries on our hands."
One of them smirked. "We've faced down the Red Templars in Haven… Nobles aren't exactly a bloodthirsty horde." Cullen startled when he recognized Lysette, one of the templars who had joined shortly after the conclave. He hadn't been paying attention when he assigned her to the door.
"If we deprive them of gossip long enough, we'll see how bloodthirsty they get," he replied, returning Lysette's grin.
After his brief relapse, her quip gave him some much-needed perspective.
Unfortunately, the calm allowed Cullen's focus to drift back toward that all-too familiar hole in his chest; the pit he had fallen into as his fellow Templars were massacred while he watched — paralyzed and unable to help. He had spent a decade doing everything in his power to forget it, keep it from rendering him useless once more.
Between his racing thoughts and the traces of lyrium lingering in the air, Cullen was nearing that precipice again, closer than he had been in a long time — so close that a light breeze could push him forward, over that edge.
He reminded himself that Caitlin had faced Corypheus down in person and survived, even after being lost in an avalanche. He had to focus on that or he feared he would become worse than useless — a liability.
He resumed checking in with the guards posted around the yard. He stressed that they should be prepared to bring the mages anything they might need. He normally objected to his men being used as servants, but this was no time for petty power as Cullen turned back to the keep, a horn called out: someone was approaching Skyhold.
Cullen ran toward the gate to see several figures walking across the stone bridge into Skyhold. It was a small group — too small to be the full party, surely. There were only three figures, walking toward the fortress at what seemed an agonizingly slow pace. He could hear more people on the steps behind him, but he rushed forward to meet the group on the bridge; he was more concerned with news of Cat than whether the nobles had escaped their pen.
When he reached the bridge, he saw two scouts and Cole walking toward him. Was that a good thing or bad? Was Cole one of the survivors, or had the spirit's strange abilities made the scouts forget him and misreport the situation?
One of the soldiers saluted him. "Commander! We were sent ahead to see that you were properly notified. They rest are behind us, but the litter is slowing them down."
He nodded. "We received your raven. Preparations have been made."
"Have the mages at hand, ser. We had a couple of elfroot potions, but she needs a proper healer."
"She?" He tried his best to ignore his hammering heart.
Cat. Let it be, Cat. Blessed Andraste, protect your Herald once more.
"Seeker Pentaghast, ser."
A light breeze brushed across Cullen's flushed neck, pushing him a half step forward. "And the others?" he whispered.
"We don't know, ser. We found the Seeker alone and wounded; no sign of the others. But there was a trail of blood, so we think she had been moved. No way she could have made it on her own. We left people behind to find where she had come from and to keep a look out for any more trouble."
Cole finally began to speak, his words flowing out in the cadence of a chant. "I tried to stop them. I tried. I tried. I tried."
The spirit wasn't exactly coherent normally, but Cullen had never seen him in such a state. His large hat was missing, and tears flowed freely down the boy's face. His words were barely discernable through hiccuping sobs, his muttered comments directed to no one.
"I tried to make them stop. I tried to help, I tried, I tried, I tried, but it didn't work." Cole let out a shuddering breath. "Nothing worked…" He looked to the sky, the moon illuminating his tear streaks. "Though she's still alive. She's alive despite everything. She's alive. She's alive. She still lives. She is still alive."
Cullen nodded toward Cole. "And him?" he asked the scouts.
"Who, ser?" she asked in confusion. Right, no one would remember the spirit.
"Cole and the others," he elaborated, hoping to cover his slip-up. "The note made mention of Seeker Cassandra's injuries, but it mentioned casualties as well."
"It was being written as we set off. They must have found the others after we had left."
Leliana had said casualties. Plural. And Cat isn't here…
The scouts continued to stand there, waiting for his orders. Cullen pulled himself together enough to dismiss them.
"She's alive," Cole whispered to the moon. "I made sure of it. I couldn't save the others. I couldn't save them. But she's alive."
Cullen looked at the young man. Cole was trembling and looked impossibly small without his hat. Had he lost it? Wasn't it just something the spirit conjured?
"Who, Cole?" Cullen asked firmly.
Cole gave no sign of responding; he just stood there, blankly staring at the sky.
Cullen grabbed Cole's collar and forced the spirit to look him in the eye. "Who, Cole? Who are you talking about? Cassandra? Answer me!"
Cole nodded emphatically, his eyes large with fear. "She's alive at least. I tried to stop them. It didn't work. But she's still alive." His voice was only loud enough to hear over the breeze.
A bony hand on Cullen's wrist pulled him away from Cole. "Cole?" Solas' voice came from beside him. It must have been the Inner Circle he had heard on the stairs behind him. "Can you tell me what happened?"
All Cole managed to do was shake his head violently. "The others… I couldn't help them," he insisted. "But she's alive. She's alive. She's alive."
"That's all he's said," Cullen told the elf. "The—" his voice caught in his throat; caught in the terrible thought. "It was Cassandra who they found. It's Cassandra he's talking about."
For the first time since Cole returned, some clarity came back into his eyes and he focused his eyes on Cullen. "I couldn't make them forget!" he yelled, his voice all the more shrill in contrast to his soft murmurs. "I tried to but they're too jagged, sharp, cutting as they cut. They cut everyone down! I could only make them forget me and I couldn't stop them as they cut her down. Templars are killers! We need to kill them back!"
"The Templars?" he asked. "Red Templars are near Skyhold?" Cullen began mentally planning troop movements; this would not be a repeat of Haven.
Cole shook his head. He grabbed Cullen's fur mantle, pulling him close. Cole was yelling as though Cullen couldn't hear him, even though they were inches apart. "They left and we couldn't stop them!" he screamed. "I tried! We tried but they only forgot me! Forgot me and killed her and they left!" Cole's hands were buried so deep in the bear fur it pressed again Cullen's chest plate, rattling against the metal.
"So, the Inquisitor? She's—" Dorian seemed unable to give voice to the dreadful question they all needed the answer to.
Cole let out a frustrated groan and shook his head vigorously. "I couldn't make them forget her! She tried to stop them, freezing, burning, shocking, anything to make them stop, but they didn't stop so they stopped her instead! They killed her and I didn't kill them back!"
Cullen's world went black. Despite the torches, despite the full moon and the snow, despite his eyes being wide open, staring back at Cole, everything was dark.
Varric stepped between them. "You need to calm down, Kid. Tell us what happened."
Varric's request seemed to break whatever had pulled Cole into coherency. His hands went slack, slipping down until they hung listlessly at his sides. Cole looked back at the sky and resumed his muttering. "She's alive. They left me alone, but she's still alive at least. She's alive."
Solas' voice rumbled with irritation. "I'm afraid the experience has been too much for Cole. Pushing him will not help. I don't think we'll be able to find out more until they return with Seeker Cassandra."
Cullen heard Josephine speak up from somewhere behind him. "I've heard from the mages…" Her voice still sounded muddled but surely she must be awake by now. Perhaps it was muddled by her tears? Or perhaps it was his own head that was muddled? "Everything is in order and they are ready. Cassandra will be in the best of hands." Cullen admired her for holding it together so well. He barely noticed the hitch in her voice.
"I should—" Cullen started. I should what? What should he do? What could he do? "We should—" If Cat was dead and gone…what was the Inquisition without the Inquisitor? "I should go into the Valley." He started walking toward the stables for a horse. He was certain no one could see that he was stumbling over his feet rather than walking with them. "We should prepare for a march against the Red Templars." Though he could barely see, could barely walk, he found the steel in his voice. "We will hunt them down. This will not go unanswered."
"You are needed here, Commander," Leliana insisted. "Let my people track the Templars first."
"My troops need me more. Any information can be sent back to me."
Cullen felt Bull's hand gripping his shoulder. "Red's right. You need to stay here."
He shrugged Bull off vehemently, but before he could continue, Varric put a hand on his wrist.
"At least wait until Cassandra gets back, Cullen." Cullen paused — this might be the first time he had ever heard Varric call anyone by something other than his asinine nicknames. "I'm sure Cassandra will want you here. It'll be easier if we don't have to hunt you down." Varric was quiet, looking at the path down the mountain; the path that Cassandra — and not Cat — would be returning on.
Cullen pulled away, but less forcefully than he had with Bull. "I'll be in my office, gathering my things. I'm setting off once Cassandra is back in Skyhold."