Cullen turned to look at Solas, searching his face for some clue as to what he might say. The apostate had always avoided any templars — himself included, and Solas had become even more reclusive in the past week.

"Of course," Cullen rasped out, practically jumping up from his seat.

He followed Solas out of the pub. In the waning sunlight, the courtyard was trampled but quiet. Skyhold almost seemed empty now. He felt more at ease since that first horrible message had come, now free of the hundreds of eyes watching him.

Cullen scrutinized the man before him. He looked haggard: his eyes were bloodshot and his shoulders sagged. He never seemed to flag or wear out — even after the attack on Haven, Solas helped with the injured longer than any other mage. Cullen couldn't understand why; the mage spent most of his time asleep these days.

"What do you know?" Cullen asked cautiously. "Why hasn't Leliana come to me with this news?"

Solas tilted his head. "Has she not spoken to you about my work?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Cullen asked, "You've become one of her spies?"

"My particular talents are hardly suited for espionage, Commander," Solas remarked dryly. "I suspect our spymaster knows as much." Solas took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I had been searching for Caitlin in the Fade, with little success. As I have no way of knowing her physical location, finding her proved ...unexpectedly difficult."

Cullen's heart began to race. "But you believe you've found her?" he whispered.

"I made contact with her this afternoon." Solas started toward the main staircase, motioning for Cullen to follow. "Only briefly. The templars are draining her mana, leaving sleep as her only means of entering the Fade. She was awoken before I could ascertain her location. Luckily, I've established a link that will allow me to locate her the moment she re-enters the Fade."

"So this is simply a matter of being asleep at the same time?"

Solas confirmed with a nod.

Cullen looked around at the empty courtyard, destroyed by the fleeing nobles. The guest quarters were vacated now. "Can I assist you in some way? Better lodgings perhaps, or-"

Solas replied with a chuckle, raising a placating hand. "I assure you, the delay is from her end, not mine. Her absence from the Fade is the only remaining impediment."

Cullen shook Solas' hand vigorously. "Thank you for this," he said earnestly. "I had begun to think— " He cut himself off, refusing to voice his doubts — not when they were so close.

"Think nothing of it," Solas said firmly. "I refuse to leave her at the mercy of madmen and their whims." An odd look passed over Solas' face, but he shook away wherever his thoughts had drifted. "I was wondering if there was anything you wished to ask the Inquisitor or for me to tell her?"

"Any identifying markers of her location. A count of her guards. Some clue as to why they had her kidnapped and kept alive could also prove helpful."

Solas smiled as if indulging a child. "I do plan on gathering basic information about the templars along with my personal impressions of her location. I was referring to a message of a more personal nature."

"A perso-" Cullen could feel his cheeks heat up when he understood the elf's request. "That is, I…"

"Caitlin simply wished to hear from you. She had a message for you, but they woke her."

Cullen wracked his mind as he rubbed his neck, trying to find the right words. He certainly wanted to assure Cat, to tell her how much he loved her, missed her, was worried for her — but he wasn't completely comfortable having Solas pass on such a message.

A ghost of a smile crossed Cullen's lips as he thought back to his and Cat's last morning together. "Tell her that I am still waiting for my knight in shining armor... She'll understand my meaning."

If Solas thought it was an odd thing to say, he gave no indication of it. "Very well," he said with a nod. "I will inform you once I've spoken to her." The two parted ways, each heading to their own sanctuary.

Impatient and anxious for news, Cullen couldn't focus on paperwork, and with the troops called back and Rylen in camp, there wasn't anything for him to physically do other than pace in his tower well into the night. At a loss, he took out his set of throwing daggers — his aim improved, but his mood did not.

What is taking so long? Is this normal? Was it mere chance that Solas found her? He said that they were draining her mana; would that keep her from dreaming?

Restless, he took his sword and headed to the training yard.

Hacking at a training dummy was different than sparring sessions with his men; he could jab and strike with the familiar weight of his own blade.

His sword was the one constant in his adult life. His armor had changed, the banner he served under had changed, even his own beliefs had changed — but his sword was constant.

He ran through familiar drills, patterns he'd been running since adolescence. They settled him, let his mind focus on the moves.

Swing. Thrust. Parry.

He sped up his steps. Gave his swings more power. Straw peeked through where he had repeatedly punctured the canvas.

"You're harder on that dummy than I am."

He turned to find Cassandra leaning against the doorway of the infirmary. "You shouldn't be out of bed yet," he panted, wiping sweat from his brow.

"If I stay in bed much longer, I am going to strangle the healers — and then where would I be." She gave a half shrug, arm pinned by her bandages.

In the soft glow from the tavern, she looked better than she had the day before. She angled herself against the door awkwardly. Her hip was stiff and not fully healed. Cullen couldn't decide if her moving on her own this early was promising or just spoke of her own stubbornness.

"Have you heard?" He resumed his attacks. "About Solas finding the Inquisitor?"

She levered herself to sit in the doorway of the infirmary, resting heavily against the doorframe. "Yes, I heard. I'm glad we finally have a solid lead." Cullen hit the dummy particularly hard, slicing the end off an arm. "You seem on edge."

Cullen kicked the wood out of his way while following through his next swing. "I don't like leaving her fate in the hands of an apostate and unknown magics."

"You would rather leave Caitlin's fate in the hands of Corypheus?"

Cullen stopped. "Maker, no!" Cassandra just fixed him with a glare and he sighed. "I'm grateful for any information. But this…" He rested his sword at his side and dragged a hand through the mess of his hair. "This is not an area I'm comfortable with."

"The Inquisitor inhabits that same area," Cassandra reminded him. "She is an apostate as well, and the Mark is a form of magic no one understands."

Cullen looked at the ground, unwilling to meet her eyes. "I'm aware of my… hypocrisy. But Cat lets you forget she's a mage. Solas seems to revel in it."

Cassandra made a derisive sound in the back of her throat. "One of the very first things she told me was that she didn't need a staff to be dangerous. I conceded the point— despite the overwhelming urge to punch her." "Yet you think she doesn't like reminding people that she's a mage. That's how you view her?"

"I — No…" he finally admitted, slightly ashamed. "No, that's just how shelets me view her."

"She didn't want to be a mage."

He wasn't even sure why he was telling this to Cassandra. Perhaps he just needed to talk about Cat, not as a mission, but as a person — as the woman he loved.

"Her mother was her clan's First; when she died, they waited to see if Cat had magic before taking in another mage. One day she accidentally set fire to a bush while bickering with her brother; she said she just got angrier about being a mage and made the fire worse…" He gave a soft chuckle. Once, the idea of an apostate losing control of their magic like that would have horrified him — yet now he was chuckling fondly. "She— she loves her magic… She just didn't want to be the clan's First, but Cat loves her magic. It's just as much a part of her as her pointed ears — and I love her, magic and all."

Cassandra give him an approving grin. "Good."

"You're not the sort to try and have a heart to heart with me," he told her.

The derisive sound turned into one of thorough disgust. "It is these potions. They loosen my tongue." She rolled her eyes. "I told Varric earlier how much I loved his writing. That was the word I used. The dwarf will hold that over me until the day I have finally had enough and I strangle him."

Cullen continued through with his exercises for a while and Cassandra watched him, offering minor critiques to his form.

"I regret that I won't be in any condition to help retrieve her," Cassandra murmured. "I assume you'll be leaving tomorrow."

"Once we have a location," he replied, panting once more. "I sent word to Rylan earlier. He knows we are close to having a destination and the troops will be ready to march."

"Cullen…" Cassandra took a deep breath and he lowered his sword at her pause. "I'm sorry I didn't protect her. That my shield wasn't enough."

"You nearly died! Vivienne did die! I have no doubt that you gave all that you could protecting her. None."

"Once I was down, they ignored me. Cole shouldn't have protected me — I shouldn't have needed him to protect me."

Cullen took another hard swing at the dummy. "The Inquisitor thought that was the right course of action." His sword took a notch out of the other arm. "And if she made the wrong decision, now is not the time to be questioning her."

"Is there a time?" Cassandra asked, confused.

"Once she's returned," he growled as he stabbed the canvas and straw, "we may need to have a discussion with her about leaving her support behind."

"You are angry at her," Cassandra accused.

Her words pulled him up short.

Is that it?

He looked at the thrashing he had given the dummy; it was hardly recognizable.

"Culle— " Cassandra started to stand up but she doubled over in pain. He rushed over and placed her arm around his shoulder and led her back to her bed.

Cassandra stared at him. "She fought until she couldn't fight any more."

"She just gave up," he growled.

"She made a tactical retreat."

"Her legs were— " Her words choked up, either with recent pain or the memory of another pain. "They were mangled. She had no way of using her magic. If she had kept fighting, they might have simply cut their losses and killed her."

He paled at the thought. "You're right. Maker, you're right. I'm being an idiot."

"You're worried. We all are." He helped pull the blanket over her and then walked over to where the potions were stored.

"When do you think you'll be well enough to start walking around? With permission, that is."

"Soon, I hope. I—"

She was cut off by Varric knocking on the door. "There you are, Curly! Chuckles has news. We're supposed to meet him in the War Room."

"Go," Cassandra told him. "And come see me before you leave."

"Still in love with my literary talents, Seeker?" Varric was smirking.

Cassandra attempted to point at the door. "Out."

Cullen walked out, followed by a still-laughing Varric.

The Inner Circle was scattered around the War Room. Sera was leaning against a window sill looking a little tipsy still, but no worse for wear. The other two advisors had placed themselves in their usual locations, likely more comfortable with the habit. Cullen joined them, though it felt wrong that it was Solas on the other side of the table and not the Inquisitor. Solas ignored them and was studying the map, eyes focused on a section in northern Orlais.

"You said you have news," Cullen prompted, "Did the Inquisitor say where she is?"

Solas looked up and gave a small shake of his head. "She doesn't know specifically other than with Samson. They took no break the entire trip and were moving at an unnatural pace, so she's more than a four days ride from Skyhold. Since arriving at their destination, they placed her in a dungeon and had a mage deal with her injuries, and have left her alone."

"So they're just leaving her to rot?" Dorian was scowling. "What was the point of even capturing her alive then?"

Solas raise a placating hand up. "Not entirely. They had two guards posted outside and a Tranquil named Maddox — "

"Maddox?" Cullen cut in.

"Do you know him?" asked Josephine.

"Yes, back in Kirkwall." He paused, trying to organize his thoughts. "He was a friend of Samson's — Maddox was why he was kicked out of the Order. He's with Samson?"

Solas gave a slight nod. "But he doesn't answer any of her questions. Most of what she has gathered has been from comments made outside her door."

"And what has she gathered?" Leliana asked.

"They wish to use her in a ritual of some sort." Solas frowned, still focused on the map while weighing his words carefully. "It's something Corypheus wishes for her. She doesn't know what the ritual is, only that it makes the Templars uneasy."

"Well, that encouraging," Varric scoffed. "When the horrors drinking red lyrium think something is freaky, you know you're about to deal with some really freaky shit."

"And is Corypheus there?" Cullen asked. Fighting a squadron of Red Templars was entirely different facing down Corypheus — not that it would have stopped Cullen.

Solas paused for a moment, puzzling the question over first. "No," he replied slowly. "I don't believe so. The red lyrium thins the Veil and causes the host to half bleed over into the Fade, even awake. I could see the Red Templars around her, but saw no hint of Corypheus."

"So this ritual…" Leliana said. "This is why they wanted her. It must have something to do with the Anchor."

"We could have guessed as much already," Cullen said dryly. "But we need to find her before they do whatever it is. Do you have a location or not?"

"I observed things in the Fade I recognized from my travels," Solas continued. "She's in a ruined Tevinter temple — which one, I cannot say for certain, but only a small few could be a match. It will be north from here, but likely still in Orlesian borders."

"If she's being kept with Samson, we should go to Sahrnia and finish what she started. She was there to find Samson." Cullen looked at the map, still marking the Inquisitor's mission. "She'd found letters that said he was running a large operation in Emprise and thought that once there she find out his location."

Solas pondered the idea briefly but ultimately shook his head no. "I don't think that will be necessary. When she next sleeps, I can determine precisely where she is. Her grip on the Fade is tenuous, but I will need only moments to finish narrowing down which ruin."

"So we still have nothing to act upon," Cullen rumbled out. He was tired of having to just wait and see.

"Not entirely," replied Solas. "Dorian, you mentioned once that you found some old Imperium maps in the library. Perhaps they will help me recall details that will let me narrow it down further."

Dorian gave a mock gasp. "I suppose Skyhold's library isn't completely useless after all!"

"In the meantime," Josephine put in, "everyone else should go get some sleep. We will likely need it for the days to come."

Everyone filed out of the room, leaving Solas behind to wait for Dorian and Leliana to retrieve the maps.

"Is there something I can still help you with, Commander?" Solas asked when he noticed Cullen still hovered in the doorway.

"Did Cat have anything to say…" for me, he left unsaid.

Solas winced slightly. "Yes… Caitlin wished me to tell you that—" and to Cullen's great surprise, Solas turned a deep shade of red, rising all the way to the tips of his ears.

When he continued to hesitate, Cullen prompted him. "She wanted to say…" What did Cat say that has him so flustered?

"Forgive me — it is a rather unconventional message. I fear she was playing a trick, though I am unsure whether it is on you or me."

"Out with it, I won't hold it against you," he assured.

Solas breathed in deeply before saying in a rush, "She asked me to tell you that you make a rather 'pretty princess.'"

A great roar of unexpected laughter bubbled out of Cullen. Or perhaps it seemed rather large since it was the first hint of anything close to it he had let out since Cat had left.

"The trick is on you then and not me," Solas said with a returning grin.

"Yes," Cullen agreed, his face hurting from his large grin. "She…"

That brat! He really did speak to Cat! Not that he thought Solas had been lying, but the Fade could sometimes stretch the limits of Cullen's belief.

He tried to pull himself together but a snicker escaped everytime he did. "It was— It was just something she said before she left. Thank you."

"Think nothing of it, I was happy to be of help. And we will get her back," Solas assured him.

Cullen mouth was still quirked up into a smile. He had been told that several times but for the first time, he truly believed it. Solas really had spoken to Cat and she was alive! Her pure cheek — even while being held prisoner — let him believe things would be fine; believe in a way that all the hollow assurances had not done before. They were going to get her back. He was going to get her back. He was going to get to hold her and kiss her and hear her say 'I love you' once more.

Cullen shook Solas' hand. "Thank you," he said again. "I don't think you can understand what that means to me."

Solas gave a small quirk of a smile in return. "I thank you for not hitting me."

As Cullen let go of his hand, Solas swayed slightly on his feet.

He placed a hand on his shoulder to steady the mage. "Are you alright?"

Solas eyes were distant, roaming like he was searching for something. "I'm fine, I thought—" He buckled over and completely collapsed.

Cullen barely caught him in time. He had been around mages for all of his adult life — he knew what it looked like when a mage entered the Fade — but he had never seen one slip in so suddenly; mid-sentence even.

Solas returned to himself just as quickly. He had hoped that Solas would assure him that there was nothing to worry about, that it was just exhaustion or a quirk of the Fade. But when their eyes connected, the look of pure fear Solas had struck directly at that faint glimmer of hope that had begun to take root within Cullen.

"What is it?" Something was wrong — so wrong that Solas had felt it across the Fade, even in waking.

"Call everyone back!" Solas was frantic, jogging over the a stone bench near the War Table. "I need to see if I can find her…"

"What's happened?" Cullen demanded.

Solas ignored his question. "Go! Now!" he ordered and slipped into the Fade before he had even fully sat down, leaving Cullen with nothing to do but obey.

Cullen found Josephine still in her office quietly talking to Blackwall. They both turned toward him when burst into the room.

"Cullen, what is it?" Blackwall asked, quick to recognize a crisis.

"I'm not sure," Cullen breathed out. "Solas wouldn't say. Just told me to find everyone."

"I will go look after him," Josephine said running toward the War Room. "You get the others."

Cullen raced out of the room with Blackwall on his heels. In the Great Hall, Cullen could see Varric walking toward his usual table with Iron Bull's silhouette exiting the main doors.

Blackwall grabbed Cullen's shoulder. "I've got this, Cullen. You just keep near Solas — find out what's going on."

Cullen nodded and ran back to the War Room, regretting his earlier workout. Now sore and stiff, he felt like he was running through water, not on solid stone.

In the War Room, he found a sweat-drenched Solas and a sobbing Josephine.

"What it is?" Cullen gasped out.

"Oh, Cullen!" Josephine ran to his arms and that small bit of hope died out as he mechanically wrapped his arms around the diplomat.

Solas looked completely changed from when Cullen had left him. Drenched in sweat, trembling in exhaustion, and struggling for air. "I can't find any trace of the Inquisitor in the Fade," Solas managed between breaths.

Cullen swallowed before he said flatly, "Cat's dead." He wished he'd been able to phrase it like a question. But the fear he had seen in Solas' eyes earlier had taken away any lie he could have tried to comfort himself with.

Solas shook his head. "I-...I had feared as much as well."

"Then, what…" Cullen wasn't even sure what to ask. If she isn't dead, then what else could have happened?

Solas recovered enough to speak. "I swayed when I felt our connection through the Fade snap." Solas ran a shaking hand over his face. "I looked for her but could only find the Mark." Solas took a moment again to find enough air. "The Red Templars thoughts make an impression in the Fade, but lack form or structure. I had spared myself the trouble of trying to understand them while I could directly converse with the Inquisitor… I am a fool!" he spat out so suddenly that Josephine startled against Cullen.

"Ju— Just say what it is." Cullen was sure he didn't want to hear the rest, but he uncertainty was no better.

Solas dragged a hand over his bald head, wanting to pull at hair that wasn't there. "Caitlin was not raised near Circle mages or templars, she lacked context for certain nuances. When she said ritual, I took her words at face value — not catching that she had interchanged 'ritual' with 'rite'." He was shaking, but it maybe have been in fury instead of exhaustion. "They were saying 'Rite' not 'ritual'. To Caitlin, that was the same thing."

"What are you saying?" Cullen whispered. The word 'Rite' had very specific connotations to templars — it would not be used casually. The previous emptiness he'd felt that one horrible night was washing over him again, threatening to drown him.

He didn't want to hear what Solas had to say. He didn't want the answer that he feared was coming.

Death would be kinder…

But Cullen had asked — and Solas answered.

"They have made Caitlin Tranquil."

End Part 1