Note: Just ah... would like to point out the change in rating. Please consider it and proceed accordingly.

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Boot steps echoing through the hallway, Cullen relied on old training to ensure he didn't simply sprint for his apartments. On the ride back to the keep he had chosen to remain silent, running his strategy in his head for their arrival; Cullen was not some deviant, but he was a man. Isabeau's words at the tavern had served to sate little more than his long-held ruminations, Cullen experienced enough that he knew he'd dallied in doubts for long enough.

He strode through the doors of his solar and made for the dais of water in his bed chamber, splashing the cool liquid across his face. Once done drying off, he unclasped his cape and tossed it haphazardly upon an arm chair before pulling his tunic over his head. He stripped to his smalls and pulled on his armor's under tunic and breeches, pushing his arms through his vest cloak. As he cinched both the vest's golden cord and his belt, he poured a goblet of wine, sending a silent prayer to the Maker before drinking deeply.

Breath... do something about your breath.

The servants of the keep had blessedly placed platters of fresh fruit in his chambers, Cullen reaching for a tangerine from the dining table. He cut out a wedge and hurriedly sucked on it, tossing the shrivelled remnants into his roaring hearth just as a knock came from his door.

Cullen was turning to answer as it opened from the other side, Isabeau tentatively poking her head in. As she stepped through the threshold and smiled shyly at him, Cullen felt a swell of yearning as he took her in; her hair was elegantly clipped up, strands of her ashen tresses cascading down to tease her slender neck, the dress elegantly simple. He walked towards her and clasped her hand in his as he kissed her knuckles, his eyes wickedly drawn to the swell of her breasts when he examined the embroidery along the garments neckline. Cullen pulled back and unabashedly drank her in, appreciating the belt accenting her wide hips.

"Your dress is... quite comely, my lady."

Isabeau fiddled with the numerous medallions dangling at her thigh as she laughed softly, "It's actually Leliana's; turns out I don't ah, own any dresses..."

"A pity."

She perked her eyebrows, "Is it?"

"A lady of your quality should have more opportunity to wear gowns," He extended a hand to gesture Isabeau towards the wing back chairs, the other pressing to the small of her back as he followed. She swept her hands under her bottom before sitting, Cullen filling two goblets of wine for them to drink.

"I fear the 'quality' of lady I am doesn't have much use for them," she said as she took her goblet with thanks, "War has been my dance for so long, grand balls tend to feel a bit... dull in comparison."

Cullen could not help but nod in agreement before leaning forward in his seat, "Surely in Hercinia you attended a gala or two?"

Isabeau smiled as she held up a single finger, "One. I was maybe in my ninth or tenth year and I remember screaming at my mum because I 'didn't want a prince, I wanted a sword!'- I met the Vael boys for the first time that night. Made Sebastian cry, too." She smiled as she brought her goblet to her lips, leaning back in the chair as her gaze grew fondly distant, "Ooh, my mum and I could have at it, though. She was Marcher noble to the bone. Dad though? His blood ran muddy there was so much Fereldish in there. Born and raised a Marcher... just don't look too close at the family tree."

They shared a quiet chuckle between them.

"I can't imagine why your mother would be... disgruntled," Cullen jabbed, frankly unsurprised; She was exactly the kind of little girl he had expected, not needing to guess which parent she took after.

"Aw bless her, she tried. Dad had no quarrel with my interests and he eventually downright encouraged them. To mum's credit; I know she was just as pleased when I was accepted to Starkhaven Academy."

He inquisitively raised an eyebrow, "You trained at Starkhaven?"

Isabeau nodded enthusiastically as she swallowed her sip of wine, "Mmm, I did, since I was eleven. I served as a squire until the age of sixteen before fully entering the Honour Guard by eighteen." She narrowed her eyes in reflection, "I had been on assignment during the coup d'état that befell the Vael family. The Trevelyan's of Hercinia are long allies to the Vael's of Starkhaven and I was... close with one of the family's elder sons."

Cullen thought of Sebastian back in Kirkwall, realizing Isabeau shared in the Prince's loss, "I am sorry."

She smiled sadly and waved his apology away, "It is done and... that was long ago now. I did eventually manage to track down Prince Sebastian, much later, and served in his growing forces. We had been preparing to recapture Starkhaven."

So the rumours were true.

He had heard of the Prince's intentions to yield the crown, but after the death of Grand Cleric Elthina, Sebastian had disappeared from Kirkwall. Aveline had filled in the gaps later for Cullen; not displeased to hear of Sebastian's oath to hunt for the Warden Mage. The state of the city aside, Cullen had simply lacked the manpower to offer assistance; he had been sorely tempted to hunt the murderer himself.

"I met Prince Vael on several occasions while he was in Kirkwall. I understand he is still embattled against his cousin." Cullen rose from his seat and picked up the platter of fruit, holding it before Isabeau as she plucked a few strawberries into her hand, "Forgive my ill-timed talk of business, my lady, but I feel it will be a battle which may require our intervention."

Isabeau nodded in solemn agreement, "I would not be... utterly opposed. Though I worry his volatility could prove risky in relation to the mages. When he learned of the consortium at the Temple of Andraste, it was Sebastian who arranged my assignment with Leliana, and by proxy, Justinia. It was not for diplomatic purposes."

Cullen nodded in agreement of the Prince's intentions though he did not miss the bitter note to her words, "Leliana has mentioned before... She had not thought you'd survived the blast."

"With good reason. I am yet to determine exactly what the true purpose my attendance served, but to my understanding, I was there as a precaution." Isabeau gave a tired sigh before she regarded Cullen evenly, "And what of you, Ser Cullen? Did you join the Templar Order young?"

He gulped down the last of his wine, "Yes, my career began in Denerim, where I mainly studied and trained before I was assigned to the tower of magi. As a young recruit, I was usually relegated to watch duty but occasionally..." He paused as a great explosion of red appeared behind his vision, "O-occasionally, a particularly... troublesome mage would escape and I would join a company of men for his retrieval." I pray the Maker has seen you cast to the Void, Warden.

Isabeau rose and fetched the decanter of wine, refilling hers and Cullen's goblets before sitting, "A runner? He must have been a good swimmer, too, to break out of Kinloch." He chuckled bitterly at the remark, watching as she worried at her lip in contemplation, her hands anxiously fidgeting with the goblet in her grasp.

"My lady, are you alright?"

She shook her head in slow assurance, "Yes, thank you. It's just..." She trailed off, her eyes downcast as she continued, "The dark haired mage, from the Fade... did you hunt her, too?"

A great weight settled in the pit of Cullen's stomach, the first mention of his long-kept secret now bare. Though it had remained unspoken between them for some time, he could not deny how much her knowledge of it dogged him. Isabeau's wade into the uncharted waters left Cullen feeling the first sting of their comfortable rapport; his body tensing as his fight or flight kicked in. She and one of the Vael son's... yet I'm the one expected to explain a past flame?

He angrily clenched his fists at both his angst and impudence, standing to sullenly approach the hearth as images of Amell's writhing form seemed to dance in the flames. "Never. She..." Cullen gave a great sigh, "I was naive and fostering a young man's...misguided infatuation. Amell was a decent woman and talented mage; I had attended her Harrowing and stood watch during enough of her activities for that to be clear. She could be mischievous, but I never thought her dangerous... and that was part of the problem."

"I'm sure it wasn't a... comfortable task," Isabeau offered gently, "Did you ever...?"

Cullen turned and briskly shook his head, "No. I may have been young, but my ardor was improper and I knew it." He opted to sit upon the plush rug before the fire, hearing a shuffling as Isabeau grabbed the fruit and joined him at his side. "Amell however, was not as shy in her intentions. She propositioned me shortly after her Harrowing. Rather than give in to temptation... I simply removed myself."

Isabeau looked at him in cautious suspicion, "Poor lass, you just ignored her?"

He frowned at her defensively, "She was one of my charges, it was not appropriate."

"So... you literally ran away?"

"It was not... my most gallant of moments, I confess," he cynically laughed at his own shame, "I agonized over our allotted stations like a mabari with a bone, but my duty was clear. I was spared any further self-torment when she was recruited by a Grey Warden, the Circle falling soon afterwards..."

Isabeau raised a hand haltingly.

"Wait. You... you fancied the Hero of Ferelden?" She gasped, her face reddening with a teasing smile, "I'm sorry, forgive my candor, I knew she had hailed from Kinloch but never did I suspect your shared... connection."

Cullen blanked out as all-encompassing images of the demon's torture invasively sprang to mind. Something ugly twisted inside him at the return of his vision and he scowled before snapping, "Because there was no connection - only the fancy of a foolish boy. A fancy I paid for dearly as you have regrettably come to see!"

It looked as if Cullen had reached out and struck her, Isabeau's face contorted in distress as she cast her gaze down from his. He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, immediately shamed by the sudden and unnecessarily harsh outburst. The residual trauma his tormentors had gifted him finally reared its ugly head, Cullen berating himself for not being in control.

The weight that hung in the silence of the room was blatant.

"...If we are being frank," Isabeau gingerly ventured, "I would confess to wishing I never had. You cannot know the quiet agony I have endured over what I saw, Cullen," Her voice had the slightest quiver as she raised a pair of honest and repentant eyes to meet his again. "If I gave the impression of nonchalance in my levity, I am most sorry. I should not have pried."

Maker's ass, apologize for your dramatics.

He ignored the scolding voice and instead chose honesty as he took Isabeau's hand in his, "This is... not a topic that will ever be easy for me, Isabeau. The choice of omitting that part of my torment has been taken from me; I am learning how to manage your knowledge of it."

Her hand reached to gently cup his jaw as she sighed, "Then let us even the field. You asked me once of the Breach? The truth is... I remember people burning and their screams as flames consumed them. I remember my comrades disintegrating before my very eyes, looking down to see my own flesh alight." She took a shaky breath as her hand fell from Cullen's face to grasp at the chest of his tunic, "But most of all, I remember a song... an achingly familiar melody that has nettled my mind ever since."

Blessed Andraste...

Both the events in Kirkwall and the Inquisition's own investigations allowed Cullen knowledge of the unnerving phenomena. Varric's account of Bartrand's infirmity had helped substantiate the Inquisition's on-going analysis of red lyrium, its danger and effects well established. The implications behind Isabeau's own current affliction suddenly soured the wine in his stomach, Cullen contrite as he cupped his mouth behind his hand, willing his nausea away.

"It comes back the strongest when I close rifts... or find myself too near veins or phials of raw lyrium," Isabeau further confessed, her grip on his tunic lessening as she pulled back and drank from her goblet.

Cullen gulped in a breath.

"Have you told Solas?"

"No."

"Will you?"

"...No." She answered initially before she paused at his balking, shaking her head in repentant clarification, "Cullen, I am aware I need to, I'm still... working on growing the pair I need in order to do it."

He sighed at the deflection and chewed on the inside of his cheek as he contemplated her admission, "Did it follow you... when you retrieved me from the Fade?"

Her lips went round as she perked in sudden realization, "Not... that I recall, oddly, no."

"You need to speak of this, Isabeau, especially to Solas. If you are tainted in some way, it could be early enough that we can prevent its spreading," he reached for her desperately then, his hands clasping her arms tightly as memories of Meredith surged forth. "Promise me."

Isabeau recoiled slightly in his grasp, "I'm not going insane nor am I tainted, Cullen. It is occasionally distracting but at worst it is uncomfortable. I can handle it."

"That's not good enough."

"It's going to have to be. I have no choice in the matter, Cullen. Until we are at the essence of the issue, I can't afford to agonize over conjecture or lose time being coddled."

"Maker, but you can be a stubborn woman," Cullen's nostrils flared slightly as he exhaled in exasperation. Isabeau shrugged sadly before she reached for his hand and tightly squeezed it in her own.

"I meant what I told you before, Cullen... I need you to help keep the lines clear. I wouldn't ask if I didn't feel you capable." Her lips pressed softly against his scarred, calloused knuckles, "...Now we bear each other's burdens. Honor me with the courtesy of patience and I will be glad to give it in turn."

The tight coil of his emotions suddenly relaxed as he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. Cradling her against his chest, he tilted his head down to plant a soft kiss to the top of her head. Maker, just this one thing... allow me just this modicum of succor. They gently rocked back and forth before the hearth in a heavy silence, Isabeau breaking it as she twisted in his arms, her face inches from his. She fiddled with the tassels of his vests' cord before lifting her eyes again.

"Is... this wise of us?"

"As your advisor? Absolutely not."

Isabeau dejectedly began to pull away at his reply; Cullen smiling then as he gently cupped her face in his hands, his lips pressing firmly against hers before he broke off, "As your consort? I'd say there's room for... interpretation."

The flesh across Isabeau's bosom rivaled her dress in that instant, Cullen wickedly revelling at her fluster as he continued the kiss. She returned it in kind, his arm guiding her onto her back, his elbows coming to rest at either side of her head as he loomed over her. She moaned through the kiss as her leg came to hook around his thigh, Cullen's tongue now darting between her lips to entangle with hers. They broke off to catch their breaths, her nose gently rubbing against the tip of his own as her fingers raked deliciously through the hair at the back of his head.

Cullen placed a hand behind her head in turn, pulling her closer until their foreheads pressed together, "I have harbored... affections for you for longer than is easy to admit, Isabeau." He leaned down and kissed her deeply again, groaning as her hips rose to grind against his. He hardened painfully at the action, his gasps of breath between their harried kissing growing heavier.

"Cullen," Isabeau breathed his name throatily as he began to kiss down her neck and along her collarbone. He abruptly sat back and scooped Isabeau up in his arms, carrying her towards his bedchamber with her legs wrapped tightly around his hips. They crashed down atop his mattress in a flurry of movement, Isabeau's hands hurriedly undressing him, yanking off his vest and tunic while Cullen planted kisses at the swells of her breasts between her efforts. She licked her lips hungrily as she ran her fingers down the muscles of his chest and abdomen, her hands pausing at the laces of his breeches. As she stopped, Cullen ceased his own ministrations and leaned back in concern.

"My lady?"

Isabeau pulled away with almost a cringe and buried her face in her hands then, shaking her head as she uttered her apologies. She laid flat on the bed, her fingers raking through her hair as she caught her breath and smiled at him ruefully, "I am sorry, Cullen. I want this, just... not quite yet. May... we stop for now?"

"Of course," he agreed with no qualm, nodding as he rose from the bed and plucked his tunic from the floor, pulling it over his head again. "I... hope I did not dare for too much?"

"Not at all, Ser Knight," she purred as she rose to her knees, her arms encircling his waist as she squeezed him against her. Cullen reached down and massaged her shoulders as he regarded her fondly, frowning at the knots and tension he felt beneath his fingers. Isabeau let out a soft mewl of satisfaction as Cullen worked out a particularly bad knot, the Inquisitor forcibly yanking him back to the bed with her as she lay back down. The couple shimmied until they lay correctly again in the great bed, Isabeau planting soft kisses at the corner of his lips before propping her head in her hand.

"I have been hasty in the past, Cullen... and it burned me. I would not dishonor your affections with the same mistake."

Cullen could not help but capitalize on the turned tables, "Vael?"

Her gaze darkened.

"Yes, and it literally could not have ended worse." She tickled at the hair behind his ear affectionately as she pressed herself closer across his chest, "It was not an easy pain to bear, on both counts."

"'Both counts'?"

Isabeau shut her eyes as she reached to rub at them tiredly, "My tryst with Corbinian ended with his death. When I found Sebastian... he and I eventually sought comfort together once reunited. It was... messy."

A scoff of incredulity snuck out from between Cullen's lips.

Pious Prince Sebastian?

"Forgive me; the rumour of his celibacy was active amongst Kirkwall's weaving circles and travelled quickly. He was a Brother of the Chantry."

"Yes well, Sebastian is also rash, honorable to a fault and puts my occasional obstinacy to shame," Isabeau rolled to her side, facing away from Cullen. "I knew he still carried a torch for the Champion's sister, but I willingly submitted to our impulsions. His honour soon saw me sent to the Frostbacks."

He and I have very different definitions of the word.

Cullen's jaw clenched as he swallowed his disdain, the mention of Bethany Hawke barely registering.

Rolling over to spoon her body in his from behind, Cullen kissed at the junction of her neck, his lips trailing up and back down to her shoulder. For quite some time he laid there, running his fingertips over the contours of her upper body. As her delighted but sleep-laden moans lessened in his ears, he pulled her protectively against him.

"By my honour, you'll see me at your side as long as you'll have me there."

When she did not reply any further, Cullen allowed his eyes to close, sleep swiftly taking its hold of him.