Ooookay. So, I think it goes without saying this is officially a bit of an alternate universe. That being said, for any discrepancies between this fic and Inquisition's plot, I ask only for your patience and understanding – I had stopped updating as I didn't want to stray too far pre-Inquisition's release. I have finally beaten the game however, and I'm pleased to say I think I can make this work. My updates will be sporadic but I'll ensure they're long and worthwhile.

Welcome to new readers and thank you to any who have revisited!

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True to his word, Sebastian had indeed committed a considerable allocation of his personal forces to the Inquisition, humbly making his farewells as Isabeau swallowed the awkward knot in her throat at their departing embrace. Though his gaze now lingered for longer than Isabeau was entirely comfortable with, Sebastian had not spoken to Isabeau again since their confrontation the previous night; Isabeau grateful for his poise as the blue eyed Prince bowed finally and made his way to his awaiting carriage.

Once Sebastian and his remaining forces had disappeared down the Villa's pristine drive, Isabeau had barely contained a heavy sigh, the sensation of a burden's release worryingly foreign to her. Looking back on the bizarre and trying string of events that had delivered her to where she now stood, Isabeau's face darkened as she absently gazed across the sprawling gardens, the various people who had gathered beginning to disperse until soon only she remained. While there was some succor to be found in gaining a valuable ally, the comfort it afforded was not distraction enough from the turmoil that still churned within her. With her father's death, Isabeau had simply not had the opportunity to reflect on anything besides her grief and its grim necessities.

Now, with most of her family's affairs approaching order again and the Inquisition with a comfortable allotment of soldiers, along with the promise of additional forces in the near future, Isabeau found herself at an uncomfortable impasse. Though a voice chided her to take advantage of the precious and fleeting quiescence, the Inquisitor found herself increasingly distracted by heavier concerns that ran to a depth she was afraid to face. The feeble dam she had erected to stem the pressure of her existence was steadily giving way; cracks forming at an alarming rate as the intrusive thoughts and memories surged with rising pressure. Since her survival of the Conclave, Isabeau had been branded both an enemy and an icon; Lelianna and Josephine both vocal, if not blatantly encouraging at times, in their approval of Isabeau's rumored epithet. Exasperating as it was to the Inquisitor herself. The Inquisition had only just grasped a solid ledge towards legitimacy however; Isabeau initially too wary of encouraging any rumors on her alleged Divinity in the enterprise's inaugural days.

With a slump of her shoulders in tired defeat, Isabeau cringed inwardly as she cautiously accepted she soon needed to acknowledge the inconvenient questions that had plagued her since shackles encased her wrists that fateful day. Following the chaotic scramble of battles and introductions when first approaching the Breach, it had not just been the distractions of spreading their crusade in the aftermath that had made circumventing the ensuing questions easy. With the various revelations that had detonated like Gaatlok in the wake of her expulsion from the Fade, an inherent and all-encompassing fear had selfishly made avoidance recklessly simple. In the short period between her arrival in Hercinia and the events at Andoral's Reach, Isabeau had stubbornly suppressed trying to fit all the puzzle pieces together, as much for self-preservation as necessity.

Questions within questions and never an answer. I wonder what would the people of Thedas think if their "Herald" was, by the way, just a smidgen possessed.

Isabeau suppressed a wary snort. That particular discovery was still very much up for debate in her opinion, a debate which she knew would now take place sooner rather than later.While it was achievable in theory to shift the Inquisition's focus from military and diplomatic might, Isabeau was terrified of accepting it meant said focus would uncomfortably rest upon her. She had strived to hide away her inner most fears and the havoc they wrought; the prospect of publicly facing those desperately guarded secrets leaving her agonizingly paralyzed. You need to speak to Solas about this; to all of them… and be finished with this melancholy.

"Ugh," she groaned aloud at her nagging scruples, reaching to rub tiredly at the sides of her head.

"Something troubling you, lethallan?"

Snapped from her introspection, Isabeau turned and smiled warmly at her approaching companion, "Tell me, Solas; are you a mind reader?"

The mage's eyes shifted to the side as he chuckled softly, his hands adjusting their grip around his staff as he rested his weight upon it. "Alas, no… I'm afraid that's not a talent I possess," He quirked his eyebrow at her as he seemed to consider her odd enquiry, "My timing on the other hand appears… impeccable."

Isabeau sniffed in subdued amusement as a wry smile spread across her face, "I was… just thinking. Of Evangeline, Cole… the Breach," she let out yet another of her deep and seemingly unending sighs, "I need to find the answers, Solas."

"And we will, in due time. The Inquisition remains a fledgling enterprise, but soon it will have wings… and I believe you are on the right path to ensure its flight," the elf comforted softly, a hand reaching to squeeze Isabeau's shoulder.

Isabeau turned into the touch, her eyes shamefully downcast as she grew contrite over her cowardice. "Your support… has always meant a great deal to me, Solas. I hope I never give you, or any who have entrusted me with this task, reason to doubt," she confessed softly before she pulled back from the elf's hand, her arms coming to insecurely wrap around her middle as she leaned against a nearby balustrade. "With Sebastian's support and what we can gain from the Mages and Templars at the Reach, it's just… this is starting to feel a lot more real; if… that makes any sense."

"Given our humble beginnings, I can see why you would feel that way," Solas agreed evenly. "You now have a considerable force at your command, Inquisitor; one that can only grow as you navigate this crisis. I… have some suggestions, in regards to next steps, if you are ever interested in hearing them."

Isabeau blinked at Solas incredulously, "Of course. My advisors are my companions and vice versa; never feel you cannot add your perspective, Solas."

"I never said I had; I have merely waited for the principal opportunity. It would be dishonest of me to say I have not been agonizing over the same reflections as you…" he trailed off as he rested his staff against a nearby pillar, coming to stand and share in Isabeau's view of the beautiful garden before them. After a brief silence, he turned to catch Isabeau's gaze, his own eyes encouraging as he seemed to find his words, "It is… never easy to face ourselves; whether it be the motives and aspirations that form our dreams… or our fears and mistakes that add kindle to the nightmares. But… with reflection can come clarity."

"I would argue that's easier for some than others," Isabeau drawled ruefully before pushing off from the railing, she and Solas moving to climb the many stairs that lead back into the heart of the Villa, continuing to chat as they made for the main atrium. "I know our first attempt at closing the Breach was not entirely successful; truthfully, the weight of its ongoing existence plagues me like a bad itch. I just frankly haven't figured out how to quite make that itch go away... or how exactly I fit into the solution."

Solas came to a stop before a collection of planters overflowing with various stalks of Embrium, the elf briefly appreciating one of the many beautifully coloured leaves before speaking, " I think we are headed in the right direction in gaining both the Mage's and Templar's various strengths. However, I'm not certain our current numbers from either Order would be enough to augment your own talents." He turned to Isabeau then, nodding determinedly, "Permit me more time to think on this. You need more rest, Isabeau; the Inquisition can afford this moment to breathe, I think."

Biting her lower lip as she nodded in acquiescence, Isabeau watched as Solas nearly made his way out of the atrium before she found herself crying out for his return. The elf's smooth head reappeared from behind a support pillar, an eyebrow questioningly quirked at Isabeau as she shook her head at her own absent-mindedness, "I'm sorry, there is… one other thing I wanted to ask you." Isabeau nervously began wringing her hands, Solas' eyes narrowing in concern at her apparent unease, "Back… at the Reach. Cullen had mentioned… feeling my beam. Is it… possible I've been tainting him somehow?"

A gentle smile cracked Solas' usual stoic features, his eyes soft as he took Isabeau's nervous hands in his own and calmly but firmly held them still, "No, but this is a discussion, I think, we should have with Cullen's participation. Once we have returned to Skyhold and are settled, the two of you should come see me, at your leisure. Now… go and rest, you will need it." With a final squeeze of one of Isabeau's hands, Solas nodded encouragingly and then strode towards the antechambers that lead to the guest suits, Isabeau soon finding she was alone again in the setting sunlight streaming through the atriums vast arches.

"There you are."

Turning with a small smile on her lips at the familiar voice, Isabeau couldn't resist cocking her hip playfully as she crossed her arms at Cullen, "Were you looking for me?"

"Yes," Cullen breathed quickly at first before clearing his throat as he levelled his gaze with Isabeau's, a sigh of mild exasperation escaping his lips before continuing. "I mean… no. I knew you were seeing off Sebastian, I just… expected you in your quarters after," Cullen reached to habitually rub at the back of his neck, Isabeau always warmed by his more timid behaviours. "Was that Solas you were speaking with?"

"Mmhm," Isabeau hummed in acknowledgement as Cullen sidled slowly toward her to affectionately run a leather clad hand up her arm. She looked down at his gentle and subtle gesture before resting a hand of her own atop it comfortingly, "We were… just discussing our ideas of what comes after this brief interlude."

"Ah, a necessity to be sure…" the Commander agreed distractedly, Isabeau narrowing her eyes in light scrutiny as Cullen's awkwardness became increasingly clear. The ex-templar clearly feeling her gaze, Cullen pulled his hand from beneath hers only to clutch it between them, "I… know we will be leaving here within the next day or two; that we need to convene with the others and mobilize. Decisions to be made. Questions… to be asked." His voice softened as he tilted his head slightly to nuzzle his jaw against her cheek. "I have nearly everything in order for our departure but I was hoping – that is, I meant to ask-"

"Cullen…" Isabeau began, her tone one of genial admonishment as she watched her paramour stumble over his words, unable to deny the clandestine joy she still found in his more sheepish moments. As she brought her free hand to cup his cheek, the bristles of his facial hair tickling the soft skin of her cheek further from the added pressure, Cullen seemed to almost sink against her as his anxiety appeared to lessen at his heavy exhale.

"When we first arrived, I had… enjoyed the grounds with Varric and Solas. All but one place in particular, however." Cullen leaned to affectionately press his forehead to hers, Isabeau's heart swelling at the unguarded action, "It was my hope, before we leave… I may yet see it in your company."

"And where was this?" she whispered playfully, their hands coming to rest on each other's hips as they sidled closer.

Cullen smirked, "There was… a gated path; it appeared to lead down to the shoreline."

Immediately Isabeau knew of which path he spoke, squashing the heavy and persistent anxiety as far down as possible before she grinned wickedly, pulling away to impulsively snatch his hand. Cullen let out a bemused chuckle as he half jogged behind her, Isabeau leading them back the way she had previously come with Solas.

"I gather you know… which one I am speaking of," Cullen chuckled as the pair walked briskly hand in hand down the imposing front steps of the Villa, Isabeau determinedly leading them through the sprawling grounds and towards where it approached the sea below.

"How could I not? It was mine," Isabeau explained softly as they approached an impressive iron gate that lead to the descending steps. "My father…" she swallowed at the sudden lump in her throat that broke her voice, reaching to swing the gate open as its hinges screeched in protest. "He… had it commissioned by our masons after I was caught climbing the cliff faces one too many times in my youth."

"Why… am I not surprised," Cullen teasingly mused aloud, his hand squeezing her own as they carefully but steadily descended the well maintained steps. When their boots left hard stone and met with the hot white sand of the Villa's beach, Cullen hesitated; Isabeau forced to come to a stop beside her Commander as he shyly averted his gaze from the questioning of her own. "I-ah… I didn't mean to, that is… this wasn't urgent, Isabeau."

"No, it's not urgent… but it's important," she breathed in response, releasing her grasp of his hand to unceremoniously plop down atop the last few stairs behind them. As she worked at the various buckles and laces of her knee-high boots, Cullen seemed to catch on to her idea and soon the couple had abandoned their footwear and continued their stroll with the warm sand between their toes.

"It truly is quite… lovely here," Cullen ventured as they left the dry dunes and began to walk in the lazy surf, Isabeau refreshed by the feel of the cool ocean water cascading over the flesh of her feet and shins. She silently nodded her agreement as she reached down to pick up a piece of sea glass, its sheen and edges long dulled and frosted by the oceans virtue. She distractedly toyed with its soft contours as she then crouched in the surf, her eyes scanning, trying to discern where the ocean and the sky met. With a quiet aching, fond memories of days spent not unlike the afternoon she was currently having returned; tears threatening to well in her eyes as she recalled the solace she had always found with the peaceful shores before her now.

Cullen also bent to sift through the various collections of shells and stones that dotted their surroundings, Isabeau watching as his thumb and finger found and wrapped around a wide flat rock, testing its feel before curling his arm back to whip its release. She watched as it skipped an impressive amount of times atop the water's surface, a smile snuffing out the encroaching tears as she clapped softly in admiration.

"Well done. I was always rubbish at skipping stones," she ruefully confessed, standing to move away from the encroaching tide to sit further back on the dry sands. Cullen smirked in bashful response, another stone casually tossed up and caught in his hand before he, too, came to join her.

"It was something that took a lot of time. And patience," Cullen admitted as he sat down at Isabeau's side, resting his forearms atop his bent knees as he stared ahead, one hand coming to rub absently at the scruff of his chin and jaw. "Is this… where you came often, to be alone?"

"Too often hindsight would argue…" Isabeau sighed as she kept her gaze fixed on the gently frothing waters before them. "It's… painful to be without my father now and realize I regret all the times I chose the ocean's comfort over his; pointless, but it's there."

"I know the feeling all too well."

"Oh?"

Stretching one leg out as he leaned back, Cullen closed his eyes and nodded. "Back in Ferelden… I had a spot not entirely unlike this that I would retreat to when my siblings were… a bit too trying."

Shuffling to sit closer to her Knight, Isabeau wrapped an arm around Cullen's middle, tilting her neck to rest the side of her head upon his shoulder. "You've… never really spoken of them before, Cullen. I'm almost ashamed to confess I was harboring suspicions of you being an orphan."

"Having been a Templar… I understand why you may have fostered such suspicions." Cullen sighed before continuing hurriedly, "Not that I fault you, my lady. Forgive my habit. It has been… some time since I saw them last and I have gone a long while keeping my affairs, especially familial ones, private."

"I respect why, Cullen… Forgive my candor but curiosity is unfortunately getting the better of me," Isabeau admitted with a smile, feeling a rush of the excitement as the same feelings she had in the youth of their rapport returned with the new revelation, welcoming its blessed distraction from the darker thoughts that had harassed her of late.

"When did you leave your family? I'd imagine it would be difficult to be away from them…" she trailed off as she ruefully considered her own words. "Being away from home has been the norm for so long, the sting of my absence is not something I'm admittedly… managing well."

Cullen narrowed his eyes in concern, "You need more rest, Isabeau. You're no good dead on your feet; it clouds your judgement… and can only make matters worse."

Isabeau's retort flew from her lips before her brain caught it, "Is it me you are speaking to or yourself?"

He folded his arms across his chest as he leaned back, frowning at her light but honest impudence, "You know very well what I meant."

"I'm trying, Cullen…" Isabeau whispered in soft defeat, perking her eyebrows at their surroundings. "See? Trying."

The Commander teasingly scrutinized her before sniffing in satisfaction, "In… the interest of said endeavour and to answer your question; I was thirteen when I left for the Templar order. My parents were not surprised… I damn near harassed the village's Chantry."

"You always wanted to be a Templar?"

"Yes," Cullen's voice grew soft and distant. "There was a time when being a Templar was considered… noble. I admired them; I wanted to be them." The rock he had carried over from the surf suddenly flew from his hand with a flick of his wrist, a scowl marring his face.

Isabeau was well-versed with the sadly various causes for his disdain for the Order, but at the sign of Cullen's own melancholy surfacing, she leapt forward. "Help me with this exhausting curiosity of mine; tell me about home, about your family."

Cullen inhaled deeply through his nose as he closed his eyes, rolling his shoulders before continuing. "I may lack a… formal title, but to pre-emptively sate said curiosity… my family name is Rutherford. I grew up in a village called Honnleath in southwest Ferelden. It was not a… booming populace, but it was home," he patiently explained.

"I'm envious you had siblings… being an only child, unlike you, I truly don't think I can say I had a legitimate reason to need an escape such as this," Isabeau gestured towards the shore before them before pulling her head from Cullen's shoulder, instead gazing downwards as she distractedly picked at the skin of her nails. "There was always someplace to be alone in the Villa… I just felt more at peace down here."

"My family's dwellings may be… modest in comparison, but it was no different for me," Cullen offered, reaching to entwine his fingers with hers in what Isabeau knew was an effort to cease her anxious fidgeting. "I just… felt better down at the docks of the nearby lake. It was… quiet. I loved my siblings but they were very loud; they always found me eventually, however." Cullen smiled warmly at what Isabeau knew were his own fond memories, "I've… always wanted to return, to see it one last time…" his voice grew distant, his sentence trailing off into silence as Isabeau scrutinized the Knight's stoic features.

"We should go."

Cullen promptly nodded and moved to stand, "Yes, there are still numerous matters to put in order and I'm sure your mother would like it if-"

Isabeau tugged him back down and silenced Cullen with her lips, her hands reaching to run her fingers through his wavy curls, the Commander soon returning her affections in kind. When they breathlessly relinquished each other's lips, Isabeau smiled warmly and pressed her forehead to Cullen's, "I meant your lake, your village… your family."

His expression growing somewhat pained, Cullen shook his head in clear regret, "My family is no longer there, I'm afraid…" At Isabeau's concerned expression he hastily continued in explanation, "They moved to South Reach when all of this began. Between the Templars and the Inquisition… I haven't seen them in years."

"Do you write them often?"

Cullen chuckled softly, "Enough, though I'm sure my sister Mia would argue 'often' is too… generous a term. But yes, I do write them. They are safe and managing… and that's all that matters to me."

"I'm… pleased to hear that," Isabeau said softly, the two paramours falling into a relatively comfortable silence as they both stared out across the blue expanse. In her heart, Isabeau knew it unlikely the Inquisition's growing responsibilities would allot the pair precious time for a frivolous retreat to Fereldan on Cullen's behalf, the troubled woman finding yet another sorrow to compound her growing collection in that regret.

She took a steadying breath as she decided to put to words her own growing melancholy, "I would like to have met them, if only to bear witness to the unbridled candor only a sibling could exude." She rocked to the side and playfully bumped her shoulder into Cullen's before continuing, "There's… a lot I wish was able to do; to change. To… find greater succors such as this amongst the suffering and torment."

Cullen turned to frown at her concernedly, "Isabeau, are you… alright?"

With a sigh that seemed to come from her very core, Isabeau laid her back atop the warm sand, one arm coming to cushion the back of her head. "Honestly? I'm terrified. This… thing, on my hand," she paused as she raised her left hand over her face, scrutinizing it as if she could will the answers from the flesh itself, "… It frightens me as much as it humbles me, Cullen. Closing the rifts we have come across so far, garnering the people's faith in the process… I can appreciate those victories only as far as my fears and questions behind this gift will allow." Isabeau turned her head then to meet Cullen's uneasy gaze, her voice thick as she ventured on, "I ache for the answers in equal measure to my reluctance at finding them. Who did this to me… and if not who, then… is it just a part of being a… a Spirit?"

Something broke behind Cullen's eyes as he visibly softened and moved to encompass Isabeau tightly within his wide arms, Isabeau burying herself as closely against him as was physically possible. He gently glided his fingers through the pale strands of her loosely tied-back hair, his lips grazing her forehead as he spoke, "We do not know if that is true, Isabeau… but if there is anything I can do to hunt these answers for you, to share in this burden… I will commit to it with no hesitation; even if it is only to serve as a safe outlet for your grief. You must heed my advice now; do not keep this bottled inside you. I know all too well the festering ruin pervasive thoughts can breed."

The persistent anxieties that always sat bubbling at the surface caused Isabeau's throat to physically tighten; only subdued by the rush of affection for her Knight, several tears slipping from the corner of her eyes to cascade down her sun-kissed cheeks. She cupped the side of Cullen's neck firmly in her palm as his own hand came to carefully wipe at her wet cheeks, "The… last time I was there, at my lake… was just before my Templar training…" Cullen began at barely a whisper as his free hand moved to shimmy between them, reaching to pull something from one of the various pockets in his tunics.

Isabeau sat up as she arched her eyebrows in curiosity, watching as Cullen soon mirrored her as he held out his palm, a silver coin adorned with a face not unlike Andraste's glistening from the setting sun at his hand's center. "My brother gave me this. It just happened to be in his pocket but… he said it was for luck." The stoic man sniffed suddenly in derision, "Templars are not supposed to carry such things; our faith should be enough to see us through…"

Memories of Isabeau's intrusion of Cullen's personal nightmare returned with a force, her chest growing tight at the thought of the suffering he had endured at Kinloch Hold alone. "Knowing all that you have stomached… Forgive me, but I can't say I would call you fortunate. I am… ashamed to admit I doubt it worked," she confessed sadly, her disappointment in herself only stilled by Cullen's patient stare.

"Isabeau, I could have died in the Blight, or Kirkwall… even Andoral's Reach, take your pick." He looked down at the small and worn coin in his hand, his gaze distant as he breathed, "And yet… here I am, sunning on a pristine Hercinian beach next to a caliber of woman I never thought I would find to call my own," he then reached for Isabeau's hand, pressing the coin into her own palm as he smiled lovingly at her. "My superstition is perhaps silly… but you're right, we don't have any answers yet… and we don't know what's to come. This… can't hurt."

Her chest swelling with an all-encompassing devotion for her force's Marshall, Isabeau leaned forward to press her forehead to Cullen's, briefly squeezing his hand tightly in hers before she pushed it and the coin within back towards his chest. "No, you keep it. I couldn't bear it if this luck of yours ran out…"

The corners of Cullen's lips twitched into a small smile as he moved them closer to Isabeau's, "Nor do I. Not when it's clear… I finally have some."