So, this was an incredibly difficult chapter for me to write, as I was trying to decide exactly which direction I want to take with my Inquisitor's background, but I think I'm all squared away now. I wrote and rewrote this chapter at least four times! A big thank you to those of you reading, and to those of you who took the time to review, I really appreciate your support! Sorry for taking so long with the update!

Three weeks passed, and in those three weeks, the Herald of Andraste had not returned to Haven. Cullen had some idea of what it was she was accomplishing during this time, having read the reports that Leliana's messenger crows had brought to them, but he could not stop the gnawing worry in the pit of his stomach at the fact that she still had not returned to him.

His thoughts came to a jarring halt, and he scoffed at the ridiculous idea that had wormed its way into his head. Return to him? When the Herald returned, she would not be returning to him, she would be returning to the Inquisition.

He sighed, running a hand through his unusually disheveled hair as he studied her movements and the new tasks she had set for her advisors upon the vast map covering the war table. She seemed to have started her latest campaign at the Storm Coast, hiring the Iron Bull and his band of mercenaries shortly after arriving. The imposing Qunari and his Chargers had arrived at Haven two weeks ago with a missive addressed to Lady Montilyet from the Herald herself, pitching tents next to the empty stables before making themselves comfortable in the tavern shortly thereafter.

Lady Trevelyan, it seemed, had remained at the coast after the Chargers departed to assist Forward Scout Harding with locating some missing scouts, somehow recruiting the Blades of Hessarian to the Inquisition and closing a few more rifts in the process. Reports received after that showed the Herald leaving for the Hinterlands to follow up on Leliana's lead concerning the Gray Wardens. Half a week after her arrival in the Hinterlands, a Warden by the name of Blackwall had come wandering into Haven asking to speak with the Nightingale.

They had received no more news of the Herald until two days ago when Horse Master Dennet had arrived with his herd , ready to supply the Inquisition with the finest steeds Ferelden had to offer. The Lady Trevelyan had accomplished an incredible amount in three weeks time as far as Cullen was concerned, and he was beginning to wonder if she might be pushing herself a little too hard. He was of the opinion that, as it stood now, the Herald of Andraste had managed to accomplish more than any other member of the Inquisition, with the possible exception of Sister Leliana. Although, Leliana wasn't out in the field putting her neck on the line, as she had agents to do such things for her. The Herald did not have that luxury.

There was no one else, no possible substitute, cursed with a glowing mark on their hand that could traipse around Thedas closing the rifts in the sky. It was the Herald who was required to put herself in harm's way for the sake of the world, regardless of Cullen's feelings on the matter, not that he would ever actually voice such feelings. He wished desperately that she would return to Haven, even for a short while, so he could make certain that she was all right and put his troubled mind at ease.

As if the heaven's themselves were answering his prayer, the doors to the war room were flung wide open, the unexpected noise causing him to start. The Lady Trevelyan marched through them and into the room flanked by Leliana, Josephine and Cassandra. It appeared as though she had just returned to Haven as her dark leather armor was splattered with dried blood and gore, her face was smeared with dirt and her hair looked to be matted with blood and whatever grime she had come across in her travels. Cassandra did not look any better.

"Good, Commander, I was hoping you'd be here," she declared, her tone all business as she moved toward the war table. She seemed to notice the questioning look in his eyes at her unkempt appearance, but the Herald paid him no mind. "As I'm sure you all know, I've been in the Hinterlands securing aid from Horse Master Dennet. I decided that before I returned to Haven, I should acknowledge the invitation to Redcliffe I received from Grand Enchanter Fiona during my excursion to Val Royeaux. I arrived to discover that she's pledged herself and her mages to the service of a Tevinter Magister who has also managed to oust the Arl and taken over the whole of Redcliffe. And that's not even the interesting part," Trevelyan added sardonically. Cassandra was standing stiffly beside her looking even more grim-faced than was usual beneath her gore-laden armor.

Cullen could not imagine how the information the Herald was about to impart could manage to be any worse than what she had shared thus far. His eyes traveled to the faces of his fellow advisors. Shock colored Josephine's dark features, but Leliana remained distinctly unruffled, her blue eyes devoid of anything that would betray thoughts or emotions. He wondered vaguely if this was news at all to the seemingly omniscient spymaster.

The room was silent as the Herald of Andraste seemed to gather her thoughts. Cullen watched the shadows the flickering candlelight cast across her grimy face. Even beneath the layer of filth, she was lovely. But it was not the time for such thoughts. He needed to focus on the words that were flowing from her mouth, not the way her lips moved as she said them.

"We met with this Magister, Alexius, he called himself. I attempted to negotiate with him for the mages' assistance in closing the breach, but before we could finish our conversation, his son seemed to take ill, stumbling into me and passing on a note in the process. This note simply read, 'Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.'"

"A trap?" Cullen grunted in askance, his eyes suddenly roaming Lady Trevelyan's body for signs of obvious injury. He found none to his alarmingly overwhelming relief.

"It occurred to me that it was a possibility, but no, I don't believe it was. We entered the Chantry, found and closed a rift," she replied, gesturing toward her bloodied attire, "and met another Tevinter mage at the Chantry, Dorian Pavus, a former student of Alexius. He claimed that the Magister was using magic to distort the flow of time."

"Maker's breath, is that even possible?" the Commander demanded in disbelief. He had never been one to underestimate magic, but this just seemed too fantastical.

"To what purpose?" inquired Leliana ignoring Cullen's shocked reaction. Her face was still impassive as she regarded the Herald's words.

"According to Master Pavus, he wished to indenture the rebel mages before I had the opportunity to offer them an alliance."

"This mage could be lying," interjected Leliana. "Did he offer any proof of his claims?"

"Yes, we thought of that, too," the Seeker answered. There was hint of annoyance in her Nevarran accent, almost as though she was begrudging of the evidence that had been offered. "However, the rifts near Redcliffe were different than those we have encountered before."

"The rifts did seem to manipulate time in the ways Master Pavus had described, however this magic and whether or not it is possible is irrelevant," Brynn declared, as though impatient to continue on. "The Magister's son arrived at the Chantry shortly thereafter. He told us his father has joined a cult of Tevinter supremacists better known as the Venatori who, it would seem, have a rather unhealthy interest in me," she added with a droll smirk. Cullen's hands tightened unconsciously into fists at his side. He did not like the sounds of these cultists nor the threat they might pose to the Lady Trevelyan.

"Which leads us to believe they may be connected with the breach, and whoever killed the Divine," Cassandra said. There was a hard edge to her words as she glared around the room.

"Naturally," the spymaster agreed with a nod of her head.

"Alexius has extended an invitation to me. He would like for me return to Castle Redcliffe, alone, to further discuss our negotiations concerning mage assistance with closing the breach. It is, of course, a trap," Brynn continued, almost sounding bored. Cullen found himself slightly irritated at her blase attitude toward such an obvious attempt on her life.

"I think we ought to go the Templars. These Venatori are Tevinter. It's likely that mages fill their ranks, and I doubt they've any experience with the Templar's abilities. We could catch them unaware and neutralize the threat they pose," Cullen offered his opinion freely. When he finished speaking, he fixed his gaze upon the Herald, watching closely for any sign that she agreed with his opinion.

"Commander, their ranks have just been swelled by the conscription of the rebel mages, who have plenty of experience fighting against the Templars. If the Templars were truly capable of managing this threat, the mage rebellion would have been put down as soon as it started," Leliana countered forcefully. "If we do not assist the mages, they will be used against us. Can the same be said of the Templars?"

"I am inclined to agree with Leliana," Josephine declared, her dark eyes lingering upon the Herald. She seemed to shift as far away from Cullen as possible without actually moving as she spoke. "Lady Trevelyan, what do you think?"

Four pairs of eyes now fell upon the Herald of Andraste. Her eyes flicked from one pair to the next, and Cullen suddenly recalled the conversation they had shared in the war room a few weeks ago. He sincerely hoped that he was not adding to the pressure that she felt. He was only suggesting what he thought was best.

"Of course. It all comes down to me," she muttered almost inaudibly. Then, in a much stronger voice, she said, "I think I need to get cleaned up and have a proper night's rest before making any such decisions. We will reconvene in the morning. I will have made my decision by then."

Something behind her eyes had looked defeated for the briefest of moments, but he was certain he had not imagined it. The Commander watched her closely as she strode out of the room. Something told him there was more weighing on her mind than the pressing issue at hand. He wanted to follow her, to ask her if she was alright, but Cassandra was now addressing the war council, filling in the gaps left by the Herald's concise explanation of the events at Redcliffe. The Seeker would surely have his head if he left right as she began speaking.

x.X.x

Brynn stared up at the ceiling of her hut, eyes straining in the darkness as she tried to count each strand of straw woven into the thatched roof. Sleep would not come, no matter how hard she willed it. Her mind was keeping her wide awake as she dwelled upon the choice she was going to have to make.

The source of her anxiety, however, was not the decision itself. She had already made her mind up in Redcliffe. It was the disappointment and possible resentment she would see etched upon the Commander's chiseled features when she told him that she planned to pursue assistance from the mages that kept her from her rest.

Allying with the mages made perfect sense to her. The mages were in a much better position to damage the Inquisition than the Templars if not released from the confines of the Grand Enchanter's foolish arrangement. Plus, investigating these Venatori was their best chance of discerning who had murdered the Divine and set a giant hole in the fade above the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

Still, she understood the Commander's reluctance. He had been a Templar for most of his life. The mistrust of magic and those who could wield it was heavily indoctrinated into the Order's training of its members. While Cullen was much more tolerant than many Templars she had met in the past, those things he learned to believe during his time in the Order would not change overnight, just because he no longer donned Templar armor.

A soft tapping on her door roused her from her thoughts. Brynn drew a sharp breath at the sound. She was curious who was at her door so near to midnight, but she was also a bit wary. Rising quietly from her bed, the rogue moved to the closed door as silently as was possible.

"Who's there?" she called out sharply from behind the door.

"It's Cullen, my Lady. I apologize for calling so late. I..I'm sorry, I'm bothering you, aren't I? I'll just..," he trailed off as she pulled the door open suddenly. Brynn could feel her blood seem to race through her veins as he stared at her wide-eyed. He was still clad in the usual amount of plate, suggesting that he had not even considered retiring for the evening, despite the lateness of the hour.

Brynn stood puzzled in the doorway, shivering slightly in her flimsy night dress, gooseflesh creeping up her arms as the bitingly cold night air invaded the sleepy warmth of her hut. She could feel Cullen's roving eyes examining her figure beneath the gauzy garb and flushed slightly beneath his scrutiny. He seemed to realize the indecency of his perusal and drew an arm up behind him as he rubbed at the back of his neck, his gaze now directed somewhere around his feet.

"Is there something you need, Commander?" Brynn inquired after a moment's awkward silence. She stilled her chattering teeth as best she could as she spoke. Try as she might, Brynn could not seem to work out any reason for the Commander to be calling at her door so late at night. If it was an emergency, there would surely be more urgency in his manner.

"I...I just wanted to...In...In the Chantry, you seemed…," he stuttered, stumbling awkwardly over his words. "Maker! I should have just left you to your rest," he huffed half to himself in flustered exasperation.

"I'm afraid there was no rest to be had, Commander," she offered, giving him a wry smile that she wasn't sure he could make out in the dark.

"Then we find ourselves in similar situations."

"How do you know that sleep will prove elusive if you do not even give it the chance to evade you?" Brynn teased, with a small smirk. An icy breeze blew through the entryway, rustling her nightdress around her legs and causing her to shudder slightly as it assaulted her bare calves and feet. "Or do you make a habit of sleeping in your armor?"

"Ah, yes," he capitulated with a rueful grin. "I admit, I have not even made an attempt at rest tonight. But you are shivering, my Lady. I should let you return to the warmth of your bed."

"If that is what you wish, Commander. But if you find you'd rather spend more time conversing, you could come in, and I will stoke the fire."

"That would be improper so late in the evening," he exclaimed, sounding almost scandalized by her suggestion. Brynn had to stop herself from laughing aloud at his tone.

"Oh, yet it is proper to call on a lady at this hour?"

"I...suppose not."

"Propriety be damned, Cullen. It's apparent you have something you would like to discuss, and I would not mind the company. Unless there is more on your mind than simple conversation," she added suggestively, pressing her lips together in a sultry smirk. He was such an easy mark that it was impossible for Brynn to stop herself teasing him. "That could be indecent."

"What!? I...Of course not! I hope you do not truly think so poorly of me!" he spluttered, indignation clear in his voice. Brynn gave a tinkling laugh at his incredulous reaction. She found his shy, almost naive nature both amusing and appealing.

"It was a joke, Commander, not an impugnment against your unwavering honor. I apologize if I gave offense," she remarked serenely, retreating from her doorway backward into her hut. "Please come in, if you are still of a mind to converse."

Brynn watched as he hesitated briefly before stepping through the doorway and pulling the door closed behind him. She made her way through the dark to the cluttered desk pushed against the wall opposite her bed and fumbled for the tinderbox she had set upon it, moving to the fireplace once she had it grasped firmly within her hand. It wasn't long before the room was bathed in an orange glow.

"Sit anywhere you like," Brynn offered with gesture toward the two chairs in the room as she perched upon her bed, tucking her legs beneath her neatly. He chose the chair tucked under the desk, across the room from her, and she found she wasn't surprised that he did not choose the seat next to her bed. His amber gaze fell upon her once he was seated. The expression held within them set her pulse racing.

"You were away from Haven for nearly a month," he murmured. Brynn wondered if the note of longing she had detected behind his Fereldan accent was real or just her hopeful imagination. She had thought of him often, even missed him, during her travels. He looked away from her and toward the flames licking at the blackened stone of the sooty fireplace. "Are you faring better than you were during our last...discussion? I hope you are not pushing yourself too hard."

"I am fine, Commander," she replied, giving him a small, shy smile. "I promise I don't need any looking after. Though I must admit, your concern is...rather nice. This is the first time anyone has inquired after my well-being since before I ran away from home."

"You never told me you were a runaway," Cullen remarked with genuine interest. She gave him a wistful smile.

"Yes well, we had a bit of a disagreement before I got to that part, didn't we?"

He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement as he laughed. "Yes, so we did. How old were you when you left home?"

"I was fifteen."

She spoke the words so softly that they were almost inaudible. Cullen's eyebrows rose in surprise, the worry lines etched into his forehead becoming more defined at the action. It was a reaction that Brynn expected. After all, there were not many people who could ever understand why a spoiled little girl born into a well-to-do family would willingly run away from a life of luxury. However, she did have her reasons, even if she felt absolutely no inclination to share them with anyone.

"That seems rather...young," he stated after a brief pause. He was staring at her as though she was a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. Brynn felt slightly discomfited by his silent examination and fixed her gaze upon his almost defiantly.

"That's a rather hypocritical statement coming from someone who left home to join the Templar Order at the tender age of thirteen," she retorted coolly.

"Yes, well it's different joining the Order than it is striking out on your own. All my needs were tended to as a Templar. The Order fed, clothed and trained me. It wasn't as though I was left to my own devices to get by."

"I guess that's true," she ceded. He did make a fair point.

"So how did you...get by?"

"Luck, mostly. I was a fair hand at picking locks from a young age, always into something I ought not to have bothered. I stole as often as I could without being caught. I worked to earn money in whatever ways I could, plenty of which I do not remember fondly, as I made my way to Orlais," she remarked vaguely, her eyes downcast as she recalled some of her less appealing jobs. "When I ran away, the first place I went was Kirkwall. I spent a year there, working mostly as a serving wench under an assumed name in taverns to save enough money to secure safe passage to Nevarra."

"You were in Kirkwall around the same time I was assigned to Gallows, then?" he asked, looking at her expectantly. She nodded in reply, a lump in her throat as she recalled the time she spent in that reviled place. She had not enjoyed her time in Kirkwall and had been very glad to leave it. When she gave no further reply, he continued, "I was not one to frequent Kirkwall's taverns, but I am familiar with them. Where did you find employment?"

Brynn could feel her cheeks flush a delicate shade pink at this question, and she could see the dawning comprehension in his eyes as he watched her face redden. The Blooming Rose was not an establishment at which she would openly claim past employment to anyone, though Cullen seemed to surmise the truth well enough on his own. Although she had only been a serving girl, there were times when Madame Lusine had charged her with entertaining customers waiting on an occupied companion, and she had made extra coin allowing hands in places she would normally have reserved for someone with whom she was more involved.

"I...I see...You were but a child...You didn't...You only served drinks, right? There were no other...expectations?" he stammered, the muscles of his jaw twitching and spasming as he clenched his teeth together tightly. His face was a brilliant shade of scarlet now, and he looked incredibly perturbed by her silent admission.

"No! Of course not! I was only fifteen!"

"Did you not have any idea how dangerous it was for a pretty, young girl to work in an establishment such as that?" he demanded, his tone somewhere between incredulity and ire. Was he really intending on chastising her for choices she made when she was fifteen? "The men who frequent such places are…"

"There were plenty of Templars that frequented The Rose, if I recall correctly. Anyway, it does not matter where you go, there will always be such men who pose a threat to," she paused, putting a teasing inflection, "pretty girls such as myself. It was a lesson I was reminded of many times throughout my travels."

Cullen cleared his throat uncomfortably before muttering, "I suppose you're right. So, you never told me, why were you running to Orlais?"

"I was looking for someone," came her simple reply. He gave her a questioning look, but Brynn was unsure how exactly to explain without telling him more than she truly wished to tell. Instead, she shrugged. "I didn't find him. I fell in with a band mercenaries instead."

"Mercenaries?"

"Yes, mercenaries," she repeated, succinctly. There was no more she wanted to say on the subject. "I wonder, Commander, did you come calling at my door so late in the eve to interrogate me about my youth, or was there something else on your mind?"

"Ah, yes, actually, there was something I had a mind to speak to you about."

Brynn observed him silently as his posture changed, became more rigid. His mouth was set in a straight, impassive line. She wasn't surprised by the realization that Cullen had not sought her presence for the simple pleasure of her company, though it still stung slightly. The matter at hand was important to him, after all.

"You are wondering if I intend to liberate the mages from the Tevinter or seek aid from the Templars," she remarked indifferently. If he was surprised by her perspicacity, it did not register upon his features.

"Yes. Do you know what you intend to do?"

It seemed he would force her into disappointing him much earlier than she had intended, but she supposed it did not matter now. She ignored the feelings of guilt bubbling somewhere in the pit of her stomach. She was making the right decision for the Inquisition. It was not her fault if Cullen could not see past his own personal biases.

"I...Yes...But you will not like my answer," she replied after a very pregnant pause. There was a flicker of something behind his eyes, though Brynn could not be entirely certain what it was. Disappointment? Frustration? Anger?

"You intend to side with the mages."

It wasn't a question.

"I do."

"Is there anything I can say that would convince you to further consider seeking aid from the Templars?"

"I'm sorry, Cullen, but I don't believe there is."

"I see," he murmured. An awkward silence hung in the air for a few minutes. After what seemed like an eternity to Brynn, he stood, his armor clanking softly as it shifted. "Then I require no more of your time."

She watched him go, the guilt she had been suppressing now overwhelming her. She tried telling herself that it didn't matter if he agreed or disagreed with her as long as she was making the right choice for the Inquisition. Eventually he would be able to see that she was only doing what she thought was best, but she couldn't help wondering just how long eventually might be.