Disclaimer: I don't own DA

Dewy grass glistened in the first rays of a morning sun. The air was chilly and smelled of water and nearby forest. Mist hung above the meadow all around the camp, beautiful and mysterious. Birds just began singing their tunes high up in trees, their voices piercing the slumberous silence, a reveille to the world around.

Anastasia smiled to herself as she left her tent. The canvas was damp against her skin, hinting a drizzle falling sometime during the night. She shivered lightly when the cool air caressed her skin even through her clothes, but it didn't wipe the smile from her face.

"Good morning, inquisitor," a quiet mumble startled her as a patrol neared her. A pair of guardsmen nodded to her, passing her by and disappearing between tents, while she mumbled a reply. The address felt queer to her no matter how often she heard it. And she was hearing it more and more often as of late.

The deeper the gossip about her unearthly abilities seeped into the Inquisition, the more respect she suddenly had. They recognized her for the one capable of dealing with the situation instead of the mage following Inquisition troops. It still made her feel insecure when they called her that, knowing she was acknowledged for something she didn't even know how she learned.

Her arms went around her body, protecting herself from the cold, as she headed away from her tent. Grass rustled under her feet, her robes darkening as the dew soaked the fabric brushing the ground

They were utterly quiet until she stepped into their view. Her horse tossed her head, her mane flying about, as she greeted her rider. She whinnied softly and Anastasia hurried to her, mumbling soothing noises as she caressed her nostrils. Latica watched with big eyes, raking the ground with her hooves impatiently, obviously eager to get underway again.

"Come now, girl, we'll set off soon enough," Anastasia mumbled, stroking the side of her neck. "But you must promise not to throw me from the saddle again. My side still hurts from the last time," she added with a smile. "I will steal an apple for you from the kitchens if you're nice to me today."

"I don't think it was mostly the horse's fault you fell yesterday," a voice spoke up behind her.

She didn't turn around, just kept on petting Latica in slow, deliberate motion. However, she made a face, crossing her eyes at Latica and sticking her tongue out. Then she looked at the large stallion next to her mare. He stood unmoving, watching his rider getting close quietly and patiently. He snorted only when Cullen approached him, touching him between his eyes and sliding his hand up between his ears.

"Good morning to you, too," Anastasia replied, feigning cold indifference. She could see him watching her from the corner of her eye, but something in her didn't let her meet his gaze.

"Why are you up so early?" he asked.

She shrugged, dropping her hand from the horse. "I woke up and felt rested enough. And I like the quiet out here. It's a different kind of quiet before the sun fully rises," she added with a smile.

"That's something I don't understand," Cullen admitted, his hand still absentmindedly petting Shemeeck's head. "You're up all night, but I don't remember ever seeing you tired in the morning."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Don't you feel fresh?"

"I do," he replied slowly, locking his eyes with hers. He wrinkled his forehead thoughtfully. "I see," he mumbled, turning his attention to his warhorse again. "Incidentally, that was...an incredible night. Thank you."

She giggled and he sent a quizzical expression her way. "I'm sorry," she mumbled and chuckled again. "I know people can never see what the Fade looks like usually, but I just remembered your face whenever you saw something...anything," she shrugged. "I spent third of my life in the land of dreams and what you saw, what we did last night was completely ordinary. I mean, nothing incredible about it from my point of view."

"You turning into a dead spirit, doors appearing out of nowhere, talking to see-through creatures," he paused, blinking as if still couldn't grasp the mere notion of what he was about to say, "things appearing solely because you believed they existed." He shook his head. "If this isn't incredible, nothing else is."

Anastasia smiled, but didn't reply. There were things she considered incredible herself, like the two of them talking peacefully. She had never imagined she could just walk up to a templar and have a civil talk before. She had spent years fearing them. Each time she could feel their eyes on her, she felt terrified and wanted to be invisible or someplace else. Having an attention of a templar usually meant you were doing something you shouldn't, and even if you weren't, it was just better not to stand out. Anastasia had learned to understand this quickly.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, watching the mysterious smile playing on her lips.

It grew broader. "Isn't this a rather personal question? I'm not sure we're that familiar with each other."

Cullen shrugged, looking all innocent when he replied calmly: "Well, we did just spend a night together."

Anastasia lifted her eyebrows at that, giving him a curious look. "Why, yes. We did," she drawled, narrowing her eyes at him. "That only makes me wonder where you'd fit Solas into our night."

"Solas?" Cullen frowned. "Solas who?"

She chuckled and cuffed his shoulder playfully. She noticed he was wearing the same breeches like in the Fade, and had little doubts that the surcoat he'd put on hid the same linen shirt as well. Did he hear her responding to the patrol and follow her so quickly he hadn't had a chance to change? Why would he do that?

"Am I interrupting something?" a stern voice asked slowly, coming from the tents. The two of them glanced her way as Cassandra emerged from behind the closest canvas. She'd already donned her black armour with the white eye of the Inquisition emblazoned on its breastplate. She even carried her sword, but her step was light and she didn't look as wary as she was on the road.

She didn't wait for an answer as she went on. "I'm glad to see you awake so soon, Cullen. I'd like to get to Skyhold before nightfall so I suggest packing the camp and setting off within an hour."

"Why hurry so much?" Anastasia asked.

Cassandra looked surprised. "Have you forgotten? We should be heading to Val Royeaux next and it's not a short journey*," she replied and then turned her brown eyes to Cullen again. "I want us to leave Skyhold on the morrow."

Anastasia dropped her eyes and turned her back to the warrior, reaching out to interweave her fingers through Latica's mane again. She knew Cassandra couldn't drag the whole Inquisition to the masquerade, but still felt sad for being left behind. Cassandra had decided to take only one mage and the choice was pretty obvious.

Solas was an elf. This in itself was enough to eliminate him as a prospective candidate. Orlais had even more scornful approach to elves than the rest of Thedas and while he could be, of course, admitted to such an occasion as a member of the Inquisition, it would cause unwanted commotion among the nobility.

Dorian was...well, he wasn't a bad choice. He knew his way around people, could be charming one minute and acid the next if necessary, but he was from the Tevinter Imperium. As a mage he was used to be the superior one, and it was his cocky demeanour that had Cassandra worried.

Anastasia was out of question as well. Albeit a noble, her family didn't hold any prestige in Orlais to impress local aristocracy enough to condone her awkward people skills. She was a stranger to this nation and an unimportant as well.

Plainly, Vivienne was the best candidate. She knew Orlais, its customs and etiquette. She rose high enough in the society and most importantly – she was familiar with the Game. And Anastasia didn't doubt she could also play it adeptly.

It wasn't like Anastasia wanted to have a dance at one of the Orlesian luxurious balls so badly. She wasn't even sure if she remembered all the dance steps. No. She would be happy enough to get to Val Royeaux and be free to roam the city and admire it. Visiting as grand a city as the Orlesian capital was her dream come true.

"I'll issue orders to my men immediately," Cullen replied, bobbing his head.

"Thank you," Cassandra replied and Anastasia could hear a soft smile in her voice. She wasn't as tough and rough as she liked to pretend so much. It only took some effort to see the sensitive, kind woman behind all the armour, but it was worth the endeavour.

Anastasia listened to her steps as she headed back to the camp and eyed Cullen when he sighed. He patted Shemeeck's neck one final time as a goodbye. But he didn't walk away, his eyes fixed on Anastasia's profile.

She smiled when she realized he was watching her. It was a brave expression of which the only purpose was to mask the sadness he'd glimpsed. "Maybe I'll get better with the spear before you'll be back. I guess I'll have plenty of time to spar at Skyhold. Garret's turned real strict on me."

"I...recommend him to be less lenient with you," Cullen admitted quietly. His mind was already working on the excuse. He could say that he saw her feeble efforts and, worried for her safety, wanted her to work harder and thus asked Garret to make sure she did. At least that was what he had kept repeating inwardly when he had headed to the armoury after Leliana's innocent observation.

"I figured that much," Anastasia responded after a short pause while he hesitated. She still refused to meet his eyes, watching her mare instead. "Maybe it's deserved. I need more practice. I'm clumsy," she shrugged and bent her head to look at her free hand, the other still curled in Latica's mane. "Good thing I'm a mage, I guess. I don't think I could make a living if I had to work manually," she whispered with a ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

Cullen's eyes dropped to her hand as well and he noticed they weren't as soft-looking as they felt in his hand back in the Fade. Calluses from holding the spear tightly adorned her palm and weeks on the road took their toll as well, her skin cracked at her knuckles.

Just like with the robes, the Fade showed her like she somehow commanded it to make her look like. Spending her childhood as nobility and then sheltered in the Tower of Magi, she wasn't probably used to this kind of life. But only now Cullen realized just how much she had to hate it as well and miss how things used to be before.

Without thinking, Cullen reached out and captured the hand she studied in his. Within a heartbeat, just as his eyes met hers, he silently admitted there was a different reason behind her calloused hands, one utterly and completely selfish that he dreaded to admit even to himself. Her brown orbs widened when his lips kissed her knuckles, his warm breath tickling her skin for a moment both ephemeral and eternal.

That she had stopped breathing she realized only after he disappeared between the tents like Cassandra had. She let all the air out of her lungs slowly, listening to his voice barking orders left and right.

* I know it was said the masquerade would take place in Halamshiral (presumably?) instead of Val Royeaux, but since I mentioned the capital in chapter 4, I'll stick to it even though it's not correct. Headcanon O:-)

Anyway, thank you all for reading, hope you liked it!