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This work has not been proofread or edited by anyone other than myself. I acknowledge and apologize for any errors still present

Cullen wasn't entirely certain if it was fire or ice burning through his gullet as he stormed out of the garden. His boots thundered against the hard packed earth and clunked heavily against the ancient stone as he let his legs carry himself elsewhere. He had no immediate direction in mind, as all his thoughts were funneled into one central, screaming idea: her marriage has been arranged. Any other functions his brain was capable of were focused directly on the overwhelming need he had to just get out.

He'd hoped…that is to say he wanted….

Maker, he couldn't even voice his own thoughts properly. His emotions spun around like a child's top. In the span of a few moments, he felt himself grow angry (who in Andraste's name still arranged marriages?), to forlorn (if only there had been more time!) and beyond into desperation (there must be something to be done about this) as well as every other emotion in between. It was as if he couldn't settle on a single solitary state of being. Belatedly, he realized that he'd accidentally carried a pawn off the chessboard. He gripped it in his hand and growled before throwing it childishly off into the valley below Skyhold. As the small wooden piece left his hand and arced through the air, Cullen felt immediate regret. Chessboards and other leisurely activities were few and far between in Skyhold, and the residents of the mighty hold deserved whatever fun they could find. There was no need to make the entire Inquisition suffer because his heart had been….

No, he couldn't go there, not yet. Maybe not ever, now that she was to be with another.

Those were thoughts for another moment, for a time when he was alone in his room and away from the prying eyes of his soldiers and the rest of the Inquisition. When he could rack his armor, figuratively and literally, and be Cullen rather than the Commander. Instead, he gave himself a new direction, a purpose; an activity that would distract his thoughts from veering sharply to the left again.

It was a short jaunt down to the makeshift marketplace. Cullen allowed himself to become enveloped in the sights and sounds of Skyhold's daily activities. He could hear the clanging of Cassandra's sword as it collided against the practice dummy. The distant sound of Bull's raucous laughter over the delicate lilt of Maryden's voice drifted down to his ears from an open window in the tavern. Dozens of people were milling about the courtyard and normally, Cullen would be able to catch some snippets of conversation as he passed. Yet, as passed by all conversations stopped and he felt what seemed like hundreds of eyes upon his body as he made his way across the open area. Cullen kept his spine steel straight and his hands tightly clenched at his sides as he approached the market stall. He opened his mouth to speak to the masked Orlesian woman, but as he was about to voice his request for a replacement chess set, a familiar voice cut him off.

"I need a bottle of ink," the Inquisitor called to merchant. Cullen instinctively turned towards the voice and caught Trevelyan's gaze. Her eyes widened sharply as she exclaimed, "oh! Commander, hello."

"Inquisitor," Cullen answered, suddenly realizing that he was unable to maintain eye contact with her. "Hello."

"You were here before me. Please forgive my rudeness."

"No, I was only going to inquire after a replacement chess set."

"Replacement?"

"Yes I, ah, have misplaced one of the pawns."

"Oh."

"You need ink?"

She blinked, "ah, yes. I have been writing a number of letters of late, it didn't seem appropriate to spend Inquisition funds on my personal correspondence."

Heavy silence fell between them. The air itself felt as if it were pushing down upon his shoulders. He tried to look nonchalant, as if his mind wasn't racing with thousands of questions. As if every thought in his mind at that moment didn't somehow lead back to her. Above all, he tried not to stare as those two small teeth appeared, pressing into the flesh of her bottom lip.

At last, he forced himself to say, "I understand congratulations are in order."

"How did you-?" she began, turning sharply towards him. After a second, she sighed, "Leliana."

Cullen nodded, not trusting his voice.

"It's not…I mean, nothing is final yet. It's still my choice, I suppose in the end. He's coming to Skyhold within the fortnight, so we an meet and I guess…see what happens."

"Oh, that's good then." One of her eyebrows shot up questioningly as he realized what he'd said. "I mean, not that it's good that you may not be getting married. It's good that you will be able to say no. I-if you wanted to, that is."

He watched as her gaze veered sharply to the side. Following her, he glanced over his shoulder and saw nearly every pair of eyes in the courtyard was watching them closely, including Sera, Blackwall and Dorian. Sera and Blackwall stood together by the stables, with Sera making a rude gesture with her fingers while making kissing noises. Blackwall, to his credit, was at least making an attempt to not laugh. He could see Dorian standing next to another market stand, smirk planted square on his face.

"Maker's breath," Cullen muttered, feeling his cheeks growing ever warmer.

Trevelyan sighed before tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I'll just make due with what I have left. Please excuse me, Commander."

She spared him little more than a parting glance before she turned and briskly walked away from the courtyard. Cullen stared after her, watching her disappear up the side stairs by the stables and into the kitchens.

"Ah, la splendeur des coeurs perdus," the Orlesian merchant sighed wistfully, pulling Trevelyan from her thoughts.

"Pardon?"

"You and the Inquisitor, Commander. You, the handsome Commander in love with a woman who can never be his and she, the woman married to a man she does not love. A doomed romance of star-crossed lovers, ah c'est magnifique."

He fixed her with a glare he normally reserved for his soldiers.

"Don't be ridiculous."

. . .

The sounds of traveling had always soothed Sebastian. The rickety, clacking wheels of carriages as they clattered against rocks and cobblestones lulled him into a state of relaxation he'd always associated with his childhood. He'd spent years traveling with his family, riding in the royal carriage perched on his mother's lap until he became too big and was relegated to seat of his own. There was even a certain enjoyment in the sensation of the carriage swaying as it moved across Thedas, despite his older brother complaining that motion made him feel ill.

Even as an adult, Perhaps it was the enjoyment of such sensations that had kept him from succumbing to what his Orlesian manservant had called 'the mal de mer' during the voyage from Kirkwall to Jader. Yet, despite his journey being smooth and hassle-free, the chantry brother's heart was uneasy. He wasn't a fool. He knew that his invitation to meet the Inquisitor had come via Ostwick, as opposed to Skyhold. The Inquisition was known for its use of ebon-black ravens in its correspondence. It was a little touch of the dramatic on behalf of the spymaster, one of the last telltale signs of her life before as the Nightingale. The bird that arrived with his invitation looked remarkably similar to the hawk the Inquisitor's parents had been sending and yet, he hadn't received a letter asking him to cancel or delay his journey. In fact, he'd heard nothing out of Skyhold in the entire time that he'd been discussing the terms of his potential marriage to the Trevelyan's youngest child. That wasn't entirely odd, as the potential partner was rarely ever involved in the planning of such events. For the Bride to be a woman of such standing as the Inquisitor, however, was most unusual. Even more so that she didn't seem to even be aware of impending nuptials. Sebastian's only hope was that he would not arrive at Skyhold to a completely oblivious Inquisitor. He prayed to the Maker that her mother had at least informed her of their arrangement.

Of course, such arrangements were only valid if the Inquisitor agreed to them. He wouldn't dream of forcing marriage on to a woman, let alone one so powerful as the Herald herself.

The carriage came to a stop, the sudden motion jarring Sebastian from his reverie. He leaned forward, hand instinctively reaching for the bow across his lap as he looked outside to see where they had stopped.

"Prince Sebastian," the voice of the driver drifted down to him. "We have gone as far as we can. Your must complete the journey on horseback."

"On horseback?"

"Aye, your highness, the path to Skyhold is too treacherous for the carriage to traverse."

"Understood, thank you for your service."

Sebastian hitched the Starkhaven Longbow on to his shoulder as he clambered out of the carriage. The sudden cold breeze of mountain air hit his face, whipping his hair about his eyes and left his lungs burning. He stepped out of the way to let his manservant climb out after him and couldn't stop the wry chuckle from escaping him as he heard the man curse behind him.

"Merde!" As Sebastian turned to smirk at the man, the servant blushed to the roots of his blonde hair. "Oh, apologies your highness."

Still chuckling, Sebastian looked around to get his bearings. The carriage stopped at a base camp a small ways up the Frostbacks. He craned his neck upwards, but couldn't see a single stone or sign of Skyhold. He could remember hearing the news that the fledgling Inquisition had survived the Elder One's assault on Haven and had escaped to a hidden fortress in the mountains. Standing at the foothills, he could easily see how the Inquisition had remained hidden long enough to heal and grow. To his left and down a gentle slope, Sebastian could see the camps dotting the landscape around them. On his right was a path that looked as if it had once belonged to goats, rather than a force as mighty as the Inquisition. At its mouth, he could see a dwarf clad in Inquisition armor talking and pointing to the penitents that slowly streamed in to the trailhead. For the most part, it appeared that they were being turned away from the path.

"If you're here to join the Inquisition head to the camps and talk to Captain Declan for your orders. If you're here on pilgrimage, go to the camps and ask for Sister Sascha," the dwarf repeated tiredly as Sebastian approached him.

"I'm Sebastian Vael, I have business with the Inquisitor."

The dwarf's eyes widened as he let his eyes rake over Sebastian's form. "Oh, so you're him." Before Sebastian could question exactly what that meant, the dwarf continued, "well, handsome, you've just cost me a sov'. Path should be clear, you can take your horses up whenever you're ready."

Sebastian glanced to the path, then back to the dwarf. "How does the Inquisitor traverse the path?"

The dwarf blinked. "What?"

"How does the Inquisitor travel this path? Does she go on foot or horse?"

"On foot," the dwarf answered, bemused.

"Then we'll go on foot ourselves."

A light breeze of mountain air blew in through the Inquisitor's open balcony doors, ruffling her hair and caressing her skin with its feather-light touch. Trevelyan breathed in deeply, savoring the cool freshness of the mountain air. The breeze distracted her, the sensations over her skin pulling her away from the mind-numbing boredom that was political correspondence. If she was honest with herself, there were times when she'd bitterly stare at the stack of letters she had to write and wonder how in the Maker's name she'd been the one to be saddled with such a burden. She was the youngest, the forgotten one. The child whom was not expected to amount to anything beyond securing her parents a prestigious alliance with marriage. Trevelyan sighed, set down her quill and stretched. Her muscles screamed at her; her back ached from sitting in the chair at her desk and her fingers throbbed from holding the quill for too long.

A sharp knock on her door startled her, temporarily causing the pain to retreat back into her body and lie in wait until the next quiet moment to make itself known. She called for the person to enter, rising from her seat so as to not be rude. One of Leliana's people slowly ascended the staircase up to the Inquisitor's rooms, looking around himself carefully, as if he was trying to commit each detail to memory. Trevelyan cleared her throat, and the boy jumped a little.

"Yes, can I help you?"

"Your worship, Sister Leliana wishes me to tell you that she's just received word from the camps. The Prince's carriage arrived and he's making the trek up the mountain."

Trevelyan blanched. Maker, he was early. "Has Ambassador Montilyet been informed?"

"Yes, your worship"

Trevelyan nodded, pulling her gaze away from the messenger. She went 'round her desk, grabbing the finished correspondence that needed to go out. If he was to return to Leliana, it'd save her a trip and give her time to prepare herself before her potential beloved arrived.

"Thank you. Are you going back to Leliana?"

"Not yet, your worship. I have orders to inform Commander Cullen of the Prince's arrival as well."

Her grip went suddenly slack and her papers fell like snow to the floor. Cursing under her breath, she fell to her knees and tried to gather up the pieces of parchment. She knew her cheeks were red, but kept her jaw clenched as she righted herself. The messenger smiled meekly at her and offered to take her pages and send them off when he went back to Leliana after speaking to Cullen. Not trusting her voice, she nodded and stiffly shoved the papers into his hands. When he disappeared down the stairs, at long last Trevelyan let herself loosen and she slumped against the edge of desk, groaning softly. Her hands cupped her cheeks, as she huffed and let herself breathe for a moment before smoothing down her hair and clothes. Straightening, she pushed away from the desk and held her spine iron straight as she readied herself for whatever it was the Maker had in store for her.

It was a widely known fact in the Marches that the Trevelyans were an extremely devout clan. In fact, tradition had almost sent Trevelyan herself into the chantry. First when she was barely out of swaddling clothes, her parents had wanted to give her to the chantry to become a sister and later, after she had proven her martial skills, as a Templar. The Inquisitor's Great Aunt Lucille, had put her foot down and forbidden the Bann and his wife from sending their youngest away. The Trevelyan matriarch long predicted that the Bann's youngest would outshine the rest of the family in both power and station, though at the time it as assumed that Lucille had simply grown fond of the child and did not wish to see her shut up inside a chantry or bound by the chains of duty to the Order. Yet, though she did not wear shining silverite plate engraved with the sword of mercy or the robes of a priestess, the Inquisitor was still very much bound by the same chains: duty or dishonor and the Maker above all things; it was the Trevelyan way.

So, even though fear gripped at her spine and dread coiled up in her belly, Trevelyan opened the door to her chambers and made her way out into the main courtyard. She climbed the steps up to the landing where she had accepted her role as Inquisitor, her soft boots thudding against the stone. It seemed oddly fitting that the landing would host another potentially life-turning moment for the Inquisitor. Josephine was already awaiting her with a bright smile as the Inquisitor crested the final step. Trevelyan offered her Antivan friend a greeting by way of a nod, as she wasn't entirely sure she trusted her voice to speak clearly. To look at her, she appeared to be the picture of calm. As if, she was meeting any other of the many dignitaries that came to Skyhold. Yet, a well-trained eye could spot the subtle way her hands shook as she tugged nervously at the bottom of her purple-grey leather jerkin. Belatedly, she wondered if her mother had adequately prepared the Prince for the sort of lifestyle Trevelyan lived. If he expected her to be a woman in ruffles and corsets that sat upon a throne while the rest of the Inquisition got their hands dirty, then he was in for a rude awakening.

Her elder sisters may have been content to live their lives in such a manner, but not the Inquisitor. Even if sealing the rifts dotting across Ferelden and Orlais didn't call for her to physically use the ancient elvhen magic that had bound itself to her, Trevelyan was not the sort of woman to let others do work she was capable of doing on her own. Trevelyan was not the sort of woman to deign herself to become a living decoration for the sake of her mother's designs and as much as she was sure her mother would have wanted her dressed formally for this occasion, Trevelyan knew that it was better to let the Prince know immediately where her convictions lay.

She forced herself to remain still, even though her body was screaming to pace or fidget in some manner. She kept her eyes peeled to the gate and the horizon of the path that lay beyond it. Leliana joined them on the landing a moment or so later and immediately flashed a bright, knowing smile towards the Inquisitor. Yet before Trevelyan had a chance to respond a tall, blonde figure appeared behind her and Trevelyan found all of her words suddenly swallowed up. Cullen looked utterly miserable. Whether it was from the pomp and circumstance of meeting yet another noble, or something more, Trevelyan could not presume to wonder. While perhaps there was an inkling of hope that his misery was over the meeting of her intended, Trevelyan knew she could not afford such thinking.

Duty came first, as always.

Several minutes passed of tense silence passed, punctuated but the occasional whisper shared between Leliana and Josephine.

Finally, Trevelyan turned to face her advisors, "shouldn't he have arrived by now?"

"Is it possible your man was mistaken, Leliana?" Cullen asked.

"No, Commander, Torkin was quite insistent that the Prince had arrived."

"Perhaps he lamed his horse?" Trevelyan murmured.

"Oh!" Josephine gasped as she pointed to the gate, "No, look someone is arriving."

The other three heads snapped in the direction of Josephine's pointing finger. At the mouth of the large gates, Trevelyan could see two men approach. Though she had an excellent vantage point, she was somewhat disappointed to see that she could make few features out on their faces save for the color of their hair.

"He's…walking," Trevelyan breathed.

Subconsciously, Trevelyan straightened her spine and gave her jerkin one last tug. Her heart beat wildly against her chest, so fiercely she was sure it was visible through the leather of her of clothes. Still, ever the noble lady, she forced herself to remain still as she watched the Prince and his companion approach. They crossed the courtyard and headed towards the stairs as those milling about the open area stopped and watched the odd pageantry. The two men, both of a similar age became clearer and clearer and Trevelyan realized that he mother had not actually described or given her a likeness of the Prince. They came to stop in front of her, one of them blonde and bored looking while the other had the most piercing pair of blue eyes Trevelyan had ever seen. She felt her cheeks redden as she found herself unable to stop staring at his handsome countenance. He smiled brightly, sincerely at her, as if he was truly happy to be in her company. He and his companion bent at the waist simultaneously, though the Prince's eyes never left hers. As soon as he straightened, the Inquisitor returned the bow and was sure that her advisors had done the same.

Josephine took a small step forward and spoke, "Your worship, may I present to you his royal highness, Prince Vael of Starkhaven. Your highness, may I present her Worship the Lady Inquisitor Trevelyan."

. . .

The path to Skyhold had been peaceful and Sebastian was grateful for the brief interlude before he met the Inquisitor. It gave him a chance to collect his thoughts and bury the feelings the lingered within him like ghosts of the past.

Then as his eyes locked on to the Inquisitor for the first time, Sebastian felt the lingering doubts and stray feelings disappear. Her mother had shown him her likeness, but the small portrait he saw did not compare to the real thing. She was, quite simply, beautiful. She held herself with confidence, even in the face of such a nerve-wracking moment in both their lives. To look at her, one would assume that he was simply another visiting dignitary. He felt himself smiling brighter as the Inquisition's Ambassador made the proper introductions.

"It is my great honor to meet you, your worship."

She smiled at him then, "the honor is mine, your highness. If you'd be so kind, I'd like to introduce you to my advisors. Your highness, my I present Ambassador Josephine Montilyet, Sister Leliana and Commander Cullen Rutherford."

"Ah, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Ambassador Montilyet," Sebastian replied. "And, it is an honor to see you both again, Sister Leliana and Commander Cullen."

The Inquisitor blinked, "you know each other?"

"Oh yes, Inquisitor," Leliana said, smirking. "The Commander and Prince Vael were both in Kirkwall at the same time and the divine saw fit to dispatch me on a mission where I was fortunate enough to make his highness's acquaintance."

Sebastian watched as a flicker passed across the Inquisitor's face. Her eyes swept downcast, as if contemplating something, but in the next moment any trace of whatever had passed through her mind had disappeared. His eyes flicked over to Cullen, whom he realized had been quite silent since his arrival. Sebastian was surprised to find that Cullen was staring coldly at him, all traces of their friendship in Kirkwall gone. He had come to know the former Knight-Captain well, as part of Sebastian's duties had been to see to the well being of the Templars. All those years ago, the two of them had struck up a friendship of sorts and as far as Sebastian knew, he had not done anything to make the other man hold ill will towards him. When Cullen's eyes flicked to the Inquisitor and his demeanor changed sharply, Sebastian understood perfectly.

I am so completely horrified at how long it took for me to get this together. I literally lost a month to work. Its never been this bad before, I apologize profusely. I don't feel right in promising that it won't be another long wait, but I really really plan on it not being this long again. This chapter is also rather short, i just really wanted to put it out there and just get this fic updated a little bit.