Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He’d left her to die. For the sake of the inquisition, and all of those who fell under its banner, he had abandoned her to a fate that none could survive. Cullen grit his teeth, trying to suppress more than just the cold. So many had died already, and he’d allowed the Herald of Andraste to be counted among those numbers. Even as a small voice in the back of his mind insisted that there was nothing that he could have done, a larger part of him knew that he should have done more to try. 

Pulling his cloak snuggly shut, he rubbed his hands together before breathing into his cupped palms, trying to capture the heat of his breath and warm his numb fingertips. He rubbed his arms and shuddered against the cold, in a futile attempt to generate more warmth, before glancing back at the trail of men and women following behind him. 

The night had started out so differently. The entirety of Haven had been alight in celebration, laughter and dancing setting the atmosphere on fire with a jubilant energy. The ominous hole in the sky had finally been closed. The people were allowed a glimmer of hope and it was all because of the Herald of Andraste, a dalish elf of all people.

She denied the title at every turn, not maliciously, but more out of caution than anything else. She couldn’t remember how she’d come about the mark, or what had happened before stepping out of the fade. The exotically beautiful elf was skeptical of the mysticism everyone was trying to force upon her. Cullen saw the way she would stare at her marked hand, how heavily she would contemplate its meaning and why she was the one to bear it. Whether it was Andraste or her Creators that had set her aside, the fact remained, she was their only hope. And Cullen had left her to die. 

What had been the last thing he said to her? Maker, he couldn’t remember. He did remember the determined furrow of her auburn brows when he’d asked her about how she’d escape. Cullen could remember with perfect clarity how her sea green eyes hardened with resoluteness, lips thinning with unwavering, semi-fatalistic, purpose. Delani Lavellan had known that the likelihood of her making it out of Haven with her life wasn’t in her favor, and she didn’t care.

Once the people of Haven, and what remained of the Inquisition’s forces, had made it a safe distance, the flaming arrow had gone up. They’d stood atop the mountain side, holding their breaths and waiting. Then, after a minute or so, the trebuchet fired and the entirety of Haven was buried in snow; the Herald likely buried with it. 

For at least the night, they had a reprieve, and it was because of an elf who’d had the misfortune of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Cullen sincerely hoped that he had the chance to thank her for providing everyone with the opportunity to make it out of Haven safely. He ignored the nagging sense of doubt that persisted that it was already too late. 

“She made it.” A voice deeply rumbled from his side, surprising him away from his thoughts. Cullen glanced down to catch Varric standing beside him. The dwarf was swaddled in a coat too large for him, a mug of hot tea forced into his hands the moment he, Solas, and the Iron Bull reunited with the rest of the Inquisition’s forces. 

They’d gone with her to face the Elder One, they were supposed to have her back, and yet they’d been the only ones to return. Cullen shook his head and looked up from the stout man. He was glad that the Herald’s team had made it back safely; it wasn’t that he’d rather for them all to have died in Haven, he just wished that Delani could’ve made it out with them.

His exhale was heavy with doubt and clouded the air in front of him. Combing his fingers through his thick hair, Cullen summoned forth the piece of him who so desperately wanted to believe Varric. When he looked back down at the dwarf, it was with a small smirk feigning at the corner of his mouth. “Maker willing,” he replied.

Varric noticed straight away the lack of conviction in Cullen’s features, and his brows pinched slightly with displeasure. Confidently he said, “Just give her some time to catch up,” and he left Cullen’s side so that he could join the others. 

Rubbing the weariness from his eyes, Cullen let loose another heavy breath and turned to assist  in putting together another medical tent. Many people had gotten hurt during the escape and, for some, the cold mountain air would not help them overcome their injuries. He had to keep his hands busy in order to take his mind off of his short comings in protecting the Herald. 

There was this weight hovering over the camp, over the souls that occupied it. They had their lives, but what would become of them now? With Delani alive there had been a sure way of closing rifts; if she didn’t come back… More than that, now they also had this Elder One to contend with.  

The Inquisition was currently in a state of disarray. They had no base of operations, they had no fortifications, they had no structure, they had no leader, and Cullen knew that it would be the latter that might be their undoing. Without someone to follow, this meager force would eventually disband and all of Thedas would be doomed to fall further into chaos. But who would lead them? 

He was commander of the Inquisition’s forces, the men followed his every word loyally and with conviction, but Cullen knew his limitations. He had failed so grandly in the past, and he couldn’t fail again, not with this. That left Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine. 

All three women had their strengths, all three women were no strangers to responsibility or challenge, but could any of them lead an entire inquisition? Cassandra had already turned away from the role, and Leliana talents were best suited in the cover of shadows and mystery. Josephine was an intelligent and resourceful woman, but she couldn’t lead the inquisition. She didn’t have the stomach for difficult decisions or the demands of war. Her resilience as an ambassador wouldn’t translate to the makings of the kind of leader the Inquisition needed. Yet again it seemed that the elf woman was the answer to one more question. 

Once the tent was set up Cullen stepped away in order to join Josephine, Leliana, and Cassandra in planning their next move. He had stalled long enough, waiting for Varric’s prediction of Delani’s return to come to fruition. She was likely buried with the rest of Haven. They had to move on, even if the very thought made this sickening pit form in his gut. 

They were gathered around a table, a map of Ferelden splayed over its surface. The three women looked about as frustrated and hopeless as Cullen felt. Cassandra’s short hair was mussed from brushing her fingers through it too often, the frown on her lips more than the irritated downward pull he’d become accustomed to; Cassandra’s frown was disheartened, worried, afraid for what would come. Josephine was little better at disguising her fear. Her clipboard was still in hand out of habit, as though holding the thing would keep her grounded. Out of all of them it was Leliana who maintained an unshakable exterior. But Cullen could still tell by the shadow in her eyes that she wasn’t doing any better than the rest of them.

“With Haven gone, where will we go?” Josephine asked, pressing her clipboard to her breast as she contemplated the map spread open before them. “Our occupation of Haven was borne out of necessity. Convincing someone else to give us sanctuary won’t be as easy the second time around.”

“Well we can’t linger about on the mountainside,” Cullen stated the obvious, feeling a seed of frustration start to take root and threaten to spread. “We are vulnerable to attack, and we’ll lose more people to this blasted cold.”

The grunt that sounded from Cassandra was agreeing, though when she spoke it was to argue with him. “Without a benefactor, settling just anywhere would appear as trespassing. We are not the force we were at dawn, and we may not inspire the same support we did just hours ago.”

“And we can’t very well take claim of just anywhere.” Leliana inserted. “We’re not invaders.”

“No,” Cullen was forced to agree with that much. Firmly gripping the pommel of his sword, he welcomed the familiarity of it, understanding Josephine’s need to hold her clipboard. “But, the statement still stands: we need to move.”

Delani hated the cold, she always had. She hated the way it ate through even the warmest clothing, how it chilled her nose, and made it feel like the moisture in her mouth and throat was turning into dangerously sharp icicles. She couldn’t stand the way the tips of her pointed ears felt raw, attacked by the freezing wind and snow. Her clan typically stuck to warmer climate areas if ever possible, asking the same of the Inquisition seemed like asking for the impossible. 

She hugged herself as she trudged through knee high snow, cursing the wind and the snow with every step. Bandits, she could deal with, bears, no problem, demons, those were new but she could handle demons; blistering cold, icy wind, knee high snow, all while wearing her poorly insulated hunter garbs, that she couldn’t deal with gracefully. What Delani wouldn’t do for a roaring fire right about now, who she wouldn’t kill for a bowl of soup so hot it would burn her mouth. 

What pushed her forward was the need to know that her team had made it out of Haven safely; also the howling wolves that were pursuing her, but she was trying not to think about them. Varric, Solas, and Iron Bull had remained loyally at her side throughout the fight at Haven. Up until a thousand year old Tevinter magister, darkspawn, hybrid, thing had appeared with an arch demon and separated them. 

An arch-fucking-demon, she growled to herself as she freed her boot from the snow and pushed herself forward. Currently, the only thing keeping her trudging along was her anger. If not for her determination to exact revenge on Corypheus, she would have collapsed hours ago. Even if her current speed was a slow meander, she was moving which was much more than what her body was willing to do. 

Another howl sounded through the night, closer this time. She didn’t bother reaching for the daggers sheathed at her back. Her muscles were too stiff, her motions were too slow. She wouldn’t be able to fight off a pack of wolves. A wolf she might be able to take down but, in her current state, a pack would tear her apart easier than a new born fennic. Last she counted there were four wolves trailing her, there were likely to be more now. If she had any luck at all they were hungry, and hopefully it would be enough to at least make it quick.

Breathing into her hands, she rubbed them together and tried to cause enough friction to at least feel the digits again. Her legs were aching, the muscles protesting each step as she took them. The bones in her side screamed with each breath, with every motion, and Delani was familiar enough with the pain to recognize that a minimum of one of her ribs was at least cracked, if not completely broken. 

The last time she’d felt the familiar pain she’d fallen out of a tree. Delani had been a child, playing hide-and-seek with her father. Her mother had always scolded her against climbing, but her father secretly encouraged her wild tendencies. He’d been counting, his face buried in the crook of his arm as he casually leaned against a tree, bow slung across his torso in case they ran into any trouble. 

Delani could remember herself giggling, her excitement giving away her hiding place before her father even had the chance to look up from inside his elbow. She’d made it halfway up the tree, and had planned to climb even higher when she felt something scuttle across her fingers. There was one thing that Delani hated more than the cold and the snow, and that was spiders. Ripping her hand free from beneath the spider’s legs had caused her to lose her footing, her balance was thrown and she fell.

Her small body had collided with branches on the way down. The impact of being so violently returned to the ground had stolen the breath right from her lungs. She could remember the worry and the desperation in her father’s light, chestnut colored eyes, could hear him calling her name and making sure that she was alright. He’d carried her back to the clan and had taken her mother’s ire in stride. Afterwords, when she was afraid of climbing and falling again, he’d encouraged her back into the branches. 

“You’ve learned the danger, da’mi.” He’d said, brushing back her auburn hair as he stared at his daughter with adoring eyes. “Avoiding your fears does not destroy them. Only by overcoming them will you see beyond the tree line.”

Trembling fingers reached for the carving knife strapped to her belt. She thumbed over the hilt, trying to summon the energy to keep on going even if all her body wanted to do was collapse into the powdery white sheet of snow surrounding her for miles. She wasn’t afraid of climbing anymore. Spiders still made her skin crawl but the worst they did was make her uncomfortable. Her newest fear was a monster that claimed to have walked physically through the fade, the creature who had cursed her with this mark. 

She either had the worst luck in the world, or the best; Delani still hadn’t decided which. She’d survived whatever had happened in the Temple of Sacred Ashes, when everyone else in attendance had died. Corypheus had kindly bestowed her with this anchor, which could possibly kill her, but also closed rifts to the Fade and helped kill demons. Tonight she’d met her first Tevinter magister, and also an arch demon, and she’d come away from the encounter with her life. On a less cataclysmic level, the snow had finally stopped flurrying, but now the wolves at her back were starting to get impatient. Delani’s luck was a dual sided blade, she decided, for her good luck always went hand in hand with the bad.

Her knees buckled and she fell face first into the snow. The cold white flecks greeted her bitingly, chilling her cheeks and seeping through her breeches. A groan escaped her as she pushed herself out of the snow, trying to escape winter’s frosty fingers before it drained her completely of all willpower to press on. 

She managed to get onto her knees but her body refused to be pushed further. Even as a deadly chorus sang into the night, she couldn’t be swayed to pick herself up off of the ground. Get up, a voice said to her, its tone scolding, irate. If you stay here you’ll die. 

Would dying be so terrible? She’d done what she could for the Inquisition. They’d hardly needed her before anyway. Yes, they’d forced titles on her like “Herald of Andraste” and called her “The Maker’s Chosen” but those had just been names supplied out of fear. She was just an elf. They’d find another.

She pulled free the carving knife at her waist and stared down at the worn hilt, admiring how the blade caught the star light and seemed to glow in the night. “Coward,” she grumbled to herself, her breath clouding the air before her. Was this really going to be her undoing? A little cold and a broken rib? Was this the exemplification of what kind of people the Dalish had to offer? No wonder her people had fallen so far. She was weak and the weak died off. The laws of nature bent for no one. 

Her eyes fell shut and her trembling fingers wrapped tightly around the knife’s hilt, clutching it desperately as she reminded herself why she needed to get back on her feet. She had to make sure that the others had made it out of Haven safely. Delani had to be sure that her clan didn’t get crushed in the chaos that this world was becoming. Her parents had raised her to be better than this. Her father would be so disappointed to see her kneeling in the snow, encumbered by her own self-doubt and weakness. 

What would Varric tell others about her? The Herald of Andraste was torn apart by wolves because she broke a rib and couldn’t go for a walk in the snow. It would be the shortest story ever told. That was how she would be remembered, that was how her companions would talk about her.

A pair of golden eyes appeared on the backs of her tightly shut eyelids, shining like honey held against the sunlight. They were not her father’s eyes, though sometimes they reminded her of him. Those beautiful amber irises belonged to the commander of the Inquisition, and if she died now she would never see them again. What a shame it would be, to die without having gotten the chance to get to know Cullen; when there was so much that she wanted to know. 

What did his laugh sound like? She’d pulled a chuckle out of him once or twice already, but Delani wanted to hear an honest to Creators laugh. Did he snort when he laughed, she couldn’t help but wonder, thumbing over the tip of her knife. And that smile, she remembered the sight of it, the way the scar on his lip would scrunch up with his amusement. Her fascination with the human made her feel like an archeologist, there was still so much of him left to uncover; which she couldn’t do if she was eaten alive by wolves.

Opening her eyes, she stared down at the carving knife, mustering the energy to get back onto her feet. This was not how her story was going to end. She moved her leg and braced herself against the snow. This was not how she was going to be remembered. Delani pulled herself up with a groan and waited for her head to stop spinning. She was not going to die before finding out what Cullen’s laugh sounded like.

Finally she was moving again, slower than ever, but at least she moving. She returned the knife to its place on her belt, grateful that she’d remembered to bring it with her. The small blade had seen her through a great deal, and it’d see her through this too. 

Delani kept going, kept moving, not daring to stop; because if she did she wouldn’t be able to start back up again. The wolves were constantly at her back, waiting, anticipating, biding their time until she was no longer able to move. 

The muscles in her legs ached, her bones groaning with her every step. The pain in her side had changed from unbearable to ignorable, the sharp dig was still there, consistent with her breathing, but it was just another ache. She was too tired to give a damn. The only thing that Delani cared about was moving, that was all she could allow herself to focus on. Everything else was an afterthought, background noise.

She didn’t know how long she blindly traveled through the snow, couldn’t bring herself to really care, but when her eyes fluttered open it was for hope to ember inside of her. There was a light in the distance, the glow of multiple fires burring, of an encampment waiting. She was so close. She was almost there.

Hope was not enough to make her move any faster. Her energy was depleted. Delani was exhausted, she was in pain, and she didn’t think that she could make it much farther. There was a commotion in the distance, the sound of a horn blaring through the air. She felt it the moment that the wolves decided she was no longer worth the trouble. They fell back as she inched her way toward the orange glow of a dozen camp fires. 

“There!” shouted a familiar masculine voice, the sound like a salve on a burn. “It’s her!” 

Cassandra was running right along side Cullen, Leliana and Josephine coming up behind them. The smokey sound of Cassandra’s voice was oddly comforting. “Thank the Maker,” relief obvious in her voice, ringing almost as loudly as her concern.

Thank someone, Delani thought just as her well of energy ran dry. Exhaustion finally caught up with her and her legs gave out. She felt herself fall and waited to be met by the cold hard ground. Instead Delani was caught in Cullen’s waiting arms. He swept her off of her feet and held her to his chest.

“I got you,” He whispered, his tone full of comforting consolation and weary anxiety in equal parts. The sound of his voice was lulling, and she couldn’t manage to open her eyes to watch his lips move. “You’re safe now.”

In the warmth of his arms it was easy to believe him. The feeling of his pauldron against her cheek was comforting, and Delani allowed herself to relax against him. Delirious, she murmured, “Ar ian’aan ma, vhenan’ara.” Later she would hate herself for losing consciousness in his arms, but now she didn’t have it in her to care.

Those who oppose thee 

Shall know the wrath of heaven. 

Field and forest shall burn, 

The seas shall rise and devour them, 

The wind shall tear their nations 

From the face of the earth, 

Lightning shall rain down from the sky, 

They shall cry out to their false gods, 

And find silence.

Cullen had grown so familiar with doubt throughout the course of his life. He had doubted the Circle, Marideth, the Templar order, he’d doubted himself more times than he could count, and he had doubted that Delani could have made it out of Haven with her life. It was the last of his doubts that felt the most foolish. Dalish or not, whether or not she herself believed, she was the Herald of Andraste. Delani was chosen, blessed, and that could not be so easily undone by an avalanche. 

She was resting now, her eyes shut and her breathing was steady. Her injuries had already been tended to, her chest was bandaged and covered by fresh garbs. Cullen hadn’t left her side since carrying her back to camp, he couldn’t, not until she woke up and he was sure that she was going to be alright. 

Seeing her stagger towards camp… never in his life had he felt that level of relief. His insides had been clawing itself apart all night, worry and fear sharpening their nails against the lining of his gut. And then the scout’s horn blared, and he just knew that she’d retuned. The moment he’d heard the horn he had started running, sprinting in the sound’s direction, trusting it to lead him to her. 

His feet didn’t slow until he saw her standing before a night blacked backdrop, snow upturned by her dragging feet. Delani sagged at the sound of his voice and he immediately recognized what her swaying stance signified. He’d moved in time to catch her and Cullen had been so surprised by how light she was. He’d held swords heavier than her. How could this featherlight creature carry so much weight when she barely weighed anything at all?

Now he sat beside her, watching her rest, knowing that she needed to sleep, but hoping that she would wake soon so that he could see for himself that she was going to be alright. She looked so peaceful as she slept, her features relaxed, and her body covered by warm furs. All Cullen could do was sit and wait, and admire her. 

She was beautiful, he noticed not for the first time. Her cheekbones were sharp, not like Cassandra’s, but pronounced in the loveliest way. Her nose was small, refined, cute as a button. The markings on her round shaped face, her vallaslin, were like tree branches. Leafless limbs stretching across her brow and cheekbones, and roots spreading from her lower lip down her chin in a dark crimson color. It was beautiful against the bronzy color of her skin, and distracted the eye from the light smattering of freckles that ran across her cheeks and nose. If Cullen hadn’t been staring at her, he never would have noticed.

He jerked upright when he noticed her eyes start to flutter open, another wave of relief crashing over him. Finally she was waking up. She was going to be alright, he could trust that now. His hand reached for hers by its own inclination, needing to feel her skin against his, needing the reassurance that she was truly there. 

She blinked several times, a pained moan sounding from her as she cradled her face in a hand. Not wanting her to try and get up, and hurt herself further, Cullen spoke to ease her back into consciousness. “Welcome back, Herald.” He fought back the smile from his lips, feeling a fool for being as elated as he was that she was coming to at last.

“That’s not my name,” she murmured, her voice tired and pained. When she looked up at Cullen there was a slight shine of amusement in her sea green eyes, and he was overjoyed to see it. She tried to perch herself up on an elbow but immediately winced away from the pain and resigned herself to laying flat on her back.

Sighing frustratedly through her nose, she wondered, “How long have I been out?”

When she tried to wipe the sleep from her eyes Cullen realized that he was still holding her hand, and allowed her to reclaim possession of the limb before awkwardly clearing his throat and combing back his blond hair. “Not long enough,” he answered. “You need to rest.”

The moan that sounded from her was of agreement. Her eyes were already falling shut again, her features starting to relax. Cracking one eye open she met his gaze and wondered, “My team—“

“Made it back safely,” he assured her, his tone gentle, encouraging her to fall back asleep. “You can see them once you’ve fully rested.”

Nodding, she quietly whispered, “Ma serannas, vhenan’ara.” After a few seconds had passed her breathing leveled and her body slacked.

And just like that she was asleep once more. That was the second time she’d spoken to him in her native tongue. Cullen watched her for a moment, wondering what she’d said to him. Maybe when she woke again he would ask her. Maybe, now that he knew she was alive and would be staying with them longer, he’d ask her to teach him. 

Shaking his head, he dismissed the notion. Those were thoughts for another time. Delani needed to rest and he needed to let her rest. That was why when Mother Giselle tapped his shoulder, alerting him that the war council needed him, he left without argument. Mother Giselle would watch over Delani. She was safe now, and he had other responsibilities. 

He’d check back in with her later. For now, he was needed elsewhere.

Chapter Text

“Herald—” he called after her and Delani bit back a smile.

Without turning to look at the shemlan and watch him hurry up behind her, she rebuked, “That’s not my name, Commander.”

The feeling of his fingers gently grazing her shoulder pulled her to a stop. Delani turned to face him then, a smile on her lips as she stared up at the tall human. His nose and cheeks were rosy from the cold, his eyes a brilliant golden color under the light of day. There was concern in his expression, his brows pinched and his lips pulled slightly downward as worry found its way onto his handsome features. Was he worried for her, or for the Inquisition? Perhaps both, though it was probably only the latter; she brushed the thought away as irrelevant.

Cullen huffed, annoyed by how often she refused to be acknowledged as what he obviously believed her to be. “Fine, Lady Lavellan,” he corrected himself and his eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of the smile growing on her lips. “You should not be pushing yourself so soon. Your injuries are still healing.”

“Nonsense, Commander,” she returned, grinning up at him to demonstrate that she was feeling fine and any concern he had about her well being was misplaced. Delani placed a hand on his bracer and felt her heart leap in her chest, summersaulting with the contact. Ignoring her body’s startling reaction to touching him, she cleared her throat and continued. “I’ve had healers tending to me all night. I’ve rested, I’ve eaten, and I feel fine.”

Releasing him from her hold, she returned her hand to her side and turned on her heel. Delani adjusted the fit of her gloves as she walked, smiling to herself when Cullen easily kept stride beside her. “At any rate,” she said, her attention on making sure all of her straps were buckled and what sparse armor she was wearing was secured. “Solas knows of a place where we can regroup and rebuild. Corypheus isn’t going to wait for my injuries to heal completely, and neither should we.”

A sigh sounded from Cullen, defeated. He rubbed the back of his neck but he knew that she was right. Delani gave him a side long glance, a smirk playing at the edge of her mouth. When he looked down at her she ripped her eyes back from him and pointed her gaze forward.

“You’re sure that you feel fine?” he asked, concern obvious in the undercurrents of his tone.

The curl at the corner of her lips completely unfurled and Delani grinned to herself. He was worried about her, how cute was that? She wouldn’t lie to him just to ease his concern. Honesty was important to her, and being upfront and transparent was even more so. Delani had been called many things in the past, but hard to read was not one of them.

“I’m a little sore,” she admitted only to immediately amend, “but it’s nothing that I can’t handle.” Playfully nudging his arm with her elbow, Delani teased, “I’m a big girl, Commander. I strapped my own boots and everything,” before motioning his attention to her knee-high boots.

Cullen dragged a hand down his face, grumbling, “Andraste preserve me,” under his breath. When he looked back at Delani there was a laugh in his eyes that didn’t quite make it onto his lips. “Just be careful.” It was a request but came out sounding more like an order.

She stopped and turned to look up at the tall human. Delani took a small step toward him, standing close enough to make him a bit uncomfortable but far enough to still seem respectable. She watched as his eyes dilated before contracting. He noticed her proximity but didn’t know what to make of it, or whether or not he should react to it. Her smile turned peckish as she folded her arms against her bust.

Quirking an eyebrow, she challenged, “Now what fun is there to be had by being careful?”

His head shook with disappointment but the smile was finally starting to break free from under his lips. Cullen answered her question with a question. “What’s more fun than being alive, my lady?”

A laugh sounded from Delani and his smile fully emerged at the sound of it. For that smile alone she would allow him to win that round. “I have my team, vhenan’ara. I’ll be perfectly fine.” She wanted to reach out to him again but didn’t, uncomfortable with how she’d reacted to it before. Instead she offered him the most reassuring smile she had. “There’s no need to worry.”

Just as she was about to walk away again, Cullen grabbed her by the wrist. His touch was soft and easy to break, but she allowed him to gently pull her to a stop. Delani tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in her gut when they touched, knowing that it was unrequited. When he released her, she couldn’t decide if she missed having his gloved fingers around her wrist, or if she was relieved to be free from warmth his touch ignited inside of her.

“Vhenan’ara,” he repeated, testing the word, feeling it tumble gracelessly out of his mouth. His golden eyes sought hers, his eyebrows curved with curiosity. “You’ve called me that before. What does it mean?”

The smile on her lips was mildly panicked. She hadn’t expected him to pick up on it, which had been foolish on her part. During every last one of her previous interactions with humans, they’d completely ignored her. They hadn’t cared for her elvish tongue, and didn’t care to learn it. But being the Herald of Adraste meant that she was no longer invisible. This was the first time that she’d been asked to translate, and of course it had to be a term of endearment that would make the Commander uncomfortable. She almost told him the meaning, if only to watch his reaction to it, but she couldn’t. His embarrassment was not worth suffering her own.

Not wanting to end their conversation awkwardly, Delani answered him with a treaty. “I’ll tell you what: I will tell you what vhenan’ara means the day you actually address me by my name.”

Dissatisfaction creased his features. “But I already called you by your name.” he argued. When Delani’s expression tightened in challenge, he reminded her, “Lady Lavellan. That’s your name, is it not?”

The sincerity of his statement pulled another laugh out of her. Shaking her head, Delani started walking again and shouted back at him, “My real name.”

Relief washed over her with every step. Cullen was so professional, she doubted that he would ever address her as anything other than the titles they’d forced upon her. The closest he would come was ‘Lady Lavellan’ which meant that she’d be saved the embarrassment of telling him the truth. They barely knew each other to start with, she had no business calling him vhenan’ara. But saying it felt right and she couldn’t bring herself to stop. If he ever found out its meaning, and decided that it made him uncomfortable, then she would desist. Until then she was going to have her fun.

Her team was waiting for her some distance away, ready to go on her word even though she doubted that they’d encounter any danger during their trek through the mountains. The Iron Bull, Solas, and Varric were talking; or rather, Iron Bull and Varric were joking, and Solas was quietly observing the two of them with an amused smile curling his lips. She didn’t need all of them present. Solas knew the way and Delani had tracking and navigating skills, but she enjoyed the company.

The men greeted her with smiles of varying degrees. Varric was the first one to receive her, his arms held wide in welcome. “There she is, our illustrious leader.”

“You ready to head out, Boss?” asked Iron Bull, a friendly smirk twisting his lips, his one good eye shining with mirth.

Delani nodded with a sigh. “More ready than you know, Bull.” Allowing a small smile to spread over her mouth she admitted, “If I have to see one more healer I think I might scream.”

Though he laughed, there was sincerity in Varric’s eyes when he next spoke. “It’s good to see you on your feet.” His facial features did a good job disguising his concern with amusement. “You gave us a bit of a scare last night, Elf. Try not to make a habit out of it.”

“Oh I don’t know,” she said with a shrug, tucking her thumbs behind her belt and standing nonchalantly, a playful smile toyed at the edges of her lips. “Now that I’ve had a taste of being missed, I think that maybe I should get attacked by arch demons more often.”

Solas lifted a disapproving eyebrow and shook his head, a laugh spilling out of him in the form of a cough. “Perhaps not,” he advised.

Laughing in agreement, Varric concurred, “He’s right, Elf. You get attacked by an arch demon, we all get attacked by an arch demon.”

Her shoulders jumped with another careless shrug, as though it were a trivial fact and one they shouldn’t have concerned themselves with. Looking down at Varric, Delani narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Pointedly, she observed, “You know, Varric, there are three of us now. You’re going to have to come up with a better nickname for me than ‘elf’.”

The sigh that expelled from the dwarf was disheartened. “I know, I know,” Varric admitted. “Elf was just a placeholder until I came up with something better.”

Grin expanding over her lips, Delani quickly moved to rectify his predicament. “Oh, I have a suggestion,” she said. “You should call me Razor, or Daggers.”

Varric stared up at her and shook his head, his laugh was mocking, as though those were the two worst nicknames he’d ever heard. “How about Stalky or Reckless? I feel like those would be more fitting.”

Narrowing her eyes, she replied, “Your words wound me, Varric.”

“Oh, Varric, I’ve got one.” Iron Bull chimed in, a mischievous smile splattered over his lips. “How about Eyes, because of her creepy big elf eyes?”

Nodding as though it were a legitimate candidate, Varric rubbed his chin and said, “It has a certain ring to it, Qunari, I’ll give you that.”

Looking from the stout dwarf to the hulking qunari, all Delani could do for a moment was shake her head. Waving off the conversation as though it were a swarm of flies, she tried to back out from what she’d started. “You know what, Bull? Boss is fine. Let’s just stick with Boss.”

It was Solas who spoke up in argument. “I don’t know, da’len. Iron Bull might be on to something.” His eyes were glittering with mischief.

“Not you too, Solas,” she exclaimed, exasperated. Waving at the other two men, she stated, “I expected it from these two, but not from you.” When all three of them started snickering, Delani playfully narrowed her eyes. Her expression tightened with pseudo distaste, and she grumbled, “I saved the whole lot of you yesterday. You should all be nicer to me.”

Tightly clutching his staff, Solas’s expression was light with amusement even as he helped them move on from their repartee. “We’re losing daylight, da’len. We should be moving.”

Varric looked up at her with a shrug. “Baldy’s right.”

Rolling her eyes, Delani turned on her heel and waved for them to follow. “When isn’t he?” she asked before sucking in a deep breath of the fresh mountain air. An excited grin spread over her face before she said, “Alright men, let’s move out.”

Cullen watched as Delani and the others left the camp, setting out in front of the rest of them to mark the safest and quickest path through the mountains. There was an ongoing conflict of emotions waging inside of him. His earlier interaction with the Herald left him feeling… for lack of a better word, bubbly. He felt a smile hiding just under the surface at the mere thought of her. But he was also concerned that she was pushing herself too hard too soon, and that was preventing his smile from unraveling.

He knew Delani was right. They needed to find a place to rebuild, a place that was theirs, where they could grow and expand. Solas claimed to know of such a place, and them going ahead of the main group was only logical. Yet all Cullen could really focus on was the fact that she’d nearly died. She’d avoided the avalanche by some miracle, and had made it back to camp by the Maker’s grace. Delani should’ve been resting, at least for another day.

Too wrapped up in his thoughts, when a mage came to stand beside him, the suddenness of his appearance surprised Cullen. “She’s resilient,” Dorian commented, his eyes shining with curiosity as he watched the small group fade into the distance. Without looking at Cullen, he finished, “I’ll give her that.”

After everything he’d seen it was easy for Cullen to agree with him. “That she is,” he replied, turning around to head back into the encampment and make sure that everyone was prepared to start moving within the hour.

He gave Dorian a sideways glance when the mage kept pace beside him. A part of him was pleased to see the that the other man had stuck around, a larger part of him was surprised because of the same. Yes, he was Tevinter, but he was also different. Cullen couldn’t have explained it if he tried. He didn’t trust the mage, per say, he just didn’t quite distrust him either.

Accepting a report from a soldier as he walked by, Cullen commented, “I see you’re still with us, Ser Pavus.”

He could hear the smile in Dorian’s voice when he replied. “Oh, do try not to sound so disappointed, Commander. It is horribly unbecoming.”

Cullen allowed the corner of his mouth to curl into a half smile, his gaze still on the report as he read it through. When he looked up at Dorian his expression was schooled to seriousness once more. Tapping the report against his leg, he admitted, “I would like to thank you for your help. Your arrival, your warning, it made all of the deference.”

“It did, didn’t it?” Dorian returned, twirling the tip of his mustache with an attitude both fitting of and mocking his station. After a second or two passed, his haughty mien dissipated and Dorian’s shoulders slacked at bit. “Though it is difficult to acknowledge my astounding sense of timing when so many were lost.”

His expression turned contemplative for a moment before he looked up to meet Cullen’s gaze once again. “Chancellor Roderick, to name one specifically. He didn’t make it through the night.”

Cullen clenched his jaw, unsurprised. Roderick’s injuries had been grave. The fact that he had been able to show them the path, and made it as far as he did, was surprising enough. “That’s a shame,” he replied, sincerity in his voice. He and the chancellor might have had words on numerous occasions, but he was a good man undeserving of the fate he’d been dealt. “We all owe him our lives. Even if he didn’t believe in the Herald, he really pulled through when it mattered.”

Dorian nodded in both agreement and understanding before he said, “Ah, yes. Perhaps he thought it best to err on the side of caution when dealing out hefty titles like ‘Herald of Andraste’. Especially to a dalish elf.”

Feeling himself become defensive over Delani, Cullen took a slight step forward. His eyes were narrowed, his brow furrowed with displeasure, his lips sneering slightly as he demanded, “Do you have a problem with her being an elf, Ser Pavus?”

“Me?” he pressed a hand to his chest as though there were someone else he could possibly be speaking to. “Maker no.” Dorian retreated back a step, reclaiming the space that Cullen had stolen from him. Once Cullen had relaxed, allowing them both to fall back into casual conversation, Dorian explained himself. “I don’t know her well enough to attest to her worthiness one way or the other.”

He looked away from Cullen then, slowly scanning over the camp and taking in the sight of all of them preparing to move on and follow after Delani. When his green eyes met Cullen’s again, a small smile twitched at the edges of his lips. With a shrug he said, “From what I’ve seen, Lady Lavellan seems capable, courageous, determined, and strong. And perhaps that’s all that she needs to be.”

Dorian smiled at the surprised expression that took Cullen’s features. “We don’t need a Herald,” he then gestured to the soldiers, Haven’s towns people that had left with them, the people that they’d picked up along the way. Also looking at them all, he finished, “they do. All we need is a leader, and she appears to be filling that role quite nicely. Don’t you agree?”

Thinking over Dorian’s words, Cullen returned his attention to the report in his hand. He didn’t bother rereading it, he was just stalling as he considered the truth of the mage’s statement. The Inquisition needed a leader. While its four current leaders were all capable, their opinions often clashed, their methods conflicted, and most times it was difficult to come to an easy consensus. They needed a single person to turn to, to make the final call and instruct them on how best to use their resources.

Delani had already had a taste of leadership and had handled it admirably. She accessed every situation before deciding how best to act, and which resources to use. They already looked to her for many things. Unwittingly, she had fallen into the role and, unconsciously, they had welcomed her initiative. If he was going to be honest, she was already their leader, all that was left was the formality and ceremony of making it so. It was something that he was going to have to discuss with the others, though Cullen didn’t see why any of them would disagree with him.

Having stalled long enough, Cullen looked up from the report and met Dorian’s expectant gaze again. Rubbing the back of his neck, he finally answered, “I suppose I do.”

The smile that pulled at Dorian’s lips was of self-satisfaction, which then turned departing. Inclining his head, the mage dismissed himself. “I’ve stolen enough of your precious time, Commander. There is still much to be done.”

Cullen nodded in understanding and appreciation. As the Tevinter mage turned to leave, he said, “Thank you again, Ser Pavus.”

The other man walked backwards for a bit, a grin on his lips and his arms spread in a haughty display of conceit. “Gratitude and recognition, two things that I don’t receive nearly as often as I should. I think I might stick around a bit longer for that alone.” He then turned back around and continued on his way.

A short chuckle expelled from Cullen as he watched Dorian depart. Shaking his head, Cullen started toward the far edge of camp, where he knew the women would be. Dorian had been right in his observation of Delani’s adeptness for leadership, and Cullen knew that they would recognize it as well. It was painfully obvious that the Inquisition needed a voice and a face, a person standing at point. It was just as obvious that that person needed to be Delani. If they could agree on anything, he knew that it would be on this.

Chapter Text

When Solas said that he knew of a place where they could regroup and rebuild, this was not what she’d been expecting. Skyhold was a fortress, it was a wonder, and it was exactly what they needed. There was room for everyone, for the soldiers, the scholars, the medics, and everyone in-between. There was so much to explore, and even more to do. Often times Delani would stand overwhelmed and undecided on whether she wanted to help unload the steady flow of incoming supplies, or if she wanted to familiarize herself with Skyhold’s grounds.

After concluding that she could both explore and help unpack, she assisted Dennett in getting the stables ready for the exhausted and temperamental mounts. She shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was to discover that the human Horse Master had been able to rescue every last one of her mounts. The man was dedicated to his job, and she appreciated him for it. She didn’t know what they would do without him. Most weren’t bred for the mountain air, Dennett explained to her as she laid out the bedding. If they didn’t tend to the creatures properly, they risked losing them.

Once the stables were ready, she helped Dennett get all of the steeds into their respectable spaces. A smile coiled her lips as the large creatures quickly settled in, as if they knew that this was their home and that they could finally relax. Delani walked through the stables, making sure that all of the mounts had everything they needed, before stopping in front of her favorite one. Cornelius, the red hart, stepped up to the gate and huffed in her face in greeting.

Laughing at the magnificent creature, she stroked the side of his face up to his ear. He was an enormous thing, with a temper that made most others give him a wide berth. When it came to Delani, though, he was gentle and calm. They’d formed a special bond, and he didn’t throw her even under threat of being mauled by a bear. Halla were intelligent steeds, smarter than horses and even most children. Cornelius was no halla, but sometimes he was too smart for his own good.

She stole an apple from the barrel behind her, and checked to make sure that Dennett’s attention was elsewhere before giving Cornelius the treat. The hart quickly nabbed it from her open palm, knowing that the treat was their little secret. He scarfed it down quickly before nudging her for another. Patting his nose, Delani murmured, “That’s a good boy,” a smile on her face and a laugh in her voice.

A somberness threatened to bud inside of her. Cornelius was the closest thing that she had to home. He reminded her of her clan’s halla, and everything that reminded Delani even slightly of her clan had the tendency to make her sad. Giving Cornelius another loving stroke, she didn’t turn to Dennett when she asked, “Did you need anything else, Dennett?”

The human groaned as he lifted a sack of seed. Voice strained under the weight of burlap sack, he replied, “Not at the moment.” He moved the seed into the corner of the stables, near the barrels that they would be poured into, and patted his hands clean on his trousers. Offering Delani a grateful simper, he stated, “Thank you for your assistance, Herald.”

She returned his smile with a polite, yet pleading, one of her own. “Please, Dennett, call me Delani.” All of this ‘Herald of Andraste’ nonsense was getting old. If she was going to be spending much time in the stables, like she was planning on, he could at the very least feel comfortable enough to call her by her first name.

The expression on his features was acknowledging of her request but respectfully declining the familiarity. Without further addressing her statement, he moved their attention to all of mounts accommodating the stables. “These beasts can finally relax. ‘Bout time too, they were getting bite-y.”

Delani hummed in understanding. Their travels had been long and tiring, by the end of it everyone was feeling bite-y. Returning her gaze to Cornelius, she rubbed his neck as she asked, “Do you mind if I stay a bit longer?” She glanced over her shoulder to catch Dennett’s reaction, only to have the hart nuzzle her ear. Giggling away from him, she pushed Cornelius’s nose away from her face and finished her thought. “I haven’t brushed Cornelius in a long time, and I think we both miss it.”

The human’s expression was amused as he regarded her and the mount. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he casually shrugged his shoulders before admitting, “Normally I’d be more than happy for you to stay and brush him down,” his expression turned serious as he finished his statement. “But I think Cassandra wants to speak with you.”

Surprised, Delani glanced over her shoulder to where a group was starting to form. Curiosity and dread started to take root in her gut. She could feel that something was about to happen, but she didn’t know what. The uncertainty was making her uncomfortable. Stepping towards the stable’s exit, she stared a little while longer at the amassing crowd.

Without looking back at the Horse Master, she wondered, “Do you have any idea what she wants to speak with me about?”

“I’m not privy to that information, my lady,” he answered, his tone only slightly apologetic; if only for the fact that he didn’t have the information she was asking after. “I’m only here for the horses.”

A sigh spilled from her, her discomfort growing with the feeling of foreboding. She knew that something was about to happen, and also that she couldn’t avoid whatever it was. The group gathering on Skyhold’s lower grounds was already double what it had been just moments ago. Answers lied within that crowd, as did something else. Setting her jaw, Delani decided to get whatever was about to happen over with.

“Thank you, Dennett,” she said, “I’ll speak to you another time.”

He mumbled a reply and she stepped forward, pushing herself towards the growing commotion. A part of her insisted that she turn tail and run for the hills, whatever was about to happen she probably wanted nothing to do with. A larger part of her was intrigued. What did Cassandra want to speak with her about? Why was the crowd forming? What was about to happen, and why did it feel like it involved her?

Delani quickly found Cassandra. She was accompanied by Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine. They were in the middle of a discussion before Cassandra noticed her approach and waved her over, bringing her to the others' attention as well. They shared a knowing look that made Delani nervous, before dispersing before she could join their circle.

As Delani came to stand in front of Cassandra she tried to convince herself that the look in the other woman’s eyes wasn’t sinister. Cassandra noticed the wary glance that Delani gave the crowd and said by way of explanation, “They arrive daily from every settlement of the region. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage.”

Delani didn’t reply and Cassandra started walking. Sticking closely to the Seeker’s side, Delani divided her attention between the purpose of the gathering crowd below and listening to what Cassandra had to say. Since arriving in Skyhold everyone had been preoccupied settling in. Delani hadn’t really interacted with Cassandra or the others, and now she felt out of the loop because of it. She was missing something, on the outside looking in, waiting for something to happen. The whole thing made her uncomfortable.

“If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One. We have the walls and the numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated.” She paused at the top of the stairwell, looking to Delani with a hint of admiration in her brown eyes. There was something more there too, wheels turning, plots unfolding. When she spoke, her tone was casual, but Delani could tell that Cassandra was up to something, and that she wouldn’t like it.

Cassandra glanced down at Delani’s marked hand when she finished her thought, “But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew you to him.”

Delani also looked down at her hand. The mark ran like a scar over her palm, the green glow a constant reminder that her life would never be the same. She used to be a hunter for a Dalish clan. People had always turned to her for direction, but this was different. Before she was just an elf among elves, now she was the Herald of Andraste and people looked to her for guidance and approval. They regarded her as though she were more than herself, and Delani didn’t like it.

Andraste, the Maker, the Creators, what did any of them matter? She wasn’t chosen by some higher power to be something greater. She was just a woman with the misfortune of having a terrible sense of timing. People followed her because of their own misinterpretation of unfortunate events. The anchor was the work of magic, not divine intervention, and yet superstition came more naturally to these people than logic.

Without looking up from the glowing scar running across her palm, at Cassandra, Delani rebuked, “He came for this and now it’s useless to him, so he wants me dead; that’s it.” There logic, why was it so hard of a concept for people to grasp? Why make her more than what she was when the truth was so much easier to understand?

The look Cassandra gave her was sympathetic, but the shine in her eyes revealed just how little she believed Delani’s words. She turned and started walking again, giving Delani a sideways glance to make sure that she was still following closely at her side. “The anchor has power, but its not why you’re still standing here.” she said, starting up the stairs for the center building in Skyhold’s courtyard.

As she climbed the stairs, Cassandra explained, sincerity in her words, confidence in her tone, “Your decision let us heal the sky, your determination brought us out of Haven. You are the creature’s rival because of what you did. We all know it.”

Leliana was waiting at the center platform with a gorgeously crafted great sword held reverently in her hands. Her head was bowed respectfully, a twinkle in her eye that Delani came to understand to mean that she knew far more than she was letting on. The nerves that had started to bud in her gut finally sprouted, fully blooming and anxiously weighing down in her stomach.

She glanced back at Cassandra, hoping that the other woman would save her from whatever it was that was about to happen, but the look the Seeker gave her was telling. She was behind this, or at least had a hand in it. Delani wouldn’t be saved, this was happening and she was expected to play a part.

“The Inquisition requires a leader, the one who has already been leading it.” said Cassandra, an encouraging smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She was regarding Delani with such confidence, such faith, such certainty, and it terrified her. Without the slightest bit of doubt, she stated, “You.”

Delani’s wide eyes moved from Cassandra down to the crowd that had formed on the lower grounds. They were all looking up at her. Soldiers, pilgrims, workers, and merchants, people of every background, every upbringing, all looking to her with something resembling awe in their eyes. This wasn’t right, she didn’t deserve this. Yes, she’d closed some rifts, killed some bad people, resolved some conflicts, but nothing that truly merited this.

Swallowing hard, she fought hard not to panic and high tail it as far from Skyhold as possible. Could she be the inquisitor? Her, an elf? Snapping her attention back at Cassandra, she had to make sure that the shemlan’s head was still on straight. “You’re offering this to an elf?” Delani asked, demanded more like, knowing that this respectable position would normally never be offered to someone like her. “Are you quite sure you know what you’re doing?”

The smile that lifted Cassandra’s features was reassuring. Wordlessly, she admitted that much thought had gone into this decision, and it wasn’t one that they made lightly. She and the others had likely reviewed all candidates and this was the best outcome that they’d come to. The position was being offered to Delani not only because there was no one else, but because they felt that there was no one else more deserving of it. Delani thought that they were insane.

“I would be terrified handing this power to anyone. But I believe it is the only way.”  She walked toward Leliana, trying to usher Delani ever closer to the blade. Cassandra’s features were stern with resolve and warm with reassurance. Delani was not in this alone, but only she could accept this responsibility. “They’ll follow you. To them being an elf shows how far you’ve risen, how it must have been by Andraste’s hand.”

Delani tentatively approached Leliana and the blade, warily holding its gaze as if eyeing a high dragon. She couldn’t see the difference. Taking that blade felt equivalent to poking a dragon and Delani felt disinclined to do either. Her entire body was shaking with foreboding, uncertainty, skepticism. Could she do this?

She barely heard the woman when Cassandra started speaking again. “What it means to you, how you chose to lead us, that is for you alone to determine.”

Her stomach was rolling, anxiety, nerves, and paralyzing fear keeping her from moving for or away from the sword, from the title that came with taking it. What would it mean to be Inquisitor? What would change that hadn’t already been changed? Delani unconsciously reached for the carving knife always strapped to her side. She felt the worn hilt, worried on the old leather. She could help by being Inquisitor, not just the people in general, but her  people. Elves were mistreated, disregarded, esteemed as less than human, no more than beasts. Yet here she stood, being offered the position of Inquisitor, becoming more than anyone could have ever imagined.

Elves across Thedas needed someone to fight for them, to remind the rest of the world that their lives mattered. She couldn’t do that as a hunter. Being just another elf wouldn’t protect her clan from the constant threat of being attacked by ignorant shemlan. Fading back into the background wouldn’t help change the lives of millions for the better. To not take that blade would be to put herself in front of the needs of countless lives.

Feeling the carving knife’s hilt helped to remind her that her father would have wanted her to be more, to be better. If he were here he’d tell her to take the blade, to be the difference. He’d look at her with pride in his chestnut colored eyes, and remind her of the faith he’d had in her abilities. She could be the change she wanted to see; she could make the difference. She could do this, she had to do this.

Her hand lifted from the carving knife’s hilt, slowly reaching out to the blade still held in offering by Leliana. Grinding her teeth, she forced herself to stop shaking. Her life was going to be changed by this, again. To think that merely months ago she’d just been a hunter, leading only her clan’s hunters. Her biggest concern had been keeping away bandits and making sure the clan had enough to eat. Simpler times. Now she was to be Inquisitor, and she would rule armies.

Delani took the blade and was surprised by its weight, the weight of this decision, the weight of this title. Taking a deep breath, she admired the shine of the sleek blade, the dragon that wrapped around the hilt and danced over the metal. It was a gorgeous sword, deserving of a queen, of an Inquisitor.

Without looking away from the sword, she vowed, “I will lead us against Corypheus, and I will be an ambassador. I am an elf standing for Thedas, the Inquisition is for all.”

Cassandra came up behind her, pulling Delani’s attention with her. “Wherever you lead us.” she respectfully replied before approaching the edge of the platform. Looking toward the mesmerized group of onlookers, Cassandra’s booming voice wondered, “Have the people been told?”

A smile hinted at Josephine’s features, proud and prolific as she loudly responded, “They have. And soon, the world!”

Satisfied with the other woman’s answer, Cassandra moved her attention to Cullen. “Commander, will they follow?”

The look on Cullen’s handsome features left little room for doubt. Turning around to face the crowd, he sought to quickly erase what little uncertainty remained on whether or not Delani would be accepted. “Inquisition, will you follow?” The crowd cheered. “Will you fight?” Their cries grew louder. “Will we Triumph?” The voices gathered in the courtyard were deafening.

With a grin on his lips, Cullen unsheathed his sword and pointed it toward Delani. His confidence was unwavering, his trust unbending as he shouted over the boom of hollering voices, “Your leader, your Herald, your Inquisitor!”

Well, that settles that, I suppose, thought Delani before lifting her blade into the air, their cheering succeeding what she’d assumed to be their maximum decibel. These people believed in her, had faith in her. They thought she was chosen by some divine force, when the truth was so much easier to grasp. And none of that truly mattered. Chosen or not, holy or not, Delani was the Inquisitor now, and the whole world was about to change because of it. She only hoped that she didn’t fail and get every last one of them killed.

There was an energy in Skyhold, radiating from the people who now inhabited it. An excitement and eagerness that had not been there before. Change was upon them and they were no longer afraid to meet it head on. They had a leader, the Inquisition had a face, and she was beautiful.

Maker was she beautiful. Did she even know how beautiful she was? Cullen stared at the woman, blade in hand and pointed upwards in show. Her auburn hair was being gently blown back by the wind, as if the Maker himself was caressing her lovely features. Her clay colored skin glowed like bronze under the sunlight, sea green eyes shining with trepidation and forced confidence.

For a moment he’d been afraid that she wouldn’t accept the title, that she would refuse to become Inquisitor. And could he really blame her if she had? Being Inquisitor meant something life changing. It meant she could now dine with kings and queens, that she could command armies, it meant that she was now an indisputable authority that demanded nothing short of respect.

After a moment of understandable contemplation Delani had taken the sword, and Cullen felt a wave of relief wash over him. As Inquisitor she became their leader, but it also meant that she was staying. He didn’t know why it was so important to him that she did. Truly anyone would be safer far from the Inquisition’s battles, and she’d be standing at the forefront of them all, but if she stayed it meant that he could get to know her better, and Cullen desperately wanted to get to know her better.

Not ever in his life had he met a woman so capable. She fought with vigor, lead with confidence, and had this smile that made his knees weak. If anyone could do the role of Inquisitor credit, it was she. She would command armies, his soldiers, him, and the thought made him feel nothing but a foreign resounding calm. Knight-Commander Meredith had mislead him, abused her powers, dehumanized her charges, but he knew that Delani would be different.

Delani was nothing like Meredith, she was more than Meredith could have ever dreamed to be. She was more than the Herald of Andraste, and Cullen had nothing but respect and admiration for her. As the elf woman descended from the stairs, great sword sheathed at her side so that the people could see, Cullen couldn’t help but acknowledge that perhaps his feelings were a bit more than respect and admiration.

Would it be so farfetched for him to be romantically attracted to Delani? Yes, he decided. She was the Inquisitor now. He was the commander of her forces, her advisor. Professionalism demanded that he respect her as his superior and not regard her as a potential lover. He wouldn’t have bedded Meredith, after all. But that comparison was lacking, which also helped to further his own point. While Meredith had been an older, and more experienced, woman, at her best she was also half the woman that Delani was.

After everything that Cullen had been through, after everything he’d done, all the vile things he’d thought, he didn’t deserve someone like Delani. He choked down the thought, he was no longer the man he’d once been, he deserved more than he gave himself credit for.

Why was he even thinking about this? Entertaining the thought was pointless. Delani was her own woman. She could decide for herself what she wanted, and he knew that it would never be him.

She was proud of her people, and cared so dearly about being an elf. Getting involved with a human was frowned upon by her kind. Even if she could someday see him as more than just an advisor, more than the Commander, would she even want to pursue anything romantic with him?

When a pit started to form in his stomach he shoved away the thoughts and turned away from the dangerous trail they would lead him. He was content where he was, and with their relationship being what it was. That contentment probably wouldn’t last him long, but for now it was enough.

He watched as she accepted congratulations and praise left and right. She was smiling, the expression on her face uncertain and hesitant, though no one else seemed to notice. He could understand her trepidations, but he also knew that if anyone could do this it was her. Cullen wanted to congratulate her himself, to make sure that she knew that he had faith in her abilities, but she was preoccupied and he had other things to attend to.

There were a million things left to do. The main hall needed to be cleared of rubble, the battlements needed to be fortified and manned, guard rotations needed to be established, and the surrounding area needed to be thoroughly mapped. Delani now had a trove full of new responsibilities that she would need to attend to as well. They were both terribly busy people, and stealing a moment of her time would’ve been more selfish than professional.

Yet when Delani approached him, smile on her full lips, he couldn’t help but feel grateful that she’d pulled herself from the horde of gawkers to speak with him. The short woman stood before him, a laugh in her eyes that he’d become so accustomed to seeing. The smirk at the corner of her lips was teasing and Cullen found himself charmed by the very sight of it.

“Commander,” she said, mischief in her voice, playfulness in her eyes.

Cullen couldn’t help the smile that unearthed on his lips. Bowing his head in greeting, he respectfully returned, “Inquisitor."

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Delani schooled her features to faux-seriousness and cleared her throat. “I have a favor to ask of you, vhenan’ara.”

The sound of his given nickname made his heart jump in his chest. He wanted to know its meaning so badly, but couldn’t bring himself to submit to the terms of her agreement. The lack of decorum was disrespectful, and all that Cullen had for her was respect. Knowing that she wouldn’t reveal the meaning to him today, he eagerly replied instead, “Name it.”

“The next time the four of you decide that you want to make a life altering decision,” she quirked a semi-scolding eyebrow, a finger tapping against her bicep as she regarded him, “and it’s my life that you’ll be altering, please run it by me first.”

She glanced back at the crowd that had only just started to disperse. Without looking back at him, Delani grumbled, “I would have appreciated a little forewarning before stepping into all of that.”

A laugh sounded from Cullen. She was right of course. Forcing her blindly into that situation, while tactful, was also inconsiderate. He, Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine had put her on the spot, forcing her answer.

Trying, and failing, to wipe the small smile from his lips, Cullen replied, “I’ll take it under advisement, Inquisitor, but I make no promises.”

Delani pursed her lips, dissatisfied with his answer. Narrowing her eyes into playful sharpness, she observed, “You must really dislike my name, Commander.”

His smile spread widely across his lips. Resting his hands on the pommel of the sword on his hip, he rebuked, “You know, for a woman who hates titles being thrown around, you seem fairly quick to avoid using my name as well.”

“That’s fair.” she conceded with a slight nod. After a second her smile returned, brighter than before, taunting him in a way that reminded him of his eldest sister. Arching an eyebrow that challenged him to dispute her next statement, she said, “But you seem to prefer me calling you Commander over Cullen.”

Before he could respond one way or the other, her smile turned wolfish and she inserted, “It does have a nice ring of authority to it, I must admit.”

“Inquisitor!” Someone shouted from the upper courtyard, beckoning Delani’s attention.

She looked over her shoulder to find Cassandra waving for her to come. Sighing, Delani shook her head and looked at the ground for a second. Cullen wondered what she was thinking about, what was going on in that beautiful head of hers. When she looked back at him the smile was back in her eyes, feigned as annoyance.

“Inquisitor for five minutes and I’m already being put to work.” She offered him a departing smile before excusing herself from their conversation. “I’ll speak to you later, Cullen.”

He nodded, allowing her to leave his presence without protest, though he did secretly wish for more time in her company. “Inquisitor,” said Cullen by way of goodbye. He watched as she turned to climb the steps and meet with Cassandra.

There was a confidence to her stride, her steps cocksure and lithe. Delani Lavellan was a woman of merit, and he was glad that she’d had the misfortune of being sent to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Everything that had brought them to this point had happened for a reason. She was the Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor, and nations would bow at her feet. Cullen was proud to be a part of this movement, and was honored to serve a woman such as she.

A soldier came up to him, report in hand, snatching him from his thoughts. Cullen accepted the report with a sigh. There was work to be done. There was always work to be done.

Chapter Text

There was a resounding ache that started at the back of his skull and pulsed throughout the rest of his body, throbbing, spreading like ripples in a pool of water. Sleep had come with some difficulty the previous night, and what little sleep he’d gotten was restless and short lived. The lack of adequate rest left his muscles feeling sore, his body drained, and his temper especially short fused.

Life would not wait for him and neither would his duties. So Cullen had abandoned all attempts at sleep and had returned to work before even the sun dared show its face. His very bones resisted full cooperation, and still he had managed to get a lot done already. Somedays the lyrium withdraw was unbearable, leaving him unable to get out of bed. The memories would consume him and he would be back in that tower, back in the Void. He could hear the screams all over again, could see the death.

His every muscle felt tight. His bones felt like they needed to be popped, but even after every knuckle had been cracked the discomfort remained. This was not his worst day, he could persevere. There were men and women looking to him for direction, there were things that still needed to be done. He could bear his pain in silence, ignore it, allow it to go unnoticed like he had many times before. He just pitied the soldiers that chose this day to not perform their duties to the standard he typically demanded from them. Today was not the day to upset him, unfortunately it also meant that today would be the day with the most mistakes made.

Andraste give me patience. He had a league long list of things that needed to be done before the day’s end, and not enough time to get them all done. Wiping the pinch from his furrowed eyebrows, Cullen sucked in a deep breath and tried to refocus on the task at hand. The only way he was going to get all of this done was by properly delegating each item on the list.

There was a constant flow of soldiers rotating from his side, taking his orders and hurrying to complete them. Before long Cullen was falling back into step with his duties, relearning the rhythm of things; since withdraw always seemed to abduct his ability to properly multitask.

Signing the bottom of a report, he handed it back to the soldier that had given it to him and instructed them to return it to the sender. His attention was pulled from the soldier’s replying salute, over their shoulder to where the Tevinter mage was approaching him. There was a smirk toying at the corners of Dorian’s lips, barely hidden behind his neatly maintained mustache.

Cullen let out a long sigh, and fought back the amusement that was already starting to spark inside of him. He and the mage had only spoken on a few different occasions, but Cullen had seen that look enough times to know that nothing good would come of the conversation that they were about to have.

Dorian walked with an arrogant saunter, knowing that he was drawing gazes and not caring that some of those gazes were disgusted. He approached Cullen’s work station and leaned casually against it. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, and a rolled up piece of parchment paper was held in his hand in nonchalant offering.

“I’ve a message for you,” he stated, his tone ever glibful, the sparkle in his green eyes full of delighted roguishness. Dorian wiggled the parchment between his fingers, goading Cullen to take it. “Straight from our spy master herself.”

When Cullen reached for the message he was relieved that Dorian didn’t snatch it away like he’d half expected him to. He unrolled the paper and, as he read over the message, asked, “You’re delivering messages now, Ser Pavus?” Glancing up past his brow to meet Dorian’s impish gaze, Cullen commented, “Your style is a bit flashier than the people usually under Leliana’s employ.”

“It’s a curse,” Dorian agreed with a regrettable sigh, “to be a handsome as I. I’d tell you that there is no such thing as too much attention but, alas, it would be a lie.”

Cullen shook his head, rolling his eyes at the other man’s outrageous behavior. Feeling proud of himself for pulling the desired reaction out of Cullen, Dorian laughed before he explained the truth behind his purpose. “I needed to stretch my legs a bit. Our spy master’s squawking crows can get a bit grating after too long. I also hoped to speak to the Inquisitor.”

Pulling his attention from Cullen, Dorian gave the lower courtyard a thorough look before glancing back at the Commander. Quirking a curious eyebrow, he wondered, “You haven’t, by any chance, seen her about; have you?”

He shook his head in answer. Cullen had been busy working, too involved in getting through the long list of things to be done to even think of anything else. Now that Dorian mentioned Delani, he tried to think of whether or not he’d seen her. Distracted by work or not, busy as he was, if Delani had crossed his path he would have remembered it.

Skyhold was enormous, with countless places to hide, even so there were a few places Cullen knew Delani visited more frequently than others. Thinking of such a place, he suggested, “Have you checked with Solas? She spends a great deal of time speaking with him.”

Dorian’s immaculately kept eyebrows shot toward his hairline. Tilting his head with intrigue, the mage wondered, “Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, Commander?”

Taken aback by Dorian’s question, Cullen shook his head and blinked hard. Jealous? What in the Maker’s perfect plan did he have to be jealous about? “What?” he coughed, feeling heat start to burn under his cheeks and on the round tips of his ears.

“No,” he said too quickly, only further validating Dorian’s accusation. He stumbled over his own words as he tried to amend the mess the mage had turned him into. “I was just making an observation—“

The expression on Dorian’s tanned features was teasing. His smirk was devilish, his eyes alight with a taunting laugh that didn’t quite make it out of him. “Oh, you’re blushing,” the other man cooed as though Cullen were a small, helpless animal. Smirk growing into an all out grin, Dorian continued to relentlessly tease him. “Someone alert the masses. The commander of the Inquisition has a crush.”

Narrowing his eyes dangerously at the other man, Cullen growled in warning. “I will end you, Pavus.”

A boisterous laugh sounded from Dorian, discrediting Cullen’s threat. Shrugging off Cullen’s glare, he gave the Commander’s shoulder a friendly pat before rebuking, “I should be so lucky.”

Cullen shook his head and sighed again. He rubbed his temple, fighting back the migraine that had unsurprisingly worsened with the mage’s arrival. Eyes firmly clasped shut, he sucked in a long deep breath before reopening his eyes and returning to the purpose of Dorian’s visitation.

“I have not seen the Inquisitor yet today,” he informed him, maintaining an appearance of professionalism that only served to deepen Dorian’s smirk. Narrowing his eyes at the other man, Cullen finished, “If that changes I will be sure to let her know that you wish to speak with her.”

Grinning, Dorian replied, “Would you please?” To the sharp look that his tone earned him, Dorian pushed himself off of Cullen’s work station and gave him a small smile. With a flippant wave of his hand, he laughed, “Do try not to overwork yourself, Commander.” and left Cullen to tend to the rest of his duties.

Resting his fists on the table before him, Cullen’s knuckles gave his weight purchase as he tried to calm the pain pulsating through his head. Each throb was like a roll of thunder, and he grit his teeth as all he could do was wait for it to pass. Before he knew it, there was another soldier at his side, with another report in need of a signature, and another order needed to be handed out.

He lifted himself back up and accepted the report. Just like that, Cullen stepped back into flow of things and returned to work. Before he knew it, an hour had already passed, and he had checked several items off of the day’s itinerary.

To one of the soldiers standing at his side, he instructed, “Send men to scout the area. We need to know what’s out there.”

They replied with a salute and a militant, “Yes sir!” before turning to do as they were told.

It took exactly half a second for the empty space to become occupied once again. “Commander, soldiers have been assigned temporary quarters.”

“Very good,” Cullen replied, nodding in acceptance of the verbal report. He quickly moved on to the next order of business, hoping to get through at least half of his list before hunger demanded that he take a break. “I’ll need an update on the armory as well.”

He felt the soldier still standing at his side, lingering as though he’d been given expressed permission to dally. Giving the man a hard look, Cullen clarified, “Now!”

The soldier scampered off like a kicked cat, and Cullen watched him leave only to have his attention pulled to Delani. The woman was steadily approaching, a smile on her lips as turned her head and watched the berated soldier run to go fulfill his orders.

His heart swelled at the sight of her, nerves prickling at his gut. She was dressed casually, her clothes of Dalish make. The fabric hugged her slight frame and accentuated her feminine curves.The colors were earthy, shades of green and brown that brought out not only the lovely color of her skin, but the brilliant shine of her sea green eyes, and the auburn of her hair. She looked ethereal, and he was breathless.

Delani returned her attention to him, her smile bigger now as she'd closed the distance remaining between them. Holding her hands behind her back she looked over the table in front of him, peeking at the million things that still needed to be done.

Feeling himself start to blush, Cullen cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck before also looking down at the table. Remembering that she was now his superior, he took the opportunity to debrief her on how he was progressing. “We set up as best we could at Haven. But could never prepare for an arch demon, or whatever it was. With some warning we might have—“

A melodic laugh sounded from Delani, ripping his attention back to her. She met his gaze, an eyebrow quirked in scolding, and wondered, “Do you ever sleep?”

He couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by her comment when it was accompanied by that smile. Refusing to validate her question with an answer, he continued, “If Corypheus strikes again we might not be able to withdraw. And I wouldn’t want to.”

Cullen thought about what happened at Haven, how unprepared they had been. He hadn’t expected an attack, at least not one of that scale. People payed for that mistake with their lives, and it was not a mistake that he would be making a second time. Tightening his fists with determination, he said, “We must be ready. Work on Skyhold is underway. Guard rotations established, we should have everything on course within the week. We will not run from here, Inquisitor.”

“Delani,” she corrected, a goading laugh in her green eyes. “Say it with me, Commander; Del-an-ee.”

Refusing to submit so easily, Cullen met her part way, “Lady Lavellan.”

After sighing in disappointment, she hummed, accepting the update as satisfactory. Looking around at the bustling lower courtyard, Delani absently wondered, “How many were lost?”

“Most of our people made it to Skyhold.” he assured her, noticing the somberness that was darkening her beautiful eyes. She was taking every lost life personally, as though their deaths were her fault alone. Cullen couldn’t allow her to think like that. They’d made it out of Haven, so many people still had their lives, and that was largely in thanks to her.

Holding her gaze, he observed, “It could have been worse. Moral was low, but has improved greatly since you took the role of Inquisitor.”

A scoff sounded from her at that. Delani shook her head, her eyes wide with wariness. He could tell with a look what she was thinking. It was another title she didn’t feel she deserved, and she couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Inquisitor Lavellan?” she wiped a hand down her face before rubbing her fingers into her eyes. “It sounds strange, don’t you think?”

He offered her an encouraging smile before replying, “Not at all.”

Delani scoffed again, her eyebrow arched with curiosity, “Is that the official response?”

His smile grew when he shrugged. “I suppose it is.”

Straightening his stance, Cullen perched his hands on the pommel of his sword as he regarded her. He could understand her uncertainty, and could appreciate that it would take time for her to fully accept her new role, but he also knew that there truly was none more deserving.

Making sure the sincerity he felt could be heard in his voice, he said, “But it’s the truth. We needed a leader and you have proven yourself.”

“Thank you, Cullen,” she replied, a lack of conviction in her tone, even if she did appear to be grateful for his words. Shuffling her feet, Delani suddenly appeared a touch nervous. Her eyes met his quickly before breaking again, and he felt his curiosity grow at the sight of her strange behavior.

Wringing her hands, Delani cautiously started, “Our escape from Haven,” she glanced off to the side, as though she were having a hard time holding his gaze. Rolling her shoulders she straightened her spine and forced her eyes to meet his before continuing. “It was close. I’m relieved that you—that so many made it out.”

This uncertainty, her nervousness, it was completely out of her character as he knew it. Delani was comprised mostly of snark and secondly by sass. She did not wilt from an opportunity to make a joke, and yet now she was. Her change intrigued him, and endeared him as well.

Cullen opened his mouth, meaning to say something of worth, but instead muttered a lame, “As am I.”

She nodded once, acknowledging his lackluster rebuttal with a sigh. Delani bit into her lower lip, looking as if she wanted to say more but, in the end, decided against it. When she nodded again it was in farewell, excusing herself from the conversation and allowing him to get back to work.

Before she could turn away from him, Cullen reached out to her. His fingers wrapped around her delicate wrist and then trailed down to caress her thin fingers. He cursed at himself for having decided to wear gloves. The damn leather was keeping his skin from hers, preventing him from learning if she was as soft as he imagined her to be. Everything about her was so dainty, and still she was this magnificent woman that he’d always thought could only be found in fairy tales and legends.

He didn’t release her hand when he next spoke, couldn’t bring himself to break the contact, of having at the very least the pleasure of touching her. “You stayed behind.” He whispered, still able to feel the dread he’d endured that night. Shutting his eyes, he tightened his hold on her hand, reminding himself that she was alive and well. “You could have…”

Opening his eyes, Cullen met Delani’s green gaze and wondered how a color so brilliant could even exist. Setting his jaw with determination, Cullen swore to her, “I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again. You have my word.”

Delani’s gaze fell from his and moved to his hand holding hers. A smile unearthed over her lips, brightening her features. She squeezed his hand before looking back up to him. There was devilment in her eyes and he had to bite back a groan —and fight off a grin— at the sight of it.

“I sure do hope so, vhenan’ara,” she retorted, a snicker in her voice. “Because this cat is running out of lives.”

Sighing in response to the ruined moment, Cullen allowed her hand to fall from his grasp and took a step back. Even as he fought the smile from his lips, he couldn’t help it when a chuckle snuck into his voice. “Then I suppose we will have to make the most of the few you have left.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but a soldier approached and handed him another report, effectively cutting her off. Cullen accepted the report and returned his attention to her, hoping that she would finish the thought she’d been unable to start. To his disappointment she smiled again, another goodbye.

“A mountain of reports is as likely to kill me as any thousand year old Tevinter magister.” She took a step back, as though the paperwork in his hand was a deadly snake ready to strike. Looking over her shoulder for a way out, she grumbled, “I’m sure there’s adventure to be had somewhere around here.”

When Delani looked back at Cullen it was with a departing wave. “I’ll leave you to it, Commander.” Turning on her heel, she said with a laugh, “Do try not to have too much fun.”

As he watched her swaying hips move further and further away from him, Cullen suddenly remembered that Dorian had been asking after her. Shrugging he turned around and returned to his duties. He was fairly certain that the two would find each other eventually.

 It had been unrealistic to think that she could avoid the paperwork forever. Delani had been in the middle of hearing one of Bull’s stories when a runner had sheepishly informed her that she was needed in the war room ‘without delay’. Being Inquisitor meant a lot of things to a lot of people, but it should have meant “don’t bother me with paperwork” above all else. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case, and was the reason Delani was dragging her feet toward the war room.

There was a constant din in Skyhold’s main hall as reconstruction was done to its structure. For the most part, the roofing had already been replaced, but the wood had to be checked for mites, rot, or any kind of weakness, which then had to be replaced. There was a lot of work that needed to be done before the place looked presentable. But, as it was, it was off to a good start.

Delani nodded in acknowledgment of all the greetings she received as she passed. She could feels eyes follow her as she walked through the hall, people constantly gauging her worth, questioning her merit, observing her closely in search of fault and flaws. She straightened her back as she headed to the war room, bearing the weight of all of their gazes. She’d never anticipated being made into the Inquisitor, but she would do her best with the title and it would have to be enough for the whole lot of them.

Josephine’s office was empty when she walked through it. The beautiful Antivan woman was already waiting for her in the war room, a pile of reports nestled on her clipboard, a candle down at half-mast, burned shorter with the hours of work that had already been done.

Delani shook her head as she pushed past the door exiting Josie’s office. Her advisors didn’t know how not to work, and Cullen was the guiltiest of them all. A smile lifted her features at the thought of the Commander. She looked down at her hand, the hand he had held while swearing to protect her. That was what he’d meant, she was sure of it. What she wasn’t sure of was whether he’d meant it as the Commander to the Inquisitor, or as a man to a woman he felt romantically attracted to and protective over.

Her heart flipped in her chest, giddy with the prospect. What were the odds that that was the way he felt? Her smile fell as she honestly considered it. If she was honest with herself, the odds weren’t good. Would a human ever see her as anything more than an elf? Yes, he thought that she was the Herald of Andraste, but the title didn’t clip her ears or make her less elven. He thought her worthy of being Inquisitor, but did he think her worthy of anything else? Of him?

And even if he did, Cullen was so professional. He refused to address her by her first name. Even if him having feelings for her was possible, him acting on them wasn’t.

Why would she even assume that he had feelings for her anyway? Because of the way he had held her hand? She hadn’t imagined the gentleness of his touch, but she had imagined the intent behind it. The man probably took her flirtations as teasing, and had no intention of allowing them to become anything more than that. She needed to return her focus to her new duties. Dwelling on her unrequited feelings couldn’t come before her responsibilities as Inquisitor.

Setting her jaw she opened the door to the war room and greeted her advisors professionally. Her gaze lingered only a moment too long on Cullen before she managed to move on to the women standing at his sides. Approaching the war table, she winced inwardly at the sight of all the markers that needed to be addressed.

Delani sighed through her nose, steeling her resolve. Voice full of forced enthusiasm, she wondered, “What do we have?” and rubbed her hands together as though the friction would suddenly make all of this more appealing.

“We need resources, we can set up a memorial in Haven, there are people that we need to find, and research that needs to be done.” Leliana replied, her eyes glittering under the shadow of her hood. “Take your pick.”

Staring down at the dozens upon dozens of markers on both the Ferelden map, and the map of Orlais, Delani let out a long and defeated sigh. Dragging her nails through her hair, she ruffled the strands and blew her bangs out of her face. “Alright,” she couldn’t even force her enthusiasm anymore. “Then let’s get started.”

With her reluctant consent to dive into the unending chasm of mission reports, requisitions, and messages from outreaching nobles, her three advisors didn’t hold back. They worked their way through every operation on the table, every detail that demanded her attention, and every assignment that needed her approval. She’d had a taste of this when she’d only been the Herald of Andraste. Now that she was the Inquisitor a mere ‘taste’ was a long forgotten memory of better times.

Several hours later they weren’t even a quarter of the way done with everything that needed to be attended to. After much insistence on Delani’s part, a bottle of wine was opened and snacks were carted in from the kitchen. The only way that she was going to get through all of this nonsense was if she was good and drunk. Unfortunately, she also knew that belligerent drunkenness wasn’t an option, so instead she settled on toeing the line of tipsy and not being inebriated enough.

When a messenger entered the room, yet another report in hand, Delani had to fight off a groan. This was a part of her job now, whether she liked it or not. The faster she got all of this nonsense taken care of, the faster she was able to get back onto the field and out of this boring circular room where hopes and dreams went to die.

Leliana accepted the report and dismissed the messenger. She opened the letter, and her expression turned into unreadable stone. There was a tick in her jaw and, when she looked up to meet the question in Delani’s eyes, she shifted her weight uncomfortably.

Feeling a sudden weight press down on the room, when Delani asked, “What’s wrong?” Leliana handed the message over to her. She reached across the table and pulled the message from the spy master’s grasp. Her heart sank as she read what was scribed on the paper.

“Clan Lavellan is being attacked by bandits,” Leliana explained to the others as Delani read and reread the message. “They’re requesting our assistance.”

Crumpling the paper, Delani heatedly inserted, “And they will have it.” Brows furrowed with determination, Delani breathed through her nose as she tried to calm her racing heart. Her clan was in danger, her people were being threatened by bandits, and she wasn’t there to protect them.

The threat had to be great for them to reach out to the Inquisition, to ask a predominantly human organization for assistance; even if she was seated at its head. Dalish clans clashed with bandits all of the time, it was just another part of their lives. The hunters stood against such threats on a daily basis. For her clan to ask for help meant that it wasn’t a threat that they could handle on their own, it was greater than any threat that they’d faced before. And she wasn’t there.

Her stomach sank at the thought of all the lives that would be lost if she failed to act, if she made a single misstep. Clan Lavellan was more than a hundred strong. There were children, infants, families just being formed. All of their lives, every last one of them, were now being faced with death and she was halfway across the map.

Delani’s nails were digging into her palm, she was clenching her fist so tight that blood was staining the balled up parchment. What was the point of her even becoming the Inquisitor if she couldn’t protect her own flesh and blood? She’d taken the title for the best interest of her people and her kind, yet the threat remained looming over their heads and she was as far away from them as she could be.

“I’m going,” she said, her mind made. She had become Inquisitor for the sake of bettering the lives of her clan and all elven kind alike, but she wouldn’t stay if it meant that her family was destroyed by her negligence. “I’ll deal with this issue myself.”

Her advisors shared wary glances, a silent communication passing between the three humans as they fully took in her meaning. She just accepted the role of Inquisitor. She hadn’t even fully worn the weight of the title yet. Delani leaving so soon would appear more akin to fleeing.

“You can’t—“ Leliana started, only to be cut off by Delani’s dangerously narrowed glare.

“Watch me,” she tossed the crumpled message onto the war table and turned sharply on her heel

Leliana’s voice followed after her, finishing the statement Delani had been so quick to interrupt. “You can’t go after them yourself, but we do have the resources to ensure the continued safety of your clan.” When Delani turned around, her eyebrow arched in question, the spy master reminded her, “You’re the Inquisitor now. You have people at your disposal.”

From Cullen’s other side, Josephine added, “While we can’t concede to you running off to help your people, all of us would be more than happy to help you in this matter.”

Delani narrowed her eyes at the Antivan. She was not ‘running off’ she was doing what right, what had always been her responsibility. Resources at her disposal or no, her first instinct was always to help her people herself. She would accept their assistance, but she couldn’t accept staying behind.

“Fine,” she curtly replied, a bit more venom in her tone than she intended. “Give me some men, and I’ll personally put our resources to use.”

Again Leliana spoke up, saying exactly what Delani didn’t want to hear. “You have other, more pressing, matters to attend to and—”

“More pressing to whom?” Delani snapped, completely taken aback that she would even dare to say such a thing. Taking a threatening step toward the hooded woman, Delani reminded her —incase she’d forgotten— “These are my people!”

“We understand, Inquisitor,” Cullen’s voice was soothing when he spoke out, hoping to calm the tension filling the room. His golden eyes met and held hers, his expression lulling, placating, assuring her that they didn’t take this matter as lightly as Leliana was making it seem like they did. “And we won’t allow any harm to befall your people.”

Reaching across the table, he picked up the crumpled piece of paper and carefully smoothed it back out. With his gentle golden eyes back on Delani, he insisted, “Allow me to take care of this, Inquisitor. I will send men, our best, and we will make sure that your clan is safe.”

Delani bit her lip, undecided. Her nerves were still grated from how Leliana had so flippantly disregarded her clan’s importance, how easily she’d cast them aside for ‘more pressing matters’. She could tell by the look in Cullen’s amber eyes that he wouldn’t take this task lightly, that he would honestly do whatever had to be done to make sure that her people were safe. His handsome expression was set, certain, a plan already being laid out should she accept his request. If there was anyone that she could trust with this it was Cullen.

She glared at Leliana for a moment, making sure that the human knew that she had crossed a line and that Delani would not soon forget. Moving her attention to Cullen, she nodded curtly. “I’m trusting you with this, Cullen.”

He nodded once, determination in the motion. “I will not fail you, Inquisitor.”

Though she appreciated his assurance, she needed to be sure he knew just how much she needed him to succeed, how much this task meant to her, how important it was that he truly not fail her. “These people are my family, Commander. There are children in my clan, infants, innocents. Don’t let them be killed.”

His jaw ticked as he fully realized the responsibility, though the confidence didn’t leave his eyes. Cullen knew that he could do this, and all he wanted in turn was for her to trust him. “My men will protect them, you have my word.”

“That’ll have to be enough,” she said to herself, unable to repress the feeling of dread that was weighing down on her stomach. When she looked back up to meet the gazes of her war council, Delani sighed through her nose and rolled her shoulders. They’d been locked in the circular room for hours already, they’d gotten done as much as they could in one sitting, and Delani didn’t feel like being cooped up for one second longer.

“I think we’re done for today.” Without waiting for them to either agree or disagree, she turned for the door and dismissed herself. “If you need me I’ll be at the stables.”

Delani left the war room in a hurry, not waiting for any of her advisors to stop her escape. The day had started off well enough. She would have never guessed that it would have turned out this way. It felt wrong sending someone else to help her clan, when she was perfectly capable of doing so herself. But she trusted Cullen. He would be true to his word, he would make sure her people were safe.

Whatever his feelings were for her, whether they were romantic or not, he would do his job. That much she knew, and it was why she’d let him take this responsibility from her; even if it pained her to do so.

Leaving the main hall, Delani shoved the thoughts from her mind with a sigh. There was nothing that she could do now but wait. Perhaps giving Cornelius a good brushing would help ease her nerves. At the very least the hart was a very good listener.

Chapter Text

Blackwall had given her the idea. Deciding to go visit the Grey Warden, she’d walked in on him working some wood into the shape of a griffon rocker. It was just something to keep the children busy, he’d told her, almost abashed by the admission, as if she could find the gesture anything less than heartbreakingly thoughtful. Ever since their conversation, she hadn’t been seen without a small hunk of wood in hand, carving knife picking a shape into the block.

Already she had more than a dozen figurines. There were horses, bears, lions, soldiers, and figures from the Elvhen pantheon. She’d sanded them down as best she could, remembering the technique her father had taught her so many years ago. The last time she’d worked wood had been when she was a teenager. Almost a decade later, she was surprised that she’d retained the lessons as well as she had. Admittedly these small trinkets were nothing compared to what she used to make, but they would do just fine.

Snatching her pack up off of the floor of her bedchambers, Delani swiped the wooden figures off of her bed and into the pack’s open mouth. She hoped that she’d made enough, if anything she would just make more and go back later. Confident that she had everything she needed, Delani straightened her tunic and left her bedchambers in a hurry. Excitement put an extra bounce in her step, filling her with a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long while; one she couldn’t identify just yet, but had missed none the less.

She zipped through the main hall, returning greetings with polite smiles as she ran for the open doors. There wasn’t time for sophisticated conversation at the moment; well there was, she just had better things to do. She wasn’t planning to be back in Skyhold long, but she intended to make the most of what little time she had. Spending it gossiping with nobles was not on her agenda.

Delani glided down the steps, walked a little further and descended another stairwell. Once she was in the lower courtyard she made a beeline for the open gate. There was an encampment just outside of Skyhold where the workers under the Inquisition’s employ were living. It was a dreary place in comparison to Skyhold, dirt roads worn into the mountain side, the smell of too many bodies living too close together filling the air.

She’d already approved more than a dozen requisitions to improve the living conditions in the encampment, and was pushing to make it a priority. With so many things that still needed to be done, it was too easy for the encampment’s needs to be forgotten or pushed back to make room for more pressing matters. It wouldn’t last forever, but while these people waited for the Inquisition’s attention, she felt like there was more that she could be doing herself.

The smell hit her first, and Delani did her best to ignore it. It wasn’t overwhelming or sickening, but it did make her stomach drop. People were living like this, her people. More than just elves; humans, dwarves, a handful of qunari, they’d all come to the Inquisition seeking hope and purpose. They’d left their homes and their livelihoods, trusting that the Inquisition, that she, would lead them to a better tomorrow. This was what their lives had become. These tents made of cloth and rope were their homes, and still they managed to smile and invest their faith in the banner they served.

They all deserved better, they all deserved more, and she would give them exactly that. While she couldn’t snap her fingers and summon a town into being, there was something that she could do. Children had come with their parents, towed along to serve the Inquisition. All they knew were the soldiers and the inspirational banner that decorated every inch of Skyhold. If there was something that she could do to make their days just a bit more enjoyable, then that was exactly what she would do.

Following the sound of childish laughter, it didn’t take long for her to find the whelps running through the tents, kicking a ball made of burlap and string. A smile unraveled at the sight of them. Delani remembered being their age. It had always been so easy to make anything into a toy, to turn anything into a game. There was so much wonderment in being a child, she envied their youth and the freedoms of their age.

Kicking the ball with a bit too much force, one of the children sent the ball rolling toward where Delani was standing. Lifting the toe of her boot off of the ground, she stopped the ball and kneeled down to pick it up. The children were quick to come up to her, hoping to retrieve the ball before she took it away from them or scolded them for playing when the adults had so much work to do.

Playfully pursing her lips, Delani tucked the ball between her hip and arm and stared down at the handful of kids surrounding her. Casually leaning her weight on her hip, she wondered, “How many of you want to play a game?”

The children all looked at each other for a moment, surprised by the question. They looked back at her as though she’d sprouted wings and a lion’s tail, she was some strange creature, not an adult like their parents. Before long every single one of their hands shot up with a recurring, “Me, me, me!” shouting from them.

Delani lifted her hand, silencing their mantra, and her smile grew. There were only a handful of them present and there was no possible way that these were all the children in camp. Smile turing encouraging, she instructed them to, “Gather all the children in camp. I want each of you to bring back at least one other child. Once all of you are here we’ll play some games and I’ll give away prizes.”

“There are prizes?” a small voice cried out excitedly.

Nodding, she untucked her arm from the strap of her pack and swung it to her side for easier access. Delani pulled free the first figure her fingers touched, which happened to be as close as she could get to a griffon. Small jaws fell at the sight of the toy, giddy excitement making every last one of them jittery all of a sudden.

She put the griffon back in her pack before waving them off. “Go,” she said with a laugh, “I want a whole army of children here by the time all of you are back.”

Delani should have been more careful with her request. She’d asked for an army of children and that was exactly what she’d gotten. What pulled a smile onto her face though, was more than the fact that they’d sought out as many children as possible, but also that they hadn’t restricted their search to human children. There were more than a few wide eyed elven children in the bunch, and they’d been recruited simply for the fact that they were children.

Looking at all of them encircling her made it painfully obvious that she hadn’t made nearly enough figurines for all of them. It was a damn good thing that she knew a handful of great games, because they would have to be prizes unto themselves. The next time she did this she would need to plan it better.

“Alright,” said Delani, tossing the ball into the air only to catch it again. Scanning over the children, she wondered, “Who knows how to play ‘Catch the Fennec’?” Her smile grew with satisfaction when not a single hand shot up. Unsurprising, as it was a Dalish game. A new game meant that it would be more fun, and they would enjoy it all the more.

Excited for all the trouble that would soon unfold, Delani grinned as she said, “Let’s start with the rules.”

Hours later they’d played every single game from her childhood, they taught her a few of their own games, and together made up some of their own. Delani had taught them Dalish nursery rhymes and handed out prizes to anyone who could solve her riddles. The children’s parents, soldiers, and damn near everyone would sit and stare for a while, fascinated by the elf making a fool of herself and playing with the children. Most didn’t recognize her as the Inquisitor, but when a few did word spread quickly.

The children didn’t care who she was, or what title she bore. To them, she was just the fun woman with games to play and toys to give. There were a great many things that she missed about her clan, but the thing that topped that list was the sound of children at play. If rolling around in the mud, chasing after a crudely put together ball, or making up a ridiculous riddle meant hearing their laughter, she didn’t have it in her to feel ashamed.

At least they’d never accuse her of being boring.

He didn’t quite believe it when he heard that the Inquisitor was in the encampment outside of Skyhold, playing in the mud. The stir it caused was difficult to ignore, though. Cullen had been in his office, attempting to catch up on the mountain of paperwork that had built up over the course of the day, when the gossip had become impossible to ignore for a moment longer.

“Commander,” one of his soldiers had said, leaning into his office with all thoughts of professional propriety thrown to the wind. A grin on her lips, she’d said, “You have to see this.”

Too focused on his work to notice his soldier’s lack of professionalism, or to bother getting up to see what ‘had’ to be seen, he’d sighed, “What is it?” and hoped that the soldier would let him return to his business.

She’d replied with a poorly disguised giggle. “It’s the Inquisitor.”

Focus pulled from the paperwork scattered over his desk, Cullen’s brows furrowed with curiosity as he pushed himself out of his seat and followed the soldier out of his office. The girl led him onto the battlements and pointed his attention to the encampment below. He’d stepped up beside her and followed her gesturing finger only to find a whole squadron of children chasing after an auburn haired elf.

“Maker,” he said to himself, a smile starting to surface on his lips. “What is she doing?”

Still standing beside him, the soldier supplied, “If I had to guess, Sir, I’d say she’s playing.”

“I can see that, Rhen,” he replied with an exasperated shake of his head.

Shrugging, she struggled to keep the smile from her lips when she reminded him, “You asked, Sir.” They both watched the Inquisitor for a moment before she offhandedly wondered, “Should I call for the physician? Perhaps she hit her head or something.”

Taken aback by her question, Cullen looked at the soldier with surprise lifting his brows. “Maker’s breath, Rhen.” he said with a cough, “She’s playing with children, not a raving lunatic. Leave her be.”

“As you say, Commander,” she said, a smile in her voice.

Cullen returned his attention to the encampment, not noticing when Rhen excused herself and left him to stand there on his own. He stood watch on the battlements for some time, observing Delani as she ran to and fro with a horde children. Even this high on the wall, he could hear their laughter. A smile stretched over his lips. Curiosity combined with deep admiration warmed in his stomach.

While he didn’t know why she was doing what she was doing, he could appreciate the gesture all the same. The Inquisitor was setting aside appearances for the sake of children she didn’t even know. She didn’t care that she looked stark raving mad, all she cared about were those children.

The warmth spread in his chest, seeping like hot oil through his veins. Where had a woman like Delani even come from? How was it possible that such a woman could exist?

Before Cullen knew it the sun had shifted in the sky and an hour had gone by without his notice. His thoughtful admiring trance was broken by one of Leliana’s newer runners.

“Commander,” she shuffled her feet nervously when he turned his gaze on her, professing her lack of experience. “The Duke of Cumberland has just arrived and is demanding a meeting with the Inquisitor. He refuses to be made to wait.”

His hackles rose with the message. Who was this nobleman that he felt so inclined to make such demands of the Inquisitor?

“His family owns a large portion of the spice trade, Sir,” the messenger answered his unasked question before he could give voice to it. “He says he wants to talk about investing in the Inquisition.”

As much as Cullen hated how the nobleman had gone about his visitation, he couldn’t deny that the meeting had too much potential for them to let it slip through their fingers. Combing back his blond hair, Cullen glanced back at the encampment, where Delani was being pulled down to the ground by a legion of children demanding to ride on her back.

When the messenger cautiously asked, “Would you like me to get her?” Cullen shook his head and dismissed her with a professional, “It’s fine, I’ll inform the Inquisitor myself.”

The messenger acknowledged his statement with a fist over her heart before backing away and returning to her duties. Of all the days to have an impatient nobleman demanding to see the Inquisitor, it had to be the day she decided to play in the mud.

Appearances were everything in court and they didn’t have enough time to get Delani cleaned up. Another long sigh expelled from him as he left the battlements. If the nobleman wanted to speak to her so urgently he would just have to accept her how she was. If he took issue with it he could discuss his discontent with Cullen, who would happily put him in his place.

Cullen walked past Skyhold’s gates and into the pilgrims’ encampment. Puddles of melted snow and mud splashed under his boots as he strode towards the sound of children screaming and laughing. A smile struggled at the corners of his mouth when he strode past a few tents and found Delani with a child on her back, another on her hip, and one more hanging from her free arm, there were dozens more running circles around her scream-singing what he guessed to be a Dalish nursery rhyme.

Her sea green eyes met his and the smile that was already on her face grew at the sight of him. “Cullen!” she shouted, a laugh in her voice, her grin reaching her eyes. She adjusted her grip on the child on her hip, as he approached.

Once he was close enough, Delani introduced him to her army of children. “Children, this is Commander Cullen. He is in charge of the Inquisition’s forces.”

“That’s the soldiers!” one of the children shouted in needless explanation.

Nodding, Delani gestured that he was correct in his observation. “That’s right.”

Though he hated having to pull her away from the fun she was obviously having, Cullen knew that there was pressing business to attend to, and it couldn’t wait a moment longer than necessary. “Inquisitor—“

“Cullen, please, my name has only six letters.” To her fleet of children, she explained, “The Commander keeps forgetting my name. You should all remind him what it is.”

Her eyes didn’t leave his for a moment when the whole lot of them screamed in unison, “Delani!”

Foxy smirk twisting the corners of her mouth, she quirked an eyebrow in challenge before commenting, “See, Commander, easy.”

He fought back his smile, trying hard to maintain a professional appearance. Placing his hands on the pommel of his sword, Cullen straightened his shoulders and tried again, “Lady Lavellan,” a small smile did manage its way onto his face at the sight of Delani shaking her head in disappointment. “Something has come up, there is an important meeting that you are to attend without delay. If you would please accompany me, I’ll take you there straight away.”

The Inquisitor sighed heavily, this time with real disappointment. “The work never ends, does it?” she said to herself, before instructing the boys hanging from her to get back on their feet. She looked down at the little girl on her hip with a smile, and tucked her curly blonde hair behind a rounded ear. Placing the child back on the ground, Delani took a step toward Cullen before turning around to face her entourage.

“I have to get back to work, children.” A laugh spilled from her at the sound of their groaning. Placing her hands on her hips, Delani scolded them, “Now, now, none of that. I’ll be back again soon, with more prizes next time.” They rushed her like a litter of pups, wanting to hug her goodbye, telling her how much they’d miss her.

It was a sweet display, and Cullen was sorry that he’d cut their time together short. Perhaps next time she came to the encampment he would come with her, if only to see her with the children first hand. Seeing Delani like this warmed his heart straight down to his soul.

When she finally managed to pull away from the small hands grasping at her, Delani backed up until she was at Cullen’s side and then smiled up at him to signal that she was ready. Cullen just stared at her for a moment. Her hair was unkempt, there was a light layer of sweat covering her brow, and a smudge of dirt on her cheek; her eyes were bright with laughter, and there was a grin on her face. Delani Lavellan had to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He cleared his throat when he realized that he’d been staring for too long, and gestured for her to lead the way. She smiled softly at him before turning on her heel and pushing them forward. They started walking back towards Skyhold and she wondered, “What’s this meeting and who’s it with?”

“The Duke of Cumberland,” Cullen supplied, glancing down at the beautiful woman at his side. “He’s here to discuss investing coin into the Inquisition, and wanted to speak with you right away.”

Delani sighed, “That sounds important,” before looking down at herself. When she glanced back up at Cullen it was with a hopeful quirk of her eyebrow. “Do you think that I have time for a quick bath?”

Shaking his head, Cullen apologized, “Unfortunately, you do not. The Duke was very clear about his urgency.” Knowing that it wouldn’t solve anything, Cullen reached into his pocket anyway and retrieved the kerchief he usually kept there. Handing it to Delani he said, “It won’t help much but… here.”

She accepted the token with surprise in her voice, “Thank you, Cullen.” and started to wipe the dirt off of her face. Delani patted down her auburn hair in an attempt to straighten it out, combing the knots out with her fingers.

They reached the steps to the main hall before she stopped and turned to face him. Quickly glancing down at herself, she looked back up at Cullen and wondered, “How do I look?”

A smile wormed its way onto his lips as he regarded her. Her hair would need a brush in order for its natural shine to be restored, there was only the slightest tang of sweat coming from her, the smell inoffensive, but noticeable, and there was still a smudge of dirt streaked across her cheek. To him, she looked lovely, to a nobleman, she’d look a mess.

Lifting his hand to her face, Cullen paused just before touching her, searching her eyes for permission and waiting until he had it. Her eyes widened with surprise, but once Delani knew what he intended, she nodded for him to proceed. His heart leaped the second his skin met hers. She was warm under his fingertips, her skin soft as he wiped away the dirt from her cheek.

For a moment, Cullen became so enthralled by his task he forgot that they were standing in the middle of the courtyard. His focus was on the feel of her skin, the shape of her cheekbone, the enchanting design of her crimson colored vallaslin. His heart was drumming against his ears, beating wildly, excitedly, as he lost himself to her beauty.

Gaze wandering from her cheek, down the slope of her adorable nose, to the full shape of her lips, Cullen swallowed hard as he wondered how they would feel pressed against his own. What would she feel like pressed against him? Was all of her so warm? Andraste preserve him, he so desperately wanted answers to all of those questions. Her lips stretched into a heartbreaking smile, and Cullen’s eyes were pulled up toward hers. The sea green orbs were regarding him with amusement, teasing and joking in a way that belonged singularly to her.

With a laugh in her voice, Delani asked, “Did you get it?” and Cullen realized that his hand was now cupping her cheek.

Snatching his hand back, Cullen awkwardly returned it to his side, and coughed to hide his blushing cheeks. “I, erm… Yes, I got it.”

He glanced at Delani only to rip his gaze away again. She was smiling at him knowingly, as if she’d caught him doing something embarrassing. Why was it suddenly so hot out? They were on the peak of a mountain, for the Maker’s sake.

Clearing his throat, Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and tried to steer them back on track. “We’ve kept the Duke waiting long enough.”

“Right,” she agreed with a laugh, and followed after him when he started up the stairs. Keeping stride beside him, Delani was gracious enough to change the subject when she next spoke. “Have you received word about my clan yet?”

Cullen glanced down at Delani and apologetically shook his head. “Not yet,” he answered before assuring her, “But we should hear something soon.”

She sighed, but nodded that she understood. “I’ll just have to try and be patient, I suppose.”

Not wanting her to encumber herself with dreary thoughts, Cullen insisted, “Your family will be fine, my lady. I swear it.”

Delani looked up at him, hope in her eyes as she searched his face and found sincerity. Smile twitching at the edge of her mouth, she confessed, “I believe you.”

Those words meant more to him than he expected them to. She believed him. The lives of her people, her clan, her family were in danger and she was trusting him to protect them. She trusted that his men would keep them safe. She was trusting him with the most important thing to her. Cullen was humbled by hearing those words, and surprised by how much they meant to him.

They entered Josephine’s office, where the meeting would transpire, and found that everyone was already present. Josephine’s eyes widened with horror at the sight of Delani entering the room, her gaze immediately went to the Duke to catch his reaction. Cullen also followed her gaze, and his eyes narrowed at what he saw.

Though his face was covered by a mask, the Duke’s body language spoke volumes. His back was ramrod straight, his shoulders stiff, hands balled into tight fists at his sides. He was taking Delani’s lack of professional appearance personally, as an insult, as though she didn’t take the meeting seriously.

If Delani noticed the revulsion with which the Duke was regarding her, she pretended not to. Plastering a smile onto her face, she approached the Duke with an outstretched hand and gracefully returned it to her side when he refused to take it. “Duke of Cumberland, welcome to Skyhold. It’s an honor to have you with us.”

The Duke scoffed, turning his nose at Delani’s greeting. “An honor,” he challenged. “If this is the manner by which you greet an honored guest, then I feel for those who are not held in such high regard.”

Straightening her shoulders, Delani cooly replied, “Yes, well, it’s dirty work cleaning up everyone else’s messes.”

“Quite,” he replied, a sneer in his voice. Looking around at the others in the room, the Duke admitted, “I expected more from the Inquisition, though I suppose I shouldn’t have.” Pointed eyes returning to Delani, he finished, “You are Dalish, after all. Barbarians, the whole lot of you.”

Cullen’s jaw ached from how hard he was grinding his teeth. He took a step forward, intending to make the Duke eat his words, when Delani raised a hand and stopped him in his tracks. Her tone remained polite and professional when she spoke.

“You came here to talk business, did you not, Ser Duke?” Gesturing for them all to take a seat, she insisted, “Let us sit and get started.”

Reluctantly, he sat and the rest of them followed suit. It didn’t take long for Cullen to figure out that the nobleman was just stringing them all along. He’d probably traveled the distance just to see Delani for himself, as though she were some animal on display. Whenever Cullen would try to end the meeting, tired of wasting time, either Delani or Josephine would subtly motion for him to be patient. When the man started to take jabs at the Inquisitor, his patience for the Duke had finally reached its end.

“Honestly, how does the Inquisition intend to go anywhere with a knife ear as its leader?” he demanded. “How can you ask me to invest coin in a cause that cannot even take itself seriously?”

Snidely he added, “The Inquisition will fail if only because it will never be able to keep up appearances as long as this savage is in charge.”

Even though her features remained passive and calm, Cullen could tell that the Duke’s biting words were wearing on Delani. Her green eyes were hard masks, solid walls that kept anyone from knowing what was going on inside. The Duke was hurting her, and Cullen would not sit and watch for a moment longer.

“The Inquisition is not interested in your coin,” Cullen spat, standing from his chair and looming over the nobleman. “We did not invite you here. You came of your own vocation, and demanded to be greeted with ceremony that we were not prepared to give, and that you do not deserve.”

His anger grew with each word spoken. Who did this man think he was to speak to Delani in such a manner? She was the Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor, no one spoke to her like that no matter their title. “She may be an elf, but it is you who are the savage. You are an ignorant fool and you will leave Skyhold tonight. You are no longer welcome here.”

Gasping as though Cullen had run a sword through his chest, the Duke stammered for only a second before regaining his footing. “I will do no such thing—“

“You will,” Cullen growled, the threat clear in his voice. “You will either leave here voluntarily, or my soldiers will clear you out, either way you are not staying here for one more day.”

When it became obvious that there was no showboating his way out of this one, the Duke kicked back his chair and stood from his seat. Not bothering with a goodbye he stormed out of the room.

Rubbing her brow, Leliana murmured, “Good riddance.”

Josephine looked to Delani, her eyes pleading as she admitted, “I had no idea that he would act so terribly, Inquisitor. I am so sorry that you had to sit through that.”

The smile on Delani’s lips was polite. “It’s fine, Josie,” she said as she stood from her seat. Her eyes were still hard, her expression still unreadable, and Cullen hated that that noble bastard had managed to take the laughter from her eyes.

She dismissed herself from Josephine’s office and the advisors stayed behind for a moment longer. It was Leliana who broke the silence with a sighed, “Well, that could have gone better.”

Cullen disagreed. If it were up to him, it wouldn’t have happened at all.

A few hours later and Cullen was seated at his desk once again, trying one more time to get through the paperwork that had piled up on his desk. The pile had grown since he’d last attended to it. It was twice the size it had been before, and he was considering working straight through the night if it meant that he could manage to cut it in half. At least then he’d keep the nightmares away.

The wind carried a song through his open window, and Cullen’s attention was pulled from the papers scattered over his desk. It was soft, only the melody reaching him at his desk. He forced his attention back to his work, but the song continued and his curiosity got the best of him. Cullen stood from his chair and walked toward the open window, expecting to see nothing but the battlements shadowed by night. Instead he found the Inquisitor sitting on the ledge and staring out into the night.

Too intrigued to even bother sitting back down at his desk, Cullen opened the door to his office and stepped out into the night. Delani had stopped singing at the sound of the door opening, but didn’t acknowledge his approach until he was standing beside her.

She’d bathed since the last time he saw her. Her hair was shining under the moonlight, the smell of wildflowers reaching his nose and invigorating his senses. There was a chunk of wood in her hand, her carving knife out of its sheath and digging into the block. Already a form was starting to take shape, though he couldn’t tell yet what it was. Cullen stepped up to the ledge and leaned his elbows against it, glancing quickly at Delani before moving his gaze toward the horizon.

“I’m sorry for walking you into that today,” he said, genuinely upset with himself for allowing her to be berated by some pompous bigot undeserving of her time or attention. He should have spoken up sooner. He shouldn’t have taken her into the meeting at all.

Shaking her head, she replied, “It’s okay, Cullen. He didn’t say anything that I haven’t heard before. Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, it doesn’t matter. To some people I will never be anything more than an elf.” Her attention was on carving a shape into the wood and she didn’t look up from her task when she spoke. “I’m just sorry that we didn’t manage to take his gold.”

Cullen smiled at her jest and nodded in agreement. Giving her a sidelong glance, he moved his attention to the wood being worked in her hand. Curiously, he wondered, “A prize for the children?”

A smile inched over her lips as she nodded. She blew on the wood, clearing her workspace, before she answered, “I didn’t have enough for all of them. I need to make more for next time.”

“You plan on going back?” he asked, unsurprised considering how much she had appeared to have been enjoying herself when he’d had to pull her away.

“I do,” she admitted, a fond smile brightening her beautiful features.

Cullen stared at her for a moment, words escaping him. Blinking hard, he forced himself back into the conversation with the observation, “You’re good with the children.” He didn’t know why he found the fact so surprising, or so endearing, but it was one that he enjoyed all the same.

“I like kids,” she said, glancing at him before refocusing on her project. “They haven’t learned to hate yet.” Without looking away from the wood, she explained, “To them I’m just a woman with toys to give and games to play. I’m not a knife ear, I’m not a savage, I’m just Delani.”

Frowning that she would even say such a thing, Cullen insisted, “You’re not either of those things. You are a strong and capable woman. The Duke of Cumberland is an ignorant bastard who knows nothing about you. He doesn’t deserve to lick the ground you walk on.”

She grinned at Cullen then, making him blush under her amused gaze. “Commander Cullen,” she gasped, a laugh in her voice. “That has to be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed for having spoken so outright. Had he been too revealing with his words? Should he have chosen them more carefully? Before he could mumble a half thought reply she inched off of the ledge and back onto the battlements.

Delani stood before him, a grin still on her lips. “It’s getting late,” she said and disappointment started to spill through his veins. “I should probably return to my chambers.”

“Right,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck again in attempt to disguise his disappointment. “I have paperwork to finish,” he said more to himself, remembering the pile that still needed to be tended to.

Smiling up at him, she placed a hand on his bracer, before softly saying, “Good night, vhenan’ara.”

He bowed his head, “Good night, Del—“ Cullen caught himself before he could finish. Clearing his throat, he corrected, “Lady Lavellan.”

Smile turning departing, Delani swiveled around and left him on the battlements. He watched her go, staring after her longingly. She was breathtaking, and Cullen wondered whether or not he would ever be a man deserving of her. No, he concluded, not even if he lived a hundred lives he would never deserve a woman like her.

Chapter Text

Night was still lingering in the heavens, the sun still slumbering under the horizon, and Cullen was already awake. He’d gotten some sleep at least, not much but enough to get through the rest of the day. The nightmares had come again, not as bad as they typically were, but bad enough that the thought of going back to sleep made his stomach turn.

Cullen was seated at his desk, going over everything that needed to be done by the end of the day. Skyhold was slowly starting to come together. There was still so much to be done, but they’d made good headway already, and were progressing ahead of schedule. At this rate repairs would be completed in two months time at most. Others might have called it an overly hopeful estimation, but he knew that his confidence in his men was well placed.

As he sifted through paperwork, blueprints, and requisitions, his attention was stolen from his task by the sound of a light rapping at his door. He stared at the door for a second, surprised that anyone else was awake at this hour. He glanced out the window, thinking that maybe he’d lost track of time, but no, darkness still prevailed in the morning sky.

Curious, he stood from his desk and strode toward the door. The heavy door swung inward with a creak, revealing the Inquisitor standing on the other side. Cullen took a moment to look over her, making sure that she was fine. She was fully dressed in her medium weight armor, a cloak made of fine green fabric on her shoulders and protecting her from the cold. She looked as though she were about to leave for another assignment, but that couldn’t have been the case. She, Solas, Cole, and Blackwall had only just returned the night before.

Auburn brows were deeply furrowed, her features serious in a way that he was unfamiliar with. Delani’s lips were thin, humorless, and her jaw was clenched tightly. Her expression was hard and difficult to read, but her eyes were expressive and he knew right away that something was wrong.

“Lady Lavellan,” he said, his surprise preventing him from voicing a proper greeting. “Is everything alright?”

Her nostrils flared when she took a deep breath. Delani looked away from him quickly, as if searching for strength elsewhere before meeting his gaze once again. When she spoke her tone was level, inexpressive, not even a hint of a joke in the undercurrents of her voice. “Do you have a moment, Commander?”

“Of course,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing for her to enter his office.

When she strode in Cullen shut the door behind her and turned to watch as she paced the length of the room. Something was definitely wrong. She never acted like this. Delani was controlled, even when drenched in snark she knew exactly what she was doing and how to elicit the desired response from everyone around her. She did not pace, and she certainly was never up before the sun if she didn’t have to be.

He opened his mouth to repeat his earlier question, but she spoke before him, cutting him off with a question of her own.

“Have you received word from my clan yet?” She stopped pacing. Standing in the center of the room she glanced in his direction before turning away, her shoulders tense as though she were bracing herself for his answer.

Cullen’s stomach dropped, knowing that she wouldn’t like his answer. “Not yet.” Before she could react, he assured her, “But we should hear something soon. We must continue to be patient.”

A huff sounded from Delani, the noise making it painfully clear that patience was not a virtue that she was familiar with. Her fingers rolled into tight fists at her sides, but she didn’t press the issue anymore than that. Turning her body to face him, she wondered, “Are you busy?”

“I, um, erm—“ the question caught him off guard. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, quickly peeking back at his desk and considering the papers scattered along its surface. Technically no, he wasn’t busy; not yet at least. Everything he’d done until now was mostly busy work, him keeping himself occupied until the day officially commenced.

Deciding that perhaps it was best to see what exactly it was the Inquisitor wanted before answering that question, he wondered, “Did you need something?”

She nodded once, the gesture curt as she answered, “To borrow you.”

His heart leapt in his chest. How often had he imagined her saying those words to him, but it was never like this. In his mind, her lips were curled with her typical mischief, her sea green eyes alight with an infectious laugh. At present she was the most serious he had ever seen her, and the difference was disconcerting.

“To borrow me?” He asked, surprised by her request and unsure what she meant by it. “For how long? There is much to be done today, most of which will need my direct supervision.”

Green eyes hardening, Delani instructed him to, “Put it off. You’re coming with me.” Seeming to recognize the aggressiveness of her instructions, she softened her voice and added, “Please?”

Brow arching with cautious curiosity, Cullen asked, “Going where with you? Why are you dressed in your armor?” Even if agreeing to go with Delani was exactly what he wanted to do, he knew that he had responsibilities that he couldn’t be pulled away from; not even by the Inquisitor herself.

Glancing down at her armor, Delani met Cullen’s gaze again and she explained. “We’re going on a hunt.” To the surprised look that took his features, she continued, “It always helps to clear my mind.”

He could understand that, but there was still one thing that he didn’t understand. “Okay,” he drawled out, uncertain what exactly it was she expected from him. “Why do you need me for that? Isn’t there someone else that you could take with you?”

“Sure,” she shrugged only to immediately discard his question. “But I’m asking you.” Holding his gaze, when Cullen didn't reply with his instantaneous consent, Delani sighed and dragged a gloved hand down her face. “If you truly don’t want to go, then I will ask someone else, but I would prefer it to be you.”

Alright, I’ll go with you. The words hung on the tip of his tongue, wanting so badly to be spoken. He would’ve liked nothing more than to go with her, but there was still so much work to be done and to go with her would be to neglect the rest of his responsibilities. He couldn’t, at least not without putting up more of a fight, if only to convince himself that he’d tried.

“I have a lot of work to do today, my lady—“

“Who’s your second in command, Commander?” she wondered, interrupting him before his excuse could be fully voiced. Delani was growing impatient with him and his excuses and he couldn’t say that he blamed her.

Hesitantly, he answered, “Captain Ophelia—“

“Do you trust her to do her job?”

“I do.”

Gesturing as though he’d just solved all of their problems with that answer, Delani replied, “Good, then she’ll manage without you for a few hours.” When she noticed the lingering doubt in his eyes, she insisted, “It’ll only be a few hours, Cullen. I promise. We’ll be back before you know it, and you can bury yourself in work without any argument from me. Please, just come with me.”

He stared at her for a moment, moved by her plea. Delani, who was typically all devilment and revelry, was desperately insisting on having his company. She was meeting his every argument with heavy resistance but her patience was at its end. If he gave another reason why he could not accompany her, she would leave his office and he will have missed his chance to spend more time with her.

Delani needed this. He didn’t know what was bothering her, and he couldn’t imagine the stress she was dealing with. She wanted to get away for a few hours, and she wanted him to accompany her. There were worse ways to spend the morning than watching the sunrise with a beautiful woman. If she needed this, if she needed him, then he would not put up any more of a fight than he already had.

“Allow me to get ready, and I will go with you.”

A small smile curled her full lips, relief in her eyes. Nodding, she strode toward the door with a departing, “Meet me at the stables. I’ll prepare the mounts.” She left him in the office, shutting the door behind her.

Cullen stared at the door for a second, trying to convince himself that that had really just happened. Delani had truly come to his door and tried to whisk him away. It was supposed to be the other way around, and the mood wasn’t supposed to be so tense, but he would go with her regardless. Delani had asked for his company specifically. There were plenty of others she could have asked, but she’d asked him, and he wouldn’t keep her waiting.

Grabbing his pauldrons from his desk chair, Cullen pulled it over his shoulders. He strapped on his bracers, and tightened the laces of his boots. When he was dressed and ready to go, Cullen left a note for Captain Ophelia on his desk with clear instructions on how the day’s itinerary was to progress. Leaving his office behind, he hurried for the stables and found that his mare was already waiting for him by the time of his arrival.

Delani was already seated high on her hart, the beast huffing in discontent at the sight of Cullen.  She offered him a welcoming smile as he approached, but not another word passed between them. The sun would be rising soon, and he could feel that the Inquisitor was in a hurry to escape Skyhold before others started to stir.

He climbed onto his mare and they took off. Skyhold’s gates were already drawn, the patrol seeing them off by torchlight. His mount, Delilah, kept pace beside Delani’s hart, though it was obvious that the beast could outrun them should Delani command him to.

They rode for a while, their pace fast and unyielding. By the time the sun finally broke over the horizon they had already reached the valley. What had started as a scattering of trees quickly turned into an entire forest and their steeds were no longer able to run freely through the forestry. Delani signaled for them to dismount, and Cullen strung Delilah beside the Inquisitor’s hart.

Stepping up beside Delani, Cullen watched as his every exhale clouded the air before him. The morning was cold, the temperature was exhilarating and he felt his senses come alive. Feeling a tinge of embarrassment, he admitted, “Believe it or not, I have never really been on a hunt.” and followed after Delani as she started to go further into the forest.

Throwing him a doubtful sidelong glance, Delani commented, “Being a Templar for as long as you were, I find that hard to believe.”

Her comment, though said dryly, had not been malicious. Had Delani been in a better mood it would have been accompanied by a smirk, her sea green eyes glittering, teasing him to react offendedly to her words. Cullen missed her smile, missed the mischief in her eyes.

Not wanting for their conversation to end so soon, he replied, “Hunting apostates and hunting animals are two very different things, my lady.” Pushing aside some low hanging branches, Cullen gestured for Delani to go ahead of him before ducking under the branch himself.

“For the most part, animals are predictable,” he continued. “People aren’t; people are dangerous.”

“Yes,” she easily agreed, her tone level and controlled, “they are.”

Delani was speaking from first hand experience. She knew better than anyone how dangerous people could be. She’d probably dealt with more than her fair share of bandits, and thoughts of her clan were probably what was causing her unusual somber behavior.

Returning the subject to his inexperience in hunting, she assured him, “There’s nothing to it, just follow my lead.”

Silence joined them for a bit, and Cullen felt as though they were doing nothing more than taking a stroll through the woods. Not that he was complaining. He was perfectly content where he was and with the company he had. He couldn’t think of a single place that he would rather be. If Cullen could change one thing about the current situation it would be for Delani’s typical easy demeanor to be restored. But whatever she was going through was obviously something that she needed to work out on her own, and he was happy to be there for her however she needed him.

After a minute or so Delani broke the silence, “Is it typical for messages to take this long?”

An excuse started to form on his lips, but Cullen stopped himself before the words were voiced. Shaking his head, he decided to instead be honest with her. Delani was worried about her people, placating her with excuses and false reassurances wasn’t fair to her. “No, I would have expected to hear something by now.”

Delani nodded curtly. Directing her attention forward, her shoulders were tight and her mood was dark. Cullen placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. When her green eyes sought his, he allowed a soft smile to spread over his lips. Encouragingly, Cullen insisted, “Your clan is fine, Lady Lavellan. My soldiers made it in time. They’re safe.”

“How can you be so sure?” she demanded, wariness ringing clearly in her voice. She was searching his face, looking desperately into his eyes, hoping to find his confidence and replicate it as her own.

Allowing his smile to widen a touch, he said, “I have faith.”

She seemed dissatisfied with his answer, but accepted it nonetheless. They started walking again, and before silence could accompany them once more Delani started, “The reason that I insisted that you join me today, was because I wanted to get your opinion something.”

Intrigued, Cullen investigated, “My opinion on what?”

“The children at Skyhold,” she answered, her tone cautious, as though she were trekking on untested ground. “They came to Skyhold with their parents, who are working hard for the Inquisition. These people came to us to fight for a better tomorrow, a future that their children will be the leaders of, and I feel like we should be doing more for them.”

Glancing over her shoulder back at him, Delani tucked her bangs behind a pointed ear before declaring, “I think that any child, no matter their race or upbringing, should be receiving an education for as long as they’re with us. It’s the least we can do.”

Cullen stared at her for a while, stunned speechless by her ideals. Just when he thought that she couldn’t possibly surprise him any more than she already had, she went and said that. It was such a heartwarming thought, that she cared so much about those children that she wanted to make sure that every last one of them received a proper education. Others might have tried to argue with her, insisting that there were too many children, and too much else to do for them to be bothered with opening up a school in the middle of a military operation.

He just so happened to agree with Delani on the subject. If there was one thing that he’d appreciated about the Circle, it was that it used to take care of the needs of all those who called it home. All were given beds, warm meals, and a proper education. Skyhold had a well stocked library, better stocked now that Dorian had taken up residence within it. They had the space, they had the resources. If Delani felt like this should have been a priority, then he felt inclined to agree with her.

“You’re right,” he stated after only a moment of consideration. She looked back at him, surprise widening her features. He smiled at her reaction, knowing that she had probably been anticipating him to argue that it couldn’t be done, or that they didn’t have the time for it.

Nodding, he assured her that he had her back on this and said, “When we return to Skyhold I will see about getting the process started.”

“I—“ She shook her head and blinked hard, repressing her surprise as best she could. When she looked back at him it was with pinched brows and uncertainty in her eyes. “Really?” Delani asked, needing further affirmation that he didn’t think that she was being too idealistic.

“Really,” he said, before repeating her earlier statement. “It’s the least we can do.”

A grin expanded over her lips and Cullen’s heart melted at the sight of it. Finally, after a long morning of waiting, she had finally blessed him with a smile. Maker’s breath, what a beautiful sight. He felt a familiar burn start to warm under his cheeks and Cullen rubbed the back of his neck.

Clearing his throat, Cullen felt a sideways smirk coil the corner of his mouth. Feeling emboldened by the grateful look Delani was giving him, he wondered, “So that’s the reason you dragged me out here before the crack of dawn?”

A scoff sounded from Delani. Shrugging, she casually admitted, “No, I just so happen to enjoy your company.” And looked back at him in time to catch his reaction.

Cullen’s blush intensified and there was nothing he could to do hide it. Every time that he felt confident enough to hold his own against her flirtations, Delani would say something, or look at him a certain way, and he would turn into a flustered mumbling idiot. It was frustrating trying to compete with her, and she had to know the effect she had on him. Delani grinned in response to his reaction before returning her attention to the task at hand. He took another step and, before his foot could touch the ground, she stopped him in his tracks.

“Careful,” she hissed, squatting down to the ground. Gently touching the dirt, she explained, “You’re a better hunter than you think, vhenan’ara. Looks like we’ve stumbled upon some tracks.”

He grit his teeth, fighting back the desire to ask again what vhenan’ara meant. Delani was stubborn. He had seen her leave Skyhold with Sera, Iron Bull, and Dorian, and he could only imagine the level of patience and sheer willpower it took to deal with those three. He wouldn’t be able to pester her into telling him its meaning.

The only way she would ever tell him was if he conceded to her terms and called her by her first name. He didn’t know why he was still torturing himself. Her name was beautiful, short and melodic like her native tongue. But part of him enjoyed the mystery, the frustration, the self-inflicted torture. Why else would he allow himself to suffer for so long?

“These are deer tracks,” she explained, returning him to reality where she was about to educate him in the ways of a Dalish hunter. Staying crouched low to the ground, Delani followed the tracks a little ways and commented, “Fully grown male by the looks of it. These tracks are less than an hour old.”

They were moving again, and Cullen was careful to mind his footing. Admiring the way that Delani’s lithe body moved when she was on the hunt, he couldn’t help himself when he asked, “Where’d you learn to hunt?” The answer was obvious: from her clan. She was a hunter, hunting was what she did. The explanation she would give him was probably no more in depth than that.

Without looking at him, Delani answered, “My father taught me. When I was very young, about six or seven, I used to get into a lot of trouble with the clan.”

Unsurprised, Cullen felt a grin inch across his lips. He could imagine Delani as a little girl, causing a ruckus wherever she went. Unable to hide the amusement in his voice, he pursued the conversation. “How so?”

“Around that time, my clan had taken in a flat ear from the nearby town. He taught me how to pick locks,” that could have been answer enough, Cullen could easily fill in the rest without further explanation. The visuals that came to mind were beyond entertaining, but he was more than happy to hear the rest of Delani’s story. “Since the clan is always traveling, we have a lot of chests and, therefore, a lot of locks. I would pick every lock in the caravan and add an item to the chests; sometimes insects, mostly snakes.”

“That’s terrible,” Cullen replied with a laugh.

Nodding, Delani agreed. “It didn’t take long for the clan to reach its wits end with my antics. They told my parents to deal with me, so my father decided to keep my hands busy. He taught me the basics of wielding daggers, and how to track down prey. I caught on quick, and my clan was relieved that they no longer had to worry whether or not a serpent awaited them every time they opened a chest.”

His smile grew. “I can believe that.” Fondly regarding Delani, he observed, “Your father must be proud of the woman you’ve become.”

Her shoulders tensed, pausing in her tracks, her entire body turned rigid with discomfort, and Cullen knew that he had said exactly the wrong thing. When Delani glanced back at him there was a pained smile forced onto her lips. Her voice was soft when she replied, “I’d like to think so.”

Something about her reaction kept him for pursuing the topic any further, despite how desperately he wanted to. Did Delani have a bad relationship with her father? He doubted that that was the case, especially after how fondly she’d spoken of him, but her reaction made him want to dig deeper.

Cullen resisted the urge and instead followed quietly behind Delani. There was so much about her that he wanted to know. The way that she spoke of her home, of her people, made him want to see it for himself. He didn’t know enough about the Dalish, and just being with Delani made him want to know everything. He wanted to know how a woman like her came into being. Surely if the someone like her came from the Dalish then they were a people worth learning everything about.

After a while his thoughts were interrupted by Delani’s hushed whisper, “There he is.”

She gently moved a low hanging branch, giving Cullen a clear view of the buck they’d been pursuing. The deer was enormous, and had to weigh more than Cullen himself. He didn’t doubt that Delani would manage to down the deer, the only thing that gave him pause was how they were going to get him back to Skyhold.

She looked up at him, a grin on her lips, excitement in her eyes, and Cullen had to remind himself to breathe. Quietly, she jested, “Looks like lunch is on me, vhenan’ara.”

Evening was creeping into the sky and Delani found herself in Solas’s workspace, seated cross-legged at his desk, watching as the older elf painted on the walls. Solas was a man with many talents, and his fortitude in the arts was enviable. Delani would often come to the circular room just to sit and chat with the other elf.

Solas wasn’t fond of the Dalish people, she’d learned that straight away during their first conversation together. But he held her in higher regard than he did the rest of her people. They respected each other and, even though Delani had been initially put off by his dislike of the Dalish, she regarded him as a close and dear friend.

He was wise and insightful, and opinionated to a fault. She’d lost count of the nights that they had spent debating, respectfully arguing their opinions until they both left more educated and with a higher level of understanding than they’d had going in. Admittedly, Delani was often times on the losing side of those debates, but she enjoyed them all the same. Solas never treated her like a child, despite his seniority. He made her feel like his equal, and she respected him all the more for it.

Her morning with Cullen had helped while it lasted. The shemlan’s company always seemed to ease her tensions. But she’d promised that it would only last a few hours and, true to her word, she’d returned him to Skyhold before noon. The buck they’d hunted had been served for lunch, and not even the taste of her kill could scrub her clean from the melancholy that had latched itself to her all day. She’d hoped some time with the Commander would help her to forget, and it had, but as soon as he was gone it was back and she felt lost and alone.

“Something is troubling you, lethallan.” Solas commented, peeking back at her over his shoulder. There was a smudge of red paint on his brow, his eyes were soft with concern. His tone was gentle when he observed, “I’ve never known you to be this quiet.”

Sighing, she said, “It’s nothing,” before admitting, “I’m just worried for my clan. It is taking an unusual amount of time for Cullen to receive word on how they are doing.”

“You want to be with them,” Solas stated, knowing her well enough to be able to guess exactly why she was feeling so somber.

She nodded in answer, picking at her cuticles as Solas strode back toward his desk to put more paint onto the pallet in his hand. Glancing up at him past her brow, she said, “I trust Cullen to keep them safe, but it feels wrong to not be there to defend them myself. Protecting my clan has been my responsibility for more than a decade. It’s difficult disregarding my instincts and trusting someone else to ensure the clan’s survival.”

Solas glanced up at her, his eyebrow arched in intrigue. Mixing the blue and red paints on his pallet to create the loveliest purple color, he admitted, “I’m surprised to hear you say that you trust him.” He explained his meaning when Delani’s head tilted with curiosity. “Cullen is a shemlan. Of all of our companions there are a select few that you’ve allowed yourself to grow close to: Varric, Iron Bull, and myself.”

Turning around, he strode back toward the wall he was using as his canvas and finished his thought. “You seem wary of humans.”

“That’s not true,” Delani argued, feeling defensive. “Sera and I do not exactly get along.”

He scoffed, amused that she thought it was a valid argument. “I see little difference.”

Delani shrugged, he had a point. Sera disliked elven kind more than most humans did. Moving on to her next argument, she ventured, “How about Cole, I get along with him just fine.”

Looking over his shoulder back at her, the expression on Solas’s features was mildly scolding. “Cole is a spirit that is human in appearance alone.”

“Fine,” she groaned, falling backwards onto his desk. Laying her head down on a pile of books, she made herself comfortable as she admitted, “I’m wary of humans. But when the safety of your home and your people is threatened predominantly by humans, a little wariness keeps you alive.”

She started picking at her cuticles again, focusing on the task as she let her mind wander. Absently giving voice to her thoughts, Delani said, “But Cullen is different. He’s honest and noble, he’s—“

“Handsome,” Solas finished for her, a smile in his voice.

Surprised by his insertion, Delani’s gaze snapped to where he was standing in time to catch him grinning at her. Narrowing her eyes, she observed, “It looks like I have some competition for the Commander’s affections. I didn’t know that you had such… masculine preferences, Solas.”

“I don’t,” he assured her with a laugh. Looking back at the mural, he started to apply the purple paint onto the wall, his tone was casual even as he concentrated on his task. “But I can see the way you look at him.”

Sighing through her nose, Delani inspected her nails closely. Her heart fell to her stomach and she felt nauseous with self-loathing. “How I look at him doesn’t matter,” she rumbled, knowing that there was no way a man like Cullen would ever lower himself by consorting with a savage. “It will never amount to anything.”

Solas’s tone was gentle when he informed her, “Your feelings are not quite as unrequited as you think, da’len.”

She ignored the hope his words inspired inside of her. Maybe he was right. Maybe Cullen did have feelings for her and they were strong enough for him to pursue. Shaking her head she shoved the thoughts aside. “It doesn’t change anything,” she said mostly to herself, scolding herself for even thinking about her romantic life when the lives of her clan were in danger. “I’m the Inquisitor and that is all that I will ever be to him.”

Frustratedly combing her fingers through her hair, Delani sighed through her nose and shoved all thoughts of Cullen from her mind. She was too emotionally compromised to even consider starting something with the human. Her people were in danger, and she was worried. Until she received word one way or another, she could only focus on work.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said with another sigh.

When Solas replied his voice was full of understanding. “Then what do you wish to talk about, lethallan?”

“Nothing,” Delani admitted before desperately pleading with the man. “Solas, would you please tell me more about the Beyond? Can you tell more about another one of your friends? Please?”

Graciously conceding to her request, he said, "Ma nuvenin, ma’falon.” He paused for a moment as he considered which tale to tell. When he thought of the perfect one Solas recalled the event and Delani shut her eyes to listen. The tone of his voice was soothing, rhythmic, melodic, like listening the patter of rain against the fabric of her tent in the caravan. He would help her to forget her worries. It wouldn’t last forever, but even the shortest reprieve was a relief.

Chapter Text

“Oh, my shoulders,” Dorian whined as they strode back into Skyhold. The mage was rolling his shoulders, rubbing his neck, his face pinched by discomfort. Giving Delani a sidelong glance, he wondered, “You don’t happen to know if the Inquisition has a masseuse under our employ, do you?”

Before Delani could answer Iron Bull stepped up behind him, his massive digits seeking out the knots in Dorian’s back. “If you’re looking for a back rub, look no further, Vint.”

Dorian winced at the pain before melting under the qunari’s hands. After a millisecond he recognized what was going on and leapt out from Iron Bull’s grasp. “Unhand me you foul beast!” he said, crazily waving his hands in front of him as though he were about to cast a spell.

Keeping pace beside Delani, Varric nudged her with his elbow before wagering, “Five sovereigns says that they end up in bed together before the end of the month.”

She glanced back at the other two men and shook her head. Dorian was glaring at Bull from the corner of his eye, and Iron Bull had a boyish smirk on his lips. Looking back down at Varric, Delani replied, “I’m not in the habit of taking losing bets, Tethras.”

“Ah, shucks,” he snapped his fingers in mock disappointment. “And here I was looking to make easy money.”

Playfully pushing his shoulder, she shoved him back a step, a laugh in her voice when she assured him, “Well you’re not going to get it from me, dwarf.”

“I almost had you there though, Scarlett.”

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Gaping at Varric she demanded, “Is that my nickname?”

The thought made her grin. Finally she had a nickname! She felt like she’d been waiting for ages to receive a name other than ‘elf’ from the dwarf. How could he ever consider her to be a friend if he didn’t have a nickname to call her by? Varric nicknamed everyone, going without had felt like he didn’t think her deserving of one.

Noticing the excitement in Delani’s eyes, Varric shrugged and informed her, “It’s a working name. I still haven’t decided if I like it or not.”

She grinned at him and said, “It’s perfect.”

Waving off her words with faux-abashment, Varric replied, “We’ll see if it sticks.”

Her three companions were visibly more relaxed now that they were back in Skyhold. She’d dragged them to the Fallow Mire in order to rescue some of the Inquisition’s soldiers, and not a single moment had gone by without her hearing a complaint from Dorian. It was partially the reason why she’d brought him. Dorian complained about everything she hated about the Fallow Mire, which just also happened to be everything about the Fallow Mire.

It was a dreary place that not even the sun dared to touch. The rain never ceased and the undead, Delani groaned at the very thought of them. She couldn’t walk five steps without stumbling over a possessed corpse out for blood. It was wet, cold, and dark, and Delani hated it. The only thing that made it better was the eloquence of Dorian’s complaints. His words were always chosen so bitingly, so beautifully, and hearing him whine and pout about how much he hated the Fallow Mire made being there bearable.

Now they were back home, and they could all relax for a little while before Delani dragged them by their ears out onto the field again. Iron Bull voiced a boisterous goodbye before disbanding from their group and heading toward the tavern. She, Dorian, and Varric headed toward Skyhold’s main hall before going their separate ways.

As much as she wanted to check in with all of her companions and see how all of them were doing, there was something vastly more important that she needed to do. Bathe. She smelled like sweat and musty swamp water. Her cloak was heavy and dirty, and desperately needed to be washed. Every inch of her from head to toe needed to be scrubbed clean, and it wasn’t something that could be put off until later.

Returning to her bedchamber, Delani summoned a bath and set aside fresh clothes to wear afterwards. Upon first arriving at Skyhold Josephine had tried to convince Delani to wear a ridiculous monotoned ensemble, with golden buckles and creme colored boots. Naturally, she’d refused. She had casual clothing, yes they were of Dalish make, but they were comfortable and vastly superior to the colorless drab she’d been asked to wear. Delani had never particularly cared for appearances, and that hadn’t changed by becoming Inquisitor.

The bath was hot, bubbly, and well deserved. She’d soaked in the tub until the water was cold and her fingertips were wrinkled like dried grapes. Stepping out of the now cold water, having suds slip down her limbs, it was like stress melting off of her body. Delani wrapped herself in a warm towel and stepped back into her room. Quickly she dried herself off, ran a comb through her hair, got dressed in her comfortable clothing, and threw herself down on her enormous bed.

All that she wanted to do was lie down and nap like a cat bathing in the sun. But she knew that, now that she’d returned, her responsibilities wouldn’t wait for her to settle back into the swing of things. Any minute now someone was bound to come, knocking on her door, reminding her of all the paperwork that had accumulated during her absence. She had a million things to do and they couldn’t wait until—

There was a rap on her door. Delani buried her face in her hands and sobbed to herself. Through the cracks of her fingers she shouted, “Coming!” and peeled herself off of the mattress. It was times like these that she couldn’t remember why she’d taken the title of Inquisitor. Being a hunter had never been so demanding.

Dragging her feet toward the stairs, she slowly descended the steps and pulled the door open. There was one of Cullen’s soldiers standing on the other side. The young man handed a folded piece of parchment to her with the explanation, “You were to receive this message upon your arrival, Lady Inquisitor.”

“Thank you,” Delani replied, carefully taking the message from the young man’s outstretched hand. He crossed his arm over his chest in salute and turned on his heel to leave. She closed the door behind him before leaning her back against it.

Her heart started to beat against her ears. Nerves started to ripple through her veins. All that Delani could do for a moment was stare down at the folded letter. She knew that she needed to open it, she knew that whatever laid inside pertained to her clan, but she couldn’t bring herself to unfold the paper and read the words inside.

What if the news was bad? What if her whole family was gone and she was alone? Delani couldn’t even bear the thought. A life without her clan was hardly one worth living. It was her responsibility to keep them safe, and if she opened that letter and learned that they were all dead, it was she who would have failed them all.

Her hand was shaking and she was nervously gnawing on the inside of her cheek. The news was right there in her hand, the words scribed on the parchment just waiting to be read. She’d been pestering Cullen for information every time she’d seen him. He had promised news and there it was, right in her grasp, and she was too big of a coward to unfold the paper and read what was inside.

Free hand reaching for the carving knife hanging from her belt, she worried on the worn leather hilt and summoned the strength to unfold the message. Eyelids falling shut, she breathed in deeply through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. Avoiding the news wouldn’t change it one way or another. She had to read the message. She had to know.

She reopened her eyes and released the carving knife. Taking one more deep breath to steel her resolve, she unfolded the letter and read the message inside. Her heart started to race, a grin expanding over her lips. It was good news. The news was more than good, it was great. Her clan was alive, and they’d suffered minimal casualties. Cullen’s forces had descend from the hills and joined clan Lavellan’s hunters and they’d put down the bandits together.

Relief flowed through her like a calming stream. Thank the Creators. She buried her fingers in her hair and laughed to herself. They’d done it. Cullen’s men had done it. Cullen had done it. Her people were safe, they were no longer in danger, they were alive, and it was because of him.

Her feet were moving before purpose could take shape in her mind. Delani knew that she had to thank him, but her body was one step ahead of her. The door to her bedchambers slammed shut and she ran through the corridor and down more flights of stairs. She needed to find Cullen and she needed to thank him for her people’s safety.

She burst into the main hall, quickly drawing startled glances and rousing suspicious conversation. Clearing her throat, Delani made more of an effort to appear casual, but her pace was still hurried as she walked down the hall’s length.

Towards the end of the main hall, Varric was seated at his writing desk, quill in hand, fresh parchment stacked before him. He watched her approach with a quirked eyebrow, and once she was close enough his gravely voice wondered, “Where’s the fire, Scarlett?”

Her only reply was an impartial shrug, before pulling open the door to Solas’s workspace that connected to the walkway that would take her to Cullen’s office. She offered the other elf a quick, “Hi, Solas; bye Solas,” as she ran through the cylindrical room and made her way outside.

Once she was greeted by the cool mountain air and the sun’s warm light she was jogging toward the Commander’s office, trying to appear as casual as possible while also rushing to get to her destination. She was aware that she looked like a madwoman, she just didn’t have it in her to care.

She considered knocking before entering but, given the time of day, decided against it. He was probably at his desk, up to his eyeballs in paperwork. She would be a distraction, and a surprise one at that. What better way to thank him than to distract him from his work with a surprise? Unfortunately when she pushed open his door, announcing her arrival with the door bursting inward, it was only to find that his office was empty.

A lone soldier stood post, informing Delani that the Commander wasn’t in his office, an observation that she’d come to on her own. When Delani investigated, the soldier had no explanation for where Cullen had run off to. He just meekly replied, “The Tevinter mage came for the Commander, said he needed a break.”

Brows furrowing, Delani thanked the soldier and left Cullen’s office. Where had Dorian taken the Commander? Didn’t he know that she needed to thank him? Returning to Skyhold’s main building, she strode past Solas with only a nod in acknowledgement. When she stepped out into the main hall she walked over to Varric’s writing desk, hoping that the dwarf had seen the Commander or Dorian.

“Did you put out that fire, Inquisitor?” Varric asked, a laugh in his voice as he dipped his quill in ink and pressed the tip to the parchment before him.

Shaking her head in answer, Delani muttered a quiet, “Not yet,” before asking him, “Have you seen Cullen or Dorian?” She was hoping for the former, but if Dorian had stolen the Commander then finding him would lead her to her desired target.

“Both actually,” Varric informed her, without looking up from his parchment. Vaguely gesturing toward the door across the way, he stated, “Sparkler dragged Curly to the garden, said something about a gentleman’s game. Knowing Dorian, I was too afraid to ask.”

Now that she knew where to look, Delani thanked Varric for the information and crossed the hall to the door on the opposite side of the hall. Stepping into the garden, she breathed in deeply, taking in the smell of flowers and greenery basking in the day light. It was a gorgeous day, the sun was out, the temperature was comfortable, and the garden’s flowers were in full bloom. The garden was lovely, Delani didn’t know why she didn't visit it more often.

She found Dorian and Cullen at the far end of the garden, seated under the verandah, a chessboard dividing them. A smile curled the corners of her mouth at the sight of them. Delani supposed she couldn’t be mad at Dorian for stealing the Commander when he was actually helping Cullen to relax for once. First she would thank Cullen for saving her people, then she would thank Dorian for being a good friend to Cullen; both men were deserving of praise.

Delani’s gaze moved to, then focused on Cullen. His blond hair shone like threads of gold in the daylight, his pale skin had healthy warm undertones. Amber colored eyes were glittering with mirth, careless laughter at a friendly game of chess. The smile on his lips was effortless, and Cullen had to be the most relaxed she had ever seen him. Also the most handsome.

She’d always known that Cullen was handsome, a blind man could have seen that, but she was seeing more than that now. Cullen was kind, caring, compassionate, he was thoughtful, dutiful, and noble. He cared deeply for the soldiers under his command. Every order he gave was given only after heavy thought and consequences considered. He regarded his peers with respect and demanded to be treated with the same. He never forgot what was important and did whatever was necessary to achieve his goals.

Cullen saw what had to be done and he did not waver. That was what had saved her clansmen, that was what had protected her family. He’d seen how important protecting her clan was to Delani and, instead of giving her reasons as to why it couldn’t be done, he gave the order and did it. He was a man of action, a man of conscious, a man of honor, and Delani had feelings for him.

She was done shoving her feelings aside out of fear that they were unrequited. She was the Herald of Andraste, even if she didn’t believe it, he did. She was the Inquisitor. Delani was more than an elf now. She could reach in any which direction and it would never be considered reaching higher than her station again. She could reach for him and no longer feel undeserving of his attention.

For too long already she’d played the flirt without conviction. Teasing the man was easy, making him blush was fun, making him hers would take more effort. And Delani would make him hers. If he truly had no feelings for her then she would back off. It would be awkward for a while, but it would pass. But if there was even the slightest chance that he felt for her the way she felt for him, then she was going to pursue him like a leopard stalking her prey. She would be relentless, she would not back down, and she was not going to stop until he either told her to or she got what she wanted.

Delani casually approached the verandah, hesitant to interrupt their game, but wanting to watch all the same. Cullen saw her coming out of the corner of his eye and attempted to stand to greet her properly.

“Inquisitor—“ Cullen started only to be cut off by the mage.

Chuckling at the Commander, Dorian steepled his fingers plottingly and wondered, “Leaving are you?” A grin spread under his mustache, his eyes sparkling like gems. “Does this mean I win?”

Cullen gave the other man a sharp look, and Delani smiled at the two of them. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she assured the both of them, “Don’t stop on my account, I’m fine watching for a bit.”

“Alright.” Moving his gaze from Delani to Dorian, Cullen quirked a daring eyebrow, the sideways smirk on his lips was confident. Gesturing toward the board, he said, “Your move.”

The grin that stretched over Dorian’s handsome features was haughty. His tone was teasing when he stated, “You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory.” He moved a piece on the board and finished, “You’ll feel much better.”

“Really,” Cullen challenged, setting his chess piece down with some emphasis. Softly chuckling in lighthearted amusement, he observed, “Because I just won, and I feel fine.”

Dorian had to double, then triple check the board, as if he didn’t quite believe that he’d lost so completely. Shaking his head at being so terribly beaten, Dorian grumbled, “Don’t get smug,” while pushing himself out of his seat. “There’ll be no living with you.”

The mage left them with that, fleeing from his defeat before rumor could spread that Dorian Pavus only talked a big game. Delani smiled at Dorian as he left them, giving his shoulder a gentle sympathetic pat. When she returned her attention to Cullen it was to find his gaze already on her. She took a step forward and he cleared his throat.

“I should return to my duties as well,” he paused, a hopeful glint in his golden eyes as he regarded her. “Unless you’d care for a game.”

Delani immediately grinned in agreement, “Prepare the board, Commander,” and stepped up to sit in the chair previously occupied by Dorian.

She’d only played chess twice before in her entire life. One of her clansmen had traded a human a quality pelt for it. When she’d heard the news she’d demanded to know why and her clansman challenged her to a game. After losing she’d demanded a rematch only to lose again. It had been years since her last defeat, but if losing again meant spending time with Cullen then she would happily suffer the embarrassment.

As he set up the board, Delani remembered why she’d been seeking him out in the first place. Admiring his carefree expression, she stated, “I need to thank you, vhenan’ara.”

Surprised, he looked up from his task with curiosity in his eyes. “Thank me for what, Inquisitor?” he asked, returning his gaze to the board until all of the players were back in their places.

Delani smiled, happy to see him like this. It was always work with him, there was never a time that he was just relaxing for the sake of it. It had taken Dorian dragging him out here for it to happen, but she was glad that she was able to witness him without a report in hand or an entourage of soldiers awaiting instruction.

“For the lives of my clansmen,” she explained, her smile wide with gratitude and sincerity. “You were true to your word, you kept them safe.”

That smile. How did she expect him to concentrate when she was giving him that smile? Shaking his head, he replied, “There’s no need to thank me, Lady Lavellan. It was my men who did all of the work.”

“At your order,” she corrected, insisting on thanking him even if he hadn’t done anything worthy of her thanks. Her sea green eyes were persistent, she was not going to let this go until he accepted her gratitude. “You promised me that you would keep them safe and you did. Thank you. I will never be able to repay you.”

Cullen knew that arguing with her further would only make her more earnest about thanking him. His only choice was to accept her gratitude. Offering Delani a warm smile, he stated, “You’re repaying me now,” and gestured toward the board.

His heart jumped at the sight of her full lips pulling into a larger smile. Andraste preserve me, she was beautiful beyond compare. Her auburn hair shone like silk in the daylight and Cullen ached to thread his fingers through those crimson strands. Her clay colored skin looked soft, warm, and he had mused how she would feel pressed against him more times than he would ever admit. The way Delani’s sea green eyes regarded him made him feel superhuman, as though there weren’t a single thing that he couldn’t do. She was beautiful, and the biggest crime of all was that she had no idea just how beautiful she was.

Clearing his throat and returning his focus to the game, Cullen wondered, “Have you played before?”

She shrugged, her smile turning playful. “Once or twice,” Delani answered before, moving a pawn two spaces. It was a weak first move, and a poor way to start the game. To say that she was a novice at chess was being kind. He couldn’t help the smile that curled his lips. So there was at least one thing that the Herald of Andraste couldn’t do.

Leaning forward, Delani rested her elbows on the table dividing them. “How about you?” she asked, curiosity in her eyes.

Cullen smiled and nodded that he was very familiar with the game. “As a child I played this with my sister.” He chuckled at the memory. Growing up, his sister had always been better than him at everything, and she’d always loved to remind him of it. They used to fight like cats and dogs but he had always loved his sister, and he missed her dearly.

Shaking his head, he shooed the memory. He moved a knight in an equally poor move, and returned to their conversation. “She’d get this stuck up grin when she won, which was all the time. My brother and I practiced together for weeks. The look on her face when I finally won.”

His smile fell a bit as he considered his family and his home. With so much to do, so many responsibilities to attend to, and so many people that depended on him it was easy for Cullen to get lost in his work. It was times like these, when he had a second to catch his breath, that he remembered how terribly he missed his family. Most days the knowledge that they were safe was enough to satisfy him. Other days he would give a limb if it meant playing another board game with his sister.

“Between the templars and the Inquisition I haven’t seen them in years. I wonder if she still plays.”

Delani moved another pawn and Cullen wondered if she even knew what she was doing. Her gaze was on him, her eyes alight with surprise. She smiled warmly when she investigated, “You have siblings?”

“Two sisters and a brother,” he answered with a nod before moving his knight again and taking one of her pawns, leaving the piece vulnerable for her to take during her next move.

She took the bait and picked up his knight, a self-satisfied smile on her face as she set it aside. Cullen watched her grin to herself and had to wonder how a woman so beautiful came into existence. She was adorable. Delani had taken exactly one of his pieces and she was grinning like she’d just won. It had to be the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

He was fighting back a smile when she inquired more about his family. “Where are they now?” she asked, keeping the conversation going as she faked her way through the chess game.

“They moved to South Reach after the blight.” He answered before sighing through his nose and admitting, “I do not write to them as often as I should.” before taking his turn.

Cullen was enjoying their easy communication. They hardly ever got the chance to talk so casually without something more important hanging over their heads or looming in the background of their thoughts. Delani was visibly more relaxed now that she knew her clan was safe. She was smiling again, the laugh was back in her eyes, and Cullen was elated to see it again.

Not wanting their conversation to fizzle out, he asked, “How about you?” She looked up to meet his gaze with a question in her eyes. Smiling he clarified, “Do you have any siblings?”

Shaking her head she answered, “I am an only child,” only to amend, “Not that that means anything when you live in a clan.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, intrigued.

Cullen wanted to learn more about Delani and her people. His knowledge on the Dalish was laughable. But he could recognize power when he saw it. Their clans’ hunters were well trained and protective of their people. Their Keepers were said to be powerful mages with access to magic that was foreign to even the Circle. And they’d given the Inquisition Delani, who was a force of nature unto herself. The Dalish were deserving of respect, and he knew of no better way to show this than by learning more about them.

Delani’s smile widened and she shrugged in answer. “The clan’s children are born and raised together. We may not be siblings by blood, but we are kin.” Moving another chess piece, she stated, “In my generation alone there were fifteen of us.”

He made a surprised noise, unable to imagine growing up with fifteen other children. His three siblings had been more than enough, another twelve would have been insane. “That is a lot of children.”

“That is a single generation,” she rebuked with a half smile. “It is not easy living constantly on the move, as we Dalish do. The world is a dangerous place, especially when your ears are sharp like ours.”

Though her tone was casual, Cullen could tell that she was missing her home and her people. She spoke of her clan with such fondness that he wished that he could meet them for himself. Would he even be welcomed among them, or would he be considered another human? He moved another chess piece and listened to the sound of Delani’s melodic voice as she explained to him what it was like living the way her people did.

“Despite having medicine and healing magic, people die. My parents were actually discouraged from having only one child. If one out of every two children died of illness, injury, or because of bandits then having one child is not only selfish but harmful to the entire clan.” Shrugging as though the logic was sound, Delani stated, “The more children we have the better the odds are of our survival.”

Brows reaching for his hairline in shock, Cullen wondered, “Is that common?” One out of every two children was far too many children dying to things that should have been avoidable.

She shook her head, the gesture only slightly comforting. “I was just giving an example.” A second later she added, “But out of my generation’s fifteen children only ten lived to see adulthood.”

“That’s terrible,” Cullen said, not sure what else to say. The thought of so many children losing their lives, it was sickening. No wonder the Dalish hated humans so much. The wilderness already threatened their people as only nature could, but then to also be attacked by ignorant and violent humans. It was a battle on all fronts.

“That’s life,” she corrected him with an understanding smile.

Cullen stared at Delani for a moment, amazed by her. She was perseverant, stubborn, too strong willed to even have time for weakness. She’d been shaped from the beginning to be something great, and she hadn’t the slightest idea how amazing she was.

Not knowing what else to say, but also not wanting their conversation to turn awkward, Cullen asked, “Do you miss them?” only to be rewarded by Delani’s heart shattering grin.

“Terribly,” she admitted with a laugh.

She moved another chess piece, and Cullen considered how best to retaliate. There were five ways that he could move that would immediately end the game, but ending the game would also mean ending his time with Delani. If he moved his bishop three spaces he could take her knight but also leave his queen open. It would still appear like he was putting up a fight, while also allowing her the satisfaction of winning, and spending more time with her. Sure he lost the game, but he won in the long run.

Taking his queen, Delani elaborated, “They’re actually the leading reason why I agreed to become Inquisitor.”

“Oh?” he asked, intrigued. He moved a pawn just for the sake of using his turn, if Delani played the way he thought she would, the game would be hers in two more moves.

“As Inquisitor I can do more for the Dalish people,” she explained, pressing her tower forward, just like he knew she would. One more move.

Smiling up at Cullen, she continued, “There is a lot of misunderstanding when it comes to my people and everyone else. We harbor old resentments and hatred, but we need to move on; just as people need to understand our traditions and our ways.” Taking a moment to consider what she’d just said, she corrected herself. “Well, understanding might be asking for too much. If I can help people to at least respect us it would already be so much more than what we have.”

“So you’re staying for your people,” Cullen summarized, moving his king into position so that she could end the game. Once his king was in place he looked up to meet Delani’s sea green eyes. She was staring at him with a foxy smirk on her lips, plots unfolding in her eyes.

Arching a goading eyebrow, she corrected him, “I joined the Inquisition for my people. I’m staying for you.” Without breaking eye contact with him, she took his king and ended the game.

Shocked, Cullen felt his cheeks flush. Delani was always flirting with him, teasing him, trying to make him blush. But something about her was different this time. Her lips were still twisted devilishly, her eyes were still glittering with mischief, but Delani’s features were sincere.

She was teasing him, but she wasn’t joking. Her interest in him was more than a passing flirtation, more than making him blush for sport. Her interest in him was genuine, real, and Cullen needed to remind himself to breathe.

Was it even possible that someone like her could be interested in him? He didn’t see how. But her eyes told him otherwise. Cullen swallowed hard and rubbed the back of his neck.

“That’s uh… a bold statement,” he carefully replied, his cheeks still aflame with his boyish reaction.

She pursed her lips and shrugged. “And an honest one.” Delani held his gaze, her expression open, her eyes bright and honest. There suddenly wasn’t a wall of propriety up for her, she didn’t care that he was the Commander and she was the Inquisitor. Delani was making it clear that she was interested in him and that she didn’t intend to play anymore games.

Confidently, she stated, “We should spend more time together.”

And, trying to hold his own against her intimidating conviction and self-awareness, he replied, “I’d like that.”

“Me too.”

His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, thumping against his ribcage. She’d just said that. She wanted to spend more time with him, she was staying with the Inquisition to be closer to him. Delani’s interest in him was not a passing flirtation, and there was a legitimate chance that she felt the same way about him as he did for her. Cullen was afraid to blink, afraid that she’d either disappear, or that this was only a dream.

After a second he did blink only to find the gorgeous elf still seated across from him. Their conversation had just happened. She wanted to spend more time with him. Cullen felt like a giddy school boy.

Fighting a grin from his face, he forced her attention back to the chessboard between them and observed, “I believe this one is yours. Well played.” He didn’t want to leave the garden just yet, to leave her company or the warmth radiating from his chest. But the pile of papers he had abandoned on his desk still needed to be read. As fun as this was, it had to come to an end eventually.

“We will have to try again some time.” he stated, hoping beyond hope itself that she would still feel the same way about him even without being in his company.

Delani’s eyebrows furrowed with discontentment. She looked down at the board before glaring back at him, her green eyes narrowed with dissatisfaction. “Cullen,” she started, her tone serious and unamused. “Vhenan’ara, you threw the game.”

A smile itched to unfurl on his lips, needing to be freed. He fought the urge, refusing to give away his tell. Clearing his throat, Cullen feigned ignorance as he said, “What ever do you mean, my lady?”

“There were at least five different times that you could have defeated me,” she clarified, her eyes sharp, the small smile at the corner of her mouth was scolding. When she finished speaking her tone was insulted. “But you didn’t.”

Cullen shrugged, trying to play innocent for as long as he could, even if he could tell that Delani wasn’t buying it for one second. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“I’m implying that you let me win.” she spelled it out for him. When Cullen tried to shake his head like he didn’t know what she was talking about, her eyes sharpened some more. “You’re telling me that the same man who trained for weeks in order to beat his sister lost to me, someone who has played this game a total of two times in my entire life?”

A laugh spilled out of him unbidden. She just couldn’t accept her victory. Raising an eyebrow, Cullen wondered, “Not fond of winning, are you?”

“Not like this,” Delani answered. She started to put the pieces back on the board, her tone full of conviction as she spoke. “My victories are earned, not handed to me. We’re playing again, and you’re going to let me lose like I deserve.”

“If you insist, my lady,” he said, trying to disguise his amusement but failing completely. Also setting up his pieces, Cullen informed her, “But it’s going to be a rather short game,” before gesturing to the board and inviting her to make a move.

She moved a pawn, the same starting move she’d made before. It was going to be an extremely short game. She laughed at his frankness, the sound was not only surprised but admiring as well. “Oh, just listen to that sass. So now your true colors show.” Her eyes sought his, warmth in those green depths as she regarded him. “I can’t say that I’m surprised.”

“No?” He asked, curious as to what she meant. He moved his knight. Four more moves and the game would be his. Wanting an explanation for her observation, he asked, “And why’s that?”

“Because you know you’re going to win,” she answered with a shrug, as though it was obvious. She moved another piece and Cullen corrected his earlier assessment. He could win the game in two moves.

Unaware that she was so close to defeat, Delani stated, “Sass comes easy to those who aren’t afraid of losing.”

He couldn’t help his grin. “That actually explains a lot about you,” he admitted before playing his piece.

Delani caught on that her king was vulnerable and quickly moved to defend him. It would only buy her a little more time. This game was his and she knew it as well as he did. She shrugged in reply to his observation before she said, “It explains that I’m a good liar.”

“Not as good as you think.”

Her eyes sharpened but her lips twisted with delight. Her eyes were glittering with mirth and Cullen could tell that she was enjoying this careless repartee just as much as he was. Scrunching her features up in false distaste, she grumbled, “Yes, yes, you’ve got some sharp wit to you after all. We’re all very impressed.”

“I never took you for a sore loser,” Cullen playfully scolded her before moving his piece and getting himself that much closer to the end of the game.

Sighing, Delani glared at the chessboard and contemplated her next move. Without looking up at him, her delicate fingers hovered over her bishop before moving to the knight and then returning to the bishop. “Someone alert the criers,” she said, still undecided on her next move. “The Herald of Andraste has a flaw.”

Cullen sniggered at her comment, his grin expanding when she decided on moving the knight. “Yes,” he replied, countering her move. “Your lack of strategy certainly does count as flawed.”

“Roguish good looks and boyish charm,” she leaned her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her palm. Delani stared at him as though she were trying to figure him out, as though he were some enigma that would haunt her forever. “Tell me, Commander, why must you resort to petty verbal abuse? I assure you, there are easier ways to make me swoon.”

He could feel a familiar burn on his face and in his ears. How did she always manage to do that? It was infuriating. He would return the gesture in kind. Sooner or later it would be him causing her to blush, making her flustered. Cullen was determined to see her cheeks flush because of him for a change.

“I—erm— I mean…” Blinking himself back into focus, Cullen mumbled a hurried, “It’s my move,” before taking her king.

“And look at that,” she replied with a sigh, but her expression was happy despite her defeat. “I lose.”

Surprised that she was taking her defeat so well, Cullen commented, “You got what you wanted, Lady Lavellan.”

A wicked smile curled her lips. Delani pushed herself up from her seat and stood in front of the table. Holding Cullen’s gaze, she assured him, “I always do, vhenan’ara.” before leaving him there to stare after her.

Just like that he was blushing all over again.

Chapter Text

Delani was in the garden, secluded from everyone else as she tried to get through a thick pile of reports. She’d thought that doing something she hated in a place that she loved would negate one another and leave her feeling neutral about the task. She’d been wrong. Now she hated the paperwork, the garden, and life itself. This had not been what she’d signed up for when she agreed to be Inquisitor.

Griping and groaning through every page, she was almost through the pile when her saving grace decided to rescue her from the chore. Varric crossed the garden, approaching her with a reluctant smile on his lips. Something was going on with the dwarf. He had news, though it was hard to tell if it was good news or bad news from the expression on his face.

Once he was close enough to speak to her at a casual decibel, Varric greeted her with warmth in his brown eyes. “Hey, Scar,” it was a nickname for her nickname. Delani didn’t care, as long as he called her anything other than Inquisitor or Herald, she was happy with whatever name he gave her. His tone was teasing when he asked, “Having fun with your paperwork?”

She glared at him for mocking the loath with which she regarded the task. “Yes,” she replied flatly, returning her attention to the parchment starting to crumple in her agitated fist. “I am having the most fun I have ever had in the entirety of my life.”

“I can tell,” Varric rebutted with a chuckle. Standing beside her table, he informed her, “I could hear you complaining from inside.”

Delani set the papers down on the table with a touch too much force before plopping her cheek down on the parchment. Giving Varric a pleading look, she wondered, “Is there something that you needed?” It was more than a question, she was begging him to save her, to give her an excuse to forget her task and leave the paperwork behind.

The smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth was conceding. “You remember that contact of mine who had some insight or Corypheus?”

Without lifting her head from the table’s surface, Delani nodded.

Nervously clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides, Varric informed her, “Well, they’ve arrived and are ready to talk whenever you are.”

“Great!” Delani leaped out of her seat, parchment fluttering all around her when the suddenness of her movements caused the papers to scatter. Without turning to look at the mess she’d made, Delani strode past Varric, urgently nudging his shoulder as she walked by, and said, “Let’s go now!”

“They’re waiting on the battlements,” Varric explained, keeping stride beside her. “Wanted to meet in private.”

It didn’t matter. Delani would meet whoever wherever if it meant getting away from those reports. The way Varric was behaving was a little curious, however. He looked happier than he usually did, while simultaneously being self-conscious, like if the wrong person caught his smile the jig would be up. As they made their way out of Skyhold’s main building and toward the battlements, Delani wondered if the name of the person he was trying to avoid started with a C and ended with an assandra.

They climbed up onto the battlements and Delani frowned when she found it empty. Turning slightly to the dwarf, she gave him a worried look as she wondered, “Your friend doesn’t happen to be imaginary, does it, Varric?”

Chuckling, he shook his head in answer. “Just give ‘em a second, Scarlett.”

Just then she noticed the female figure descending onto the battlements. She was human, and beautiful too. Short compared to Cassandra, but still taller than Delani, the human carried herself with confidence and a self-awareness that was enviable. Her skin was pale, made rosy from the cool weather, and her eyes were a sharp shade of blue, like a glacier floating at sea. Loose curls of mahogany fell past her shoulders and framed her heart shaped face. Varric’s following introduction was unnecessary, Delani already knew who it was.

“Inquisitor,” he started, a fondness in his voice that had never been there before. “meet Bella Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall.”

Hawke gave Varric a warm look, the smile at the corner of her mouth made it perfectly clear that she regarded him as though he were family. When she met Delani’s gaze it was to correct Varric’s statement, “Though I don’t use that title much anymore.”

Giving Varric a sidelong glance, Delani asked, “You are aware that Cassandra is going to kill you, right?”

“Only if you let her,” Varric retorted with a scoff, waving off Delani’s concern as unnecessary. But it was necessary, and they both knew it. Cassandra had a temper, and this was sure to trigger it. Returning his attention to the other woman, Varric continued with the introductions. “Hawke, this is Inquisitor Lavellan. I figured that you might have some friendly advice on Corypheus.”

“Make sure he’s dead this time?” Hawke replied with a weary laugh. Ruffling her curls, she mussed them away from her face and peered at the landscape around them before sighing. “Honestly, Inquisitor, I don’t know what to tell you that can compare to you dropping half a mountain on that darkspawn bastard.”

“Delani is fine,” she said, stepping up beside the human. When Hawke peered up at her with confusion in her blue eyes, Delani clarified. “My name is Delani. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to deal with as few formalities as possible.”

Smiling at her request, Hawke nodded that she both understood and approved. She stretched out her hand toward Delani and said, “Bella will do just fine then.”

She shook the other woman’s hand, glad that finally someone had agreed to call her by her name and not her title. When Bella released her hand, Delani crossed her arms in front of her chest and pursued as much as she could about Corypheus from the human. “You don’t lack experience. You did save a city from a horde of rampaging qunari, after all.”

“I don’t see how that applies,” Bella replied with a laugh before gesturing toward Skyhold’s grounds in demonstration. “There doesn’t seem to be a horde of qunari around here, rampaging or otherwise.”

“No,” Varric agreed from the other side of the platform, a bottle of wine in hand. Taking a swig straight from the bottle, he grinned and said, “We’ve just got the one. Thank Andraste for that.”

The wind swept Bella’s curly hair into her face and she patiently brushed it back. Giving Delani an apologetic look, she admitted, “I’ve fought and killed Corypheus before, and he was dead. Believe me, I know dead when I see it. Last time he was able to influence the Grey Wardens through his connection with the darkspawn.”

Stepping up beside the conversing women, Varric looked up from one to the other before informing Delani, “He got into their heads and messed with their minds.” Sighing, Varric moved his gaze onto the training ground when he finished. “He turned them against each other.”

“If the Wardens disappeared,” Bella started, wincing at what would come out of her mouth next and how Delani might take it. “They could have fallen under his influence… again.”

Rubbing her fingers into her eyes, Delani sighed deeply. A thousand year old magister was trouble enough on his own. He was far from alone now. “So, Corypheus has the Venatori, the Red Templars, and now possibly the Grey Wardens?” Peeling her digits from her eyes, she met Bella’s slightly amused gaze again and grumbled, “That’s just wonderful.”

“Isn’t it though?” Bella retorted, a sympathetic laugh in her voice. Blue eyes glittering with solidarity, she added, “Luckily, I like to balance my bad news with some good. I have a friend in the Grey Wardens named Stroud. He’s hiding out in a smuggler’s cave near Crestwood and he should be able to offer us some insight on what’s going on with his faction.”

Nodding in gratitude, Delani admitted, “That’s more information than we had an hour ago. I’ll have you mark his location on my map, and Cullen can send a few men to scope the area.”

Her blue eyes widened at the mention of Commander Cullen’s name. Excitedly Hawke stated, “Varric told me that he was with the Inquisition!” Turning her amused gaze onto Delani, Bella wondered, “Tell me, does he still make this face when he’s upset?” Bella’s face turned serious, her lips pulling downward with displeasure, her eyes turning hard as though it weren’t possible for her to feel anymore disappointed than she was feeling right then.

A surprised laugh sounded from Delani at the sight of Bella’s face. She knew exactly the expression that the other woman was referring to, having received it at least once or twice since joining the Inquisition. Nodding, Delani was laughing too hard to not choke on her confirmation.

Smiling to herself, Bella informed her, “Oh, I used to get that face all of the time.”

“That’s because you were always putting the moves on him.” Varric explained, a chuckle in his voice and mirth in his brown eyes.

Hawke’s nod was agreeing. “It’s true,” she admitted, a girlish giggle bubbling out of her at the memory. “I had a bit of a crush on him my first few years in Kirkwall. I still haven’t recovered from his lack of interest. My ego bruises easily.”

Turning her attention to the training soldiers, Bella inspected the rows of men below. After a moment of concentration a grin expanded over her face, and she pointed Delani’s attention to the blond haired man with the dark pauldrons covering his shoulders. “Is that him? Training the recruits? Well would you look at that, he’s gotten pretty in the last year.”

The dwarf stepped between Delani and Bella and stared down below. Finding where Cullen was standing, overseeing the training, he commented, “Now, Hawke, I don’t think Fenris would appreciate you making eyes at the Commander.”

“Oh, Fenris knows I have only eyes for him,” she rebuked with a flippant wave of her hand. Grinning to herself she added, “Anyway, if he were here he’d make eyes at Cullen right along side me.”

A moment passed and all the three of them did was watch as Cullen supervised his soldiers' combat training. Leaning her weight on the ledge, Bella observed, “You know what the problem with warriors are?” She glanced at Varric and Delani in time to catch both of them shrugging, gesturing for her to continue with her thought. “They think that brains and brawn are one and the same. Rogues like us need to be twice as fast and four times as smart.”

She pushed herself off of the ledge with an irate shove, grumbling, “We’re the better fighters yet they’re the ones getting all of the recognition. I say someone teaches the Commander what it’s like being brought to your knees by a pair of daggers.”

Delani smiled at the thought, imagining Cullen on his knees before her. “Now that’s a sight I’d like to see.”

“You could,” Bella replied, giving Delani a sidelong glance. When she saw the elf’s gaze snap toward her, Hawke gave Delani her full attention. There was a challenging smirk on her lips, a taunting sparkle in her eyes. Doubtfully shrugging her shoulders, she continued, “That is if you were up to it. I know that you have an image to maintain and all of that.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Delani wasn’t entirely sure that she appreciated the other woman’s tone. Lowly, she returned, “You think I won’t?”

Hawke laughed, the sound was demeaning, goading, making it clear that she didn’t quite believe that Delani would risk doing anything to tarnish the way the public looked at her. “I know you won’t.” She supplied before grinning innocently. “You have a reputation to uphold as Inquisitor. Can’t let the soldiers see you get your ass handed to you by your commander.”

Her jaw fell. Delani blinked hard before shaking the surprise from her features and snapping her mouth back shut. “So not only do you think I won’t challenge him to a sparing match, but you also think that I’m going to lose?”

Bella shrugged, unashamed, refusing to take any of it back. “I could weigh you down with iron, cast you into the Waking Sea, and you’d still float,” she said, her tone challenging Delani to argue with her, daring her to try and prove her wrong. “Tiny little thing like you, I’m not sure you stand a chance against a strong wind, much less Cullen’s Templar training.”

Still standing between the two women, Varric’s attention had been going from Bella to Delani and back again with each word said. Now that Bella had officially made a challenge, Varric wrung his hands together and tried to talk Delani out of whatever was about to go down. “Scarlett, you don’t have to—“

“Fifteen sovereigns says I’ll do it,” Delani shoved her hand between them, her narrowed eyes daring Bella to shake her hand and take the bet. Glare sharpening, she added to her wager, “And twenty more says I win.”

“Put him down in less than ten minutes and I’ll give you forty.” Bella took her hand and gave it a firm shake, her grin wide and victorious.

“Deal.” Delani released Hawke’s hand and turned on her heel. She headed for the battlement’s stairs so that she could go to where Cullen was supervising his men. Over her shoulder, Delani instructed Hawke to, “Watch and learn, Bella.”

Before she made it to the stairs, Delani heard Varric turn to his old friend and say, “You know, Hawke, this is exactly the reason why I can’t take you anywhere.”

“You love it, Tethras,” Hawke replied with a self-satisfied laugh. “And you owe me ten sovereigns. Told you I could bait anyone into anything.”

Delani didn’t have it in her to care that she’d just been goaded into challenging Cullen to a fight. She hadn’t had a chance to speak to the Commander all day. What better way to say hello than by picking a fight with him? There was no way that she was going to lose this bet, even if she had to fight dirty in order to win. Delani only hoped that the Commander would make it the ten minutes. She didn’t want to embarrass him too badly in front of his men.

“Lift your shield,” Cullen shouted at the recruit, his voice booming and authoritative. “Square your shoulders and keep your feet grounded!” The Inquisition’s forces grew everyday but, Maker, some of these recruits were still boys. “If you insist on getting yourself killed, at least make your enemy work for it.”

Waving for the two soldiers to give it another go, Cullen shouted, “Again!” and gave them both a word of praise when their performance improved on the second attempt.

Cullen moved down the line, watching as the combat training went on. Normally he left this task to his captain but, on occasion, he felt the need to supervise training himself. Despite the cool mountain air, there wasn’t a single cloud to disrupt the sun’s rays, and Cullen could feel sweat start to bead on his brow, and dripping down his back.

He glanced at the soldier standing at attention beside him and asked, “How are we doing on water?”

“There are barrels ready, Commander.” the soldier supplied.

Nodding once, Cullen instructed him to, “Make sure everyone is getting plenty to drink. I won’t have anyone falling to dehydration.”

The soldier saluted, “Yes Sir!”

“You sure are working your men hard, vhenan’ara.” He turned at the sound of Delani’s melodic voice coming from behind him. She had a confidence to her step, an eagerness to her gait, a roguishness to her gaze that immediately put Cullen on edge. He knew Delani well enough to know what that look meant: trouble.

Returning his attention to his men, Cullen placed his hands on the pommel of his sword and cleared his throat. He could feel it when she stepped up to stand beside him, could feel her proximity and knew that he could break it with a stretch of his arm. Cullen gave the elf woman a sidelong glance and felt his heart flutter in his chest.

Her auburn hair shone like strands of crimson under the sun, her skin glowing like copper, and her sea green eyes were more brilliant than any gems known to man. She stood almost as tall as his shoulder, her hands on the swell of her hips as she regarded the men training in front of them. Delani was wearing her typical Dalish garbs, her tights hugging her legs snuggly, and her tunic was form fitting, intimately following the shape of her womanly curves. She was the strangest combination of delicate and dangerous, and Cullen found it hard to breathe when he was in her company.

“It’s the best way I know to keep them alive, Inquisitor,” Cullen replied to her observation, trying to keep his tone professional but finding it difficult when she smirked at him like that.

Delani nodded slowly, her lips pursed in thought. He could hear the underlying plot in her tone when she stated, “You train fine warriors, Commander.”

His tone was cautious as he replied, “Thank you,” and he narrowed his eyes a bit.

Cullen could feel that something was about to happen, but he hadn’t the slightest idea what. He could tell just by looking at Delani that she was planning something, he could see the wheels turning behind her sea green eyes, and all he could do was wait for her to let him in on whatever it was. Luckily he didn’t have to wait long.

“So, tell me, vhenan’ara,” she turned her body to face him, the smirk on her lips was wolfish and Cullen swallowed hard. “Have you fought very many enemies?”

She was asking after his qualifications? Now? Cullen couldn’t help but wonder why. He watched as she started to walk a slow circle around him, his curiosity eclipsing the intimidation she’d probably been aiming for.

Without shifting from his position, Cullen turned his head to see her coming back around to his front. “Yes,” he said in answer to her question, his tone firm, controlled, suspicious.

Delani stopped in front of him, her hands resting casually on her hips as she stepped toe to toe with him. The smirk on her lips grew at the sight of his eyes dilating slightly, his nose flaring as he breathed in the mouthwatering scent of wildflowers. She was so close. If Cullen craned his head down a bit he would’ve been able to push his lips against hers, taste her, finally feel her swollen lips pressed against his. Cullen tried desperately not to think about what she would feel like, her body against his. Maker strike him down, his thoughts were starting to warm his blood.

Tilting her head slightly, she asked, “And what would you say is the most difficult adversary you’ve encountered?”

The moment she turned from him was the moment he was free from her spell. He sucked in a deep, calming breath and tried to convince his racing heart back down to a steady beat. Delani walked a few steps away, her gait like that of a wild cat. She was sizing him up, he realized, taking stock of his build and stance. But why? What was she up to?

“Two handed warriors,” he answered truthfully. A warrior who knew how to properly wield a battle axe or a great sword could cut a man in half with a single swing. They took greater damage, and were damn difficult to take down. Men like Iron Bull were easily considered legendary for good reason. Even without lyrium, Cullen’s templar abilities held their own against the strongest of mages, but sometimes a war hammer simply outmatched a sword and shield.

Delani nodded, accepting his answer but also looking disappointed by it. The look she gave him was predatory, the smile on her lips appearing more akin to a snarl. “You warriors,” she started after tsking at him in scolding. “So infatuated with your own strength, as if it were impossible for someone with less brawn to outclass you.”

She sauntered over to the table at the edge of the training grounds, where the practice weapons were laid out for grabs, and Cullen had to tear his gaze from the sway of her hips. Delani walked her fingers over the table’s surface, before turning to face him and leaning her bottom against the table’s edge. Her head was tilted as she gauged him, her auburn hair catching the sunlight and reflecting it like silk.

Sea green eyes narrowed in on him, challenging him, goading him, and Cullen couldn’t help but find the look she was giving him to be mind numbingly sexy. He wondered if this was part of her game, if she was trying to seduce him so that he let his guard down. If it was, it was working.

“How you so easily forget about rogues,” she stated, despondency in her voice as she untied a leather band from her wrist and combed her auburn hair away from her face. Holding her hair back, she managed to tie the leather band into a tight knot and secure her hair into a ponytail.

Cullen swallowed hard. Delani’s hair was always worn down, the crimson strands falling well past her shoulders like silken threads colored by blood. When her hair was pulled back like that, her entire beautiful face revealed to him, he found it difficult to breathe. He could clearly see the scars marring her face, the line of discolored flesh that started at her brow and ended on her cheek, and another on the opposite side of her face that started at the corner of her jaw and traveled toward her mouth.

He’d noticed the scars before, what he hadn’t noticed was that they were lovely, what he hadn’t acknowledged was how badly he wanted to brush a trail of kisses over each of her scars before ending on her lips. Did she even know how beautiful she was? Had she any idea what she was doing to him when she looked at him like that? Cullen fought for control over the warmth spreading through him. He tried to remind himself of the importance of professionalism. She was his superior, he was her general, people were watching.

Keep it together, you fool, he scolded himself, tightening his grip on the pommel of his sword.

Slowly Delani started to undo the knots that kept her snug fitting tunic together and Cullen felt his throat tighten with surprise. Her motions were meant to challenge him, he knew, not seduce him, but the result was the same. With each knot undone Cullen cared less and less for propriety and wanted nothing more than to claim her lips with his own. Maker, where had this woman come from?

Once her tunic was completely undone, it was clear to see that all she wore underneath was a breast band. His blood was pumping in his ears as he watched her shrug out of her tunic. Delani’s vallaslin did not end at her chin. With her chest, shoulders, and torso bare in the daylight, Cullen could clearly see the crimson branch like markings covering her shoulders and traveling over and around her biceps. When she turned around he gaped at the intricate line work coursing down her spine and over her shoulder blades. Her markings were breathtaking, just like the rest of her.

She was thin, comprised primarily by lean muscle and Cullen would be surprised to discover if she had even a shred of fat on her. Her biceps bulged with strength, her stomach was flat, curving and dipping with the shape of her abdominals. Her tunic did her curves no justice, seeing them now was disorienting.

He didn’t know how he felt to discover that the scars on Delani’s face were not the only ones she had. Though they certainly did add to her sex appeal, they also served to remind him that she was not nearly as indestructible as she often pretended to be. Delani could get cut, she could get hurt, she could bleed, and she could die. And that train of thought only served to make him want her all the more. He would protect her, he would serve her, he would do damn near anything for her, and it was a startling realization.

When Delani turned back around it was with a practice sword and shield in hand. She walked only close enough to toss them at him. Luckily Cullen had gathered himself enough to catch the wooden weapon and shield, and not make a fool of himself in front of his men. He stared down at the weapons in confusion, not quite sure what she intended him to do with them.

He glanced back up in time to catch Delani return from the table with a pair of daggers in her hands. She was twirling the wooden blades, before lifting one toward Cullen and grinning devilishly at him. “I think its time I familiarize you with  defeat, Commander.” Her smile grew. “Maybe then, the next time I ask you that question, your answer will be different.”

Cullen looked back down at the practice sword and shield in his hands. She wanted to spar, did she? He allowed a small smile to curl his lips. This was not a game of chess. If Delani wanted to spar then he would not go easy on her. She’d boasted about how her victories were earned, but this one would not be earned so easily; or at all, for that matter.

Striding over to one of the soldiers, who stood gaping at the Inquisitor, Cullen handed the man the practice weapons. He gave the soldier a hard look, wordlessly reprimanding him for gawking at his superior. He didn’t care about Delani’s current state of undress, only he could look at her like that.

Carefully he took off his gloves, then his cloak, his armor, and when he was all the way down to his undershirt, Cullen removed it as well. He glanced at Delani and smiled to himself. Her mouth was hanging open slightly, her eyes wide and dilated. Cullen was pleased to discover that he had the same effect on her as she did on him.

He accepted the practice weapons back from the soldier and turned to face Delani. Allowing a smirk to twitch at the corner of his mouth, Cullen warned her, “I will not go easy on you, my lady.”

The gasp that sounded from her was teasing. “Creators forbid, vhenan’ara.” Her smirk was piercing and, if he’d been a lesser man, Cullen might have reconsidered agreeing to spar with her. “When I bring you to your knees it will be because I put you there with skill alone.”

“Alright, Inquisitor,” he rumbled, growing tired of her arrogance. Arching an eyebrow, Cullen wondered, “Let’s put your skills to the test, shall we?”

The second his question was asked Delani was on the move. She was charging at him and Cullen lifted his shield in order to meet her direct attack. When she twisted out of his shield’s path, he’d been expecting it, and he moved right along side her, keeping his shield between them at all times. Delani was as fast as she was graceful, but she was also over-confident and reckless. And, in the end, his self-control and awareness would see him victorious.

Cullen kept his sword trained on Delani, waiting for her next attack, anticipating for her to come at him bold and brazen again. He only had to wait a short breath before she followed through. Delani ran straight for him before faking to the right, twisting to the left, kicking up her food to jostle his shield, and thrusting her dagger behind the plank of wood.

Her wooden dagger nearly made contact with him. Had he not jumped out of the way when he did, she would have scraped the practice weapon against his stomach. Before Cullen could pin her arm between his shield and his torso, Delani pulled back and rolled away, swiveling on her knees until she was kneeling behind him.

He retaliated just in time to bring his shield around to meet her wooden dagger. The sound of cheering faintly registered in the background of his mind. Cullen was only partially aware that they were being watched, their audience growing as their fight went on. For the time being, Delani had his undivided attention. If that stopped being true for even a second, it could cost him the fight.

Cullen pushed his shield forward and Delani leaped back a step. A laugh sounding from her, provoking him. When he swiped his sword at her she was no longer standing where she'd just been. He turned a second before her dagger could make contact with his cheek, parrying the attack with his sword. She turned her body out of the way of his shield coming down on her, and again she was circling him.

Keeping his gaze trained on Delani, he followed her as she circled him, not allowing her to get a view of his back. She twirled the daggers in her hands, putting on a show for their audience as the two of them circled one another. Having had quite enough of her arrogance, Cullen was the first to make a move and he realized too late that it was exactly what she’d wanted.

Delani watched as he charged at her, his practice sword lifted and ready to strike. The moment that he was within sweeping distance she ducked out of the blade’s path, bounced off of his shield and wound up behind him. Cullen reacted quickly, pulling his shield around to catch the brunt of her next attack. It was exactly what she’d been expecting.

As Cullen moved his shield bearing arm to deflect her attack, Delani moved with his momentum and managed to rip his shield from his grasp. It happened so quickly. One moment Cullen was moving, could feel the air flow around him, his sweat beading down his back, his breath expelling from him, and then he blinked and Delani had a grasp on his shield and followed his movements until she was able to rip the straps from his arm.

His recovery was seamless, firmly adjusting his grip on his sword. He smirked at the sight of premature victory shining in her eyes. She thought that without his shield he would no longer be able to hold his own against her, but Cullen was a warrior. His blade was an extension of himself. He was not weaker without his shield, he simply had more mobility this way.

He swung his sword left and right, goading Delani like she had goaded him. Victory shone bright in her eyes, arrogance pulling at her lips, and just like that she had taken the bait. Delani ran toward him, her pace casual, as though she were just drawing out the fight. Later Cullen would shake his head at her overconfidence, now he was going to teach her that even practice blades left bruises.

Cullen jabbed at Delani with his blade, and she pivoted out of the way. Arching her body to the side she slashed her dagger toward him only for his sword to block the blow. When she tried to follow up the attack with her second dagger, Cullen backed up a step, brought up his wooden sword to catch the attack, and parried the blow with enough force to send the dagger flying.

Another cheer broke out now that the fight appeared to be even, though it wasn’t. Cullen could manage just fine without his shield, but Delani’s every instinct demanded two daggers. With only one, it was like Cullen had removed an arm and no amount of arrogance was going to save her from defeat.

Lifting his practice blade above his head, a roar bellowed from him as he brought the wooden sword down. Delani sidestepped his attack and ended up standing beside him. With viperlike reflexes she attempted to stab her wooden blade down, to catch him in the neck, but Cullen lifted his forearm to collide with hers, stopping her attack mid-strike.

The world slowed for a moment when his eyes met hers. In the span of a second her eyes narrowed with outrage, a smirk coiled her lips, and Cullen felt himself falling to the ground. Delani had swiped his legs out from under him, and Cullen had enough sense to react before she jabbed his chest with her wooden dagger. Just barely rolling completely out of her path, he kicked himself back onto his feet and lifted his sword in time to defend himself against a series of serpent like strikes.

Cullen met each blow with his sword, allowing her to continue to strike him until she’d worn herself out. The moment that he noticed her movements start to slow, he changed the flow of their battle. Instead of brunting her attacks, Cullen returned them with force and fervor. Soon Delani was being pushed back, unable to avoid him even if she tried to twirl, spin, or leap out of his path. Cullen stayed on her, kept bearing down on her, gave her no quarter until it was clear in her sea green eyes that she knew that he had won.

Just when Cullen thought that the match was his, Delani surprised him. She raised her dagger to meet his sword as it fell toward her, like she’d already done several times before. The moment their wooden weapons met there was the slightest of openings, and Delani used it to launch herself at Cullen. Surprised by the suddenness of her attack, Cullen was tackled to the ground by the tiny elven woman.

They rolled, and he had enough self-awareness to move his practice sword into position. The moment that their bodies stopped moving, the moment the dust settled, Cullen allowed a victorious grin to spread over his lips. His wooden sword was hovering just over Delani’s neck, a fatal blow should this have been a real fight.

“It appears my answer remains unchanged, Inquisitor,” he said, not bothering to try and disguise his simper.

Delani lifted her head off of the ground and snapped her teeth at him, their lips nearly touching at her proximity. When Cullen immediately felt his cheeks flush at the gesture, a mischievous grin expanded over her lovely lips and she purred, “I wouldn’t be so sure, Commander.”

He felt a tapping on his side, and looked down only to find that her dagger was positioned in what would have easily been a killing blow as well. A laugh spilled out of him and Cullen shook his head. Looking back down at Delani, he murmured, “It looks like we have a draw.”

Shrugging, Delani picked her head up again and brought her face so dangerously close to his. Cullen froze at her proximity, focusing on the smell of her filling his nose. Her voice was deep when she next spoke, husky yet sweet like smoked applewood. “Then perhaps we should have a tie breaker.”

Suddenly he realized their position. Cullen had the Inquisitor pinned down, his weight imprisoning her beneath him. Their lips were near to touching, and both of them were wearing next to nothing. How many times had he already fantasized about getting her into this position? In none of those fantasies did he have a courtyard full of onlookers, cheering over their impressive show of skill.

Cullen jumped off of Delani faster than he thought physically possible. Offering her his hand, he helped her back onto her feet as well. Once she was standing Delani tried to reclaim her fingers from his, but Cullen tightened his hold on her hand. With a gentle tug he pulled her a step closer to him. Cullen dipped his head down a bit, bringing his mouth to her pointed ear.

The smell of her was intoxicating, emboldening him with a courage reserved for the drunk. It must have been the adrenaline of a good fight, but suddenly Cullen could care less about propriety or professionalism. Delani Lavellan was a woman with no equal, and he wanted her for himself.

“That was fun,” he admitted, his voice a deep and vibrating rumble. “But you’re going to have to try a bit harder if you want to put me on my knees, Delani.”

Her eyes widened at the sound of her name, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in a deep, surprised breath. Cullen watched in amazement as, for the first time in their entire relationship, a blush started to spread over Delani’s cheeks. The way she was looking at him was as though she were seeing him for the first time, and Cullen had to bite back a sense of self-satisfaction that grew with the knowledge that he had made her blush.

“I—um.. What I mean to say is—” she stammered, blinking rapidly as she tried to gather her bearings. With a quick shake of her head, Delani recovered herself enough to allow a small abashed smile to curl her lips. She looked shy and self-conscious, and Cullen wondered how one woman could have so many different sides.

Carefully holding his gaze, Delani replied, “Then I will have to try harder next time, my heart’s desire.”

He’d had to strain to hear the last part of her sentence, but hear it he did. Cullen held her beautiful green gaze and he knew. True to her word, Delani had finally translated her nickname for him. At last he knew what vhenan’ara  meant: my heart’s desire. The only thing that kept him from kissing her was the feeling of a hundred eyes watching them closely.

Chapter Text

What had started as foolish confidence had quickly turned into unbearable anxiety. Cullen had been so bold that day on the practice grounds, too bold it seemed. After their little sparring match Delani had wasted no time packing up and heading out to meet with Hawke’s contact in the Wardens. She’d left for Crestwood without so much as a goodbye, and Cullen knew that he’d made a mistake.

He’d called her by her first name. Cullen had succumbed after weeks, months, of professionalism and restraint, and he’d finally addressed the Inquisitor as Delani, as if it were his right to call her that. In exchange she’d finally told him what vhenan’ara meant, fulfilling the terms of an arrangement that he had never agreed to. The meaning of the elven word hadn’t stopped humming through his veins, more seductive than the lure of lyrium.

My heart’s desire. All this time she’d been telling him right to his face exactly how she felt about him. He’d assumed it to be a nickname, like the ones that Varric so generously handed out. Learning that it was more than a nickname, more than a pet name, but an admission to romantic feelings… the thought made Cullen grin without restraint. Perhaps Delani felt the same about him as he did her, after all. He needed to talk with her about this, about what would change in their relationship—if anything at all. But he couldn’t talk to her until she returned from her journeys.

Two weeks had already passed and still Delani was out on the field. Reports said she would be back soon, but suddenly Cullen was nervous about seeing her again. What if she’d been calling him vhenan’ara just to enjoy a private joke. Or maybe she said it the same way that Vivienne called everyone ‘darling’. He tried to recall if she’d ever called anyone else by his pet name, but no one else came to mind. Delani referred to Solas as Lethallin and to Cole as da’len, but aside from them no one else had earned names in her native tongue.

Cullen’s fingers were drumming on the surface of his desk as he thought, too distracted by his restless mind to focus on the field reports waiting for his attention. He knew that he needed to speak with Delani, what he didn’t know was what he would say. After two weeks to think and plan he still had no idea how the conversation would transpire.

He knew what he wanted to happen. Cullen wanted to speak privately with Delani, perhaps in the chapel beside the garden, and he wanted to ask her what she meant when she called him vhenan’ara. Not what the words meant, but what the words meant to her when she used them on him. Did she truly feel romantically toward him? Was it even possible? And if she did, did she want anything to come of it?

His desires were easy. Cullen wanted Delani. He wanted to hold her, he wanted to kiss her, he wanted to taste her, and breathe her in. Cullen wanted to learn everything that there was to know about her, and none of that mattered until he knew whether or not she wanted the same things. What she wanted was all that mattered to him. If being with him was actually something that she wanted, then he would pursue what came next. If not… if not, he would be disappointed but he would understand.

When it became clear that he would get no work done while his mind was adrift in the clouds, Cullen pushed himself out of his seat and left his office behind. Leliana had been getting frequent reports from her crows in regards to Delani’s progress. If anyone could tell him when he should expect the Inquisitor to be back, it was she.

Crossing the walkway that led from his office to the main hall, Cullen entered the finely painted cylindrical room. Solas was seated at his desk, contemplating an artifact of some kind. The apostate looked up from his task and bowed his head in respectful greeting at the sight of the Commander entering his workspace.

Cullen nodded in kind before finding the winding stairwell that would take him to the library and then to Leliana’s rookery. He and Solas had spoken on a few occasions, enough for Cullen to get an accurate read on the apostate. Solas was wise, opinionated, proud, and a good friend to Delani. His words held weight to the Inquisitor, sometimes more weight than they should have. He was respectful and mindful of those around him and so, even if Cullen was cautious towards him, he did not dislike the elf.

He climbed the last step to the library and started around the loop that would take him to the next stairway, only to be intercepted by a mustached Tevinter mage. Dorian stepped out in front of him, mischief in his smile and trouble in his grey eyes. Cullen sighed at the sight of Dorian’s devilish expression, and fought back a small smile at the same time.

Dorian had this way about him. He could be the most arrogant and narcissistic brat that had ever lived, while also being the most charming, kind hearted, and thoughtful person in the room. Sometimes maintaining conversation with the man was equal parts dizzying and intriguing. Though Cullen’s objective was to pester Leliana on whether or not she knew when to expect Delani’s return, he welcomed the distraction Dorian promised to be. Truly any distraction from thoughts of the Inquisitor were welcome right about now.

“My, my, Commander,” Dorian started in that playful sing song way of his. “Where are we off to in such a hurry?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, allowing himself to detour from his course in order to speak with the mage. Stepping into the little nook Dorian had claimed for himself, Cullen offered the other man a sideways smile as greeting and turned his attention out the window.

Resting his hands on the pommel of his sword, Cullen answered Dorian’s question. “I was going to speak to Lady Leliana,” he admitted, his gaze still on the snowy mountains surrounding Skyhold. “I was curious to see if she knew when the Inquisitor was expected to be returning.”

“Again?” Dorian asked, a laugh in his voice that was just mocking enough to pull a narrowed look from Cullen. Rubbing his chin curiously, he investigated, “Weren’t you just here a few days ago after the same information?”

“I—“ Cullen felt his cheeks burn and he cleared his throat. Straightening his spine, he recovered, “I have pressing matters to discuss with the Inquisitor.”

Dorian’s grey eyes sharpened a touch, the look he gave the Commander was knowing. Graciously deciding to not provoke Cullen further, he stated, “I imagine that Lady Leliana’s answer remains unchanged, Commander. Crestwood may not be far in regards to distance, but I can guess that the journey is tiring all the same.”

Quirking a curious eyebrow, Cullen wondered, “Is that why you didn’t go?”

A smile curled Dorian’s lips. He absently twirled his mustache as he answered, “Oh no. I didn’t go because I was not invited.” His words implied that Dorian felt slighted over being left behind, but his tone spoke only of relief and gratitude because of the same reason.

Sighing, he added, “Honestly, I’d gotten enough of dreary weather and undead in the Fallow Mire. Lady Lavellan leaving me behind was an act of righteous mercy, and I will have to thank her properly upon her return; perhaps with a bottle of fine Orlesian wine.” Dorian continued to twirl his mustache as he thought over the proper gift. “It’s not nearly as good as the wine we have in Tevinter, but it will do.”

Allowing a small smile to hint at his lips, Cullen regarded the mage closely. Dorian was an odd man, but a good one all the same. There had been a point in Cullen’s life where he’d simply refused to believe that mages could be treated like people. He’d been wrong. Dorian was a person, he had his faults —even if he refused to acknowledge them as such— he had his weaknesses, and he was good. Cullen had hated mages, but that hate had dissipated over the years. Now when he looked at Dorian he could see beyond the magic, he could see the person, Cullen could see a friend.

“How are you liking the Inquisition, Dorian?” Cullen asked, walking further into the nook so that he would be able to lean against the window. Without looking over his shoulder to where Dorian was still standing, he added, “What are your thoughts on the Inquisitor?”

“Always with the questions. You sure are a curious lot, aren’t you?” Dorian groaned as he eased himself into the large chair surrounded by piles upon piles of books. “I suppose that’s why they call you the Inquisition.”

After snickering softly to himself, Dorian quickly moved on to answer Cullen’s questions. “The Inquisition is still in its adolescence, dear Cullen.” When Cullen glanced back, the mage was seated languidly in his chair, hands behind his head and more comfortable than any person had any right to be. “Against a force like the one Corypheus has, well, we stand a chance though it might not be a very good one.”

Dorian sighed. “I suppose if I’m going to die for any particular cause, it may as well be this one.” After a moment he moved on to Cullen’s second question. “In regards to Delani, well, she is a treat.”

At the mention of Delani, Cullen gave Dorian his full attention. He crossed his arms comfortably over his chest and leaned his back against the brick wall. Pursuing the topic, he wondered, “How so?”

“She’s a fiery ball of snark and sass, that one,” Dorian answered with a laugh. “She has the perfect balance of cunning and insanity to give me hope that we may have the slightest chance. I’ve grown quite fond of her, if I’m being perfectly honest. I find her dry wit endearing. And her smiles are a rare enough commodity for me to cherish the few I earn.”

Cullen rose a brow at that. He recalled all of the interactions that he had shared with Delani. During a vast majority of them Cullen had witnessed Delani’s smile in some shape or another. The curl of her lips was enchanting, alluring, intoxicating, but they were not that hard to come by. If Cullen managed to embarrass himself just so he was always rewarded with a smile. He decided to call Dorian out on his nonsense.

“What are you on about, Ser Pavus?” Cullen asked, genuinely confused as to whether or not they were speaking about the same person. “I would hardly go so far as to call Lady Lavellan’s smiles ‘rare’.”

Another laugh burst out from Dorian. He was amused by the confusion on Cullen’s face, finding the Commander’s ignorance entertaining. When he noticed that Cullen did not share in his amusement, Dorian forced his grin down a degree and bit back the rest of his laughter. Regarding Cullen as though he were a clueless child, he explained, “That is because our fair Inquisitor has a soft spot for you, Commander.”

His heart leapt at that. Cullen stared hard at Dorian, wordlessly demanding an explanation. Was it true? Did Delani truly share her smiles with him because she cared about him? It was too much to hope for. Though, the evidence was there. She called him her heart’s desire, and her behavior towards him was enough to draw the attention of onlookers. Perhaps Delani having feelings for him was not as impossible as it seemed.

“I can’t say I blame her,” Dorian went on, unaware of Cullen’s internal turmoil. He gave Cullen an astute once over before returning his attention to his cuticles and commenting, “She has good taste in men. I know a good looking man when I see one; which is every time I look in a mirror, which is often, I can’t help myself.”

Cullen cleared his throat at Dorian’s observation, feeling a telling heat burn under the surface of his skin. “I—uh… Thank you..?” He would take the compliment and the information he’d gathered with it. Delani had feelings for him, what exactly they were, and how strong, he didn’t know yet. Once she returned they would discuss it at length, Cullen just needed to figure out what exactly he would say to her.

Giving Dorian a departing smile, Cullen excused himself from the conversation. “Thank you for your time, Dorian, but I must be on my way.”

When Cullen walked back the way he came, towards the descending stairwell instead of the one that led to the rookery, Dorian called after him. “I thought that you had to speak to our spy master?”

“Another time perhaps,” he replied over his shoulder. “There is much work to be done.” Cullen left the library and returned to the path that would take him to his office. Delani would be back soon, it was what Leliana would have told him if he asked. Her being away from Skyhold meant that he had some more time to strategize what he was going to say to her.

Snow broke under her feet, the white powder giving way to the trudge of her boots. Delani was dragging her feet and she knew it, but the very thought of returning to Skyhold made her sick. Cullen was at Skyhold, and she was going to have to face him eventually. Her stomach turned and Delani took a deep breath to chase away the nervous anxiety taking root in her gut.

After months of practically begging for him to call her by her name, he finally had. She’d been goaded by Hawke into a bet and challenged Cullen to a sparring match. The whole thing had left her breathless, the memory of it still stole the oxygen from her lungs.

Cullen had followed her lead and undressed until he stood bare chested before her. She’d gaped at him, her jaw hitting the ground at the sight of ropes on top of ropes of muscle. He had wide set shoulders and an expansive chest, his biceps were thick and strong, his abdominals were mouthwateringly defined, and he had this thicket of golden hair that started at his navel and traveled down to the waistband of his trousers.

Delani remembered how her eyes had widened at the sight of him, how her stomach had fluttered, and how her blood had warmed. He’d put up a better fight than she had expected him to. Perhaps it was arrogance, but Delani had been so sure that she could take him down within ten minutes time. As it turned out, Cullen was a better sparring partner than she’d anticipated, and their little dance had left her hot and bothered by the end of it.

Feeling his weight pressing down on top of her, his face only a few inches from hers. It had been something straight out of her fantasies, and Delani had wanted to steal his lips with hers so badly. When she tactlessly brought attention to their precarious position, Cullen had leaped from on top of her as though he might catch a disease. Delani had immediately missed his weight, his warmth, the feeling of his sweat slickened body pressed against hers.

He’d pulled her onto her feet, chivalrous and respectful as always, but instead of letting her go he had pulled her closer. The act of tugging her toward him had been strange enough, but then he’d said it, Cullen had called her by her name.

“You’re going to have to try a bit harder if you want to put me on my knees, Delani.”

His voice had been a low, seductive, sensual rumble. The sound of it had been an odd combination of sedating and invigorating, comforting and challenging, it had been an invitation and a provocation. Her heart had picked up in pace, drumming excitedly against her ears, her blood had warmed until she’d been fidgety with needy discomfort. Cullen had said her name and her entire body had awoken at the sound of it.

She had made a deal with him. When he finally decided to address her by her name she would tell him what vhenen’ara meant. Delani did not back away from deals. He had held up his part of the bargain, and all that was left for her to hold up her own. Feeling nerves grow in her gut, she’d told him the meaning.

“Then I will have to try harder next time, my heart’s desire.”

My heart’s desire. She’d translated the words for him and then she had fled. Delani had put together a team as quickly as possible, giving Blackwall, Vivienne, and Cassandra next to no time to prepare. After announcing to Hawke that she was ready to go to Crestwood now, right now, they’d all left Skyhold in search of Hawke’s friend in the Wardens.

It had been quite the relief to be away from Skyhold, away from Cullen, for some time. After her admission, Delani was certain that he thought that she was a mad woman. What kind of person gave someone they barely knew a pet name like ‘my heart’s desire’? Crazy people, that’s who. And that was probably what Cullen now thought of her.

Delani groaned as she dragged a hand down her face. They were so close to Skyhold now, with Stroud and valuable information in tow. They would be there soon, and she was going to have to face Cullen. He was going to tell her how uncomfortable she made him, how her interest in him was unreciprocated, and he was going to tell her that he thought it was best if their relationship stayed professional.

Ugh. She’d been a fool, a complete and total fool. And now she was going to have to see what that foolishness had earned her.

When Bella Hawke strode up beside her, Delani had barely noticed her until it was already too late. The sound of the other woman’s mischievous voice shocked her out of her thoughts and back into reality.

“What’s with the glower, Inquisitor?” asked Bella, a smile in her voice that was also present in her eyes. When Delani turned to look at the taller woman, Bella explained, “You’ve been scowling ever since we left Crestwood.”

A mahogany eyebrow quirked and the corner of Bella’s lips tilted up into a foxy smirk. Her tone was teasing when she ventured, “You’re not in a sour mood because we’re returning to Skyhold, and you have to see Cullen again; are you?” Her smirk grew into a grin at the sight of Delani’s eyes widening with surprise. Shrugging, she elaborated, “You know, because he beat you.”

A breath of relief escaped her. Bella was right, but only partly so. Narrowing her eyes on the human, Delani corrected her observation, “He did not beat me; it was a draw.” Giving Bella a nettled look, she finished, “And you still owe me coin, Hawke.”

“No,” Bella replied with an indignant shake of her head. Her curls bounced around her face, her pale skin was rosy from the cold, and her blue eyes had a lively shine as she reminded Delani about the terms of their wager. “I already paid you for challenging him. The rest of the coin was if you’d won. And, like you said, it was a draw.”

Delani’s only reply was a disgruntled huff and a shake of her head.

“Although,” Bella bumped her arm against Delani’s in a playful manner. “There is still some unresolved tension between the two of you, much in need of release; you know the kind I’m referring to, don’t you, Inquisitor?”

She gave the shemlan a sidelong glance. Delani did in fact know the kind of tension that Hawke was referring to, and she also knew that Bella had no idea what she was talking about. There was no sexual tension between her and Cullen. ‘Sexual tension’ would require romantic desires from both mentioned parties. Delani wanted Cullen, she wanted to be with him, but what would a man like him ever want with an elf? At any rate, it hardly mattered. She’d scared him off good and proper already. Whatever chances she’d once had with Cullen were as good as gone.

Noticing the doubtful look in Delani’s features, Bella rolled her eyes in annoyance. She glanced back at their companions, making sure that they had sufficient room for a veneer of privacy to have this conversation. Satisfied that no one would over hear them, Bella’s attention returned to Delani and a smile unraveled on her heart shaped lips.

“Come now, Delani,” Bella started as though she were speaking to a child. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other. There is definitely something there, whether or not you believe it.”

Delani also looked back at their companions. They were trailing some distance behind, conversing among themselves as she and Bella led them back to Skyhold. Returning her attention forward they walked a few steps before she sucked in a deep breath and replied.

“Whatever chance I had with the Commander was ruined,” Delani admitted, watching her feet as she continued to press the group forward. “I doubt he’ll even want to look at me now.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Bella said with a scoff. The look she gave Delani was scolding, her sharp blue eyes narrowed with disappointment. “I pursued that man for years, Delani.” she reminded her. “I used all my best moves and everything. And believe you me, I can be charming when I want to be.”

Sounding both exasperated and incredulous, Bella informed her, “He never so much as batted an eyelash at me. But with you,” she shook her head, and Delani’s heart began to swell with hope. When the other woman’s blue eyes returned to Delani they were twinkling with mirth. “The way he looks at you, some might think that the sun shines out your ass.”

A surprised laugh sounded from Delani. She didn’t want to believe it, of course, but Bella had no reason to lie. They got along together well enough, but it wasn’t reason enough for her to lie in attempt to comfort her. If Hawke insisted that she saw something between Delani and Cullen it had to be because there was something truly there; which meant that maybe Delani’s feelings weren’t so unrequited.

Solas had said something similar before, but she’d refused to believe it. The safety of her clan had been too hefty a worry for her to consider something romantic with Cullen. Now her clan was safe, thanks to the man, and she no longer had the luxury of that excuse. Bella was now the second person who’d told her that her feelings were mirrored. Even so, Delani wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to do with that information.

“Though we weren’t ever really friends, I’ve known Cullen for years,” Bella continued speaking over Delani’s thoughts. “That man is controlled and professional to a fault. Do you know what I didn’t see much of during your little sparring match?” Hawke waited for Delani to answer and when all she did was look at the human expectantly, Bella sighed and supplied for her, “Professionalism or self-control.”

Hawke’s smile was warm, friendly, encouraging. Her eyes were bright with ideas and plots and the look she gave her made Delani only the slightest bit nervous. “You did that,” she stated, the grin on her lips was loud in her voice. “You brought down his walls, if only a little. The attention that Cullen gives you is singular and undivided, and I sincerely doubt that there is anything that you can ever do that will ‘ruin’ the way he feels about you.”

An unfamiliar warmth was spreading through Delani, hope and something else filling her to the brim. She wanted to believe everything that Bella was telling her, she wanted to think that she hadn’t destroyed whatever chance she had with Cullen. The problem was that, even if she hadn’t, Delani didn’t know what to do next. She looked back at the others again, making sure that their false sense of privacy still stood strong.

Satisfied that their conversation would continue to go unheard —or at least ignored— Delani looked back at Hawke and asked, “Then what should I do? I’m the Inquisitor, he is my general. I can’t possibly simply walk up to him and profess my feelings.”

“And why not?” Bella demanded after making a semi-insulted pfft noise. Eyebrow knitting with patronizing curiosity, she asked, “How else is he supposed to know how you feel?”

Delani didn’t answer, instead she set her jaw and ground her teeth. Bella was right of course. Delani was usually better about being open and honest with her feelings, but thoughts of Cullen made her nervous. She had never been with a human before, romantically or otherwise. When they trudged around the bend of the mountain Skyhold came into view and Delani knew that she didn’t have much time left to come up with a battle plan.

Sighing beside her, Bella pulled Delani’s attention back onto her and offered the Inquisitor an encouraging smirk. “A word of advice, Inquisitor: don’t pussyfoot this subject. Fenris and I wasted a lot of time before finally finding our way into each other’s arms.” Bella’s gaze grew distant when she talked about Fenris. It was obvious by the set of her jaw that she missed her man, and Delani would never understand why she had left him behind in the first place.

A small morose smile curled the corner of Hawke’s mouth. With her gaze on Skyhold, she stated, “All that time could have been spent with the man I love, but instead we both hid from our feelings instead of admitting to them.” She shook her head and averted her gaze onto Delani, the twist of her lips was still a touch melancholy when she observed, “Life is short when you live the way we do. Tomorrow is always uncertain, our next battle could be our last. When you find someone that you care for you latch onto them for as long as you can.”

“If you have feelings for Cullen you need to be honest with yourself and with him.” Bella advised, her typical sarcasm was gone from her voice. This was not a topic that she took lightly, and it was one that she obviously wanted to help Delani with. Her advice was welcome, and her council was being taken to heart. “If you want to be with him you need to tell him as much, only then will you know if he wants the same thing. And the only way to do that is to talk to him.”

Delani let out a heavy huff and directed her attention forward once more. She and Hawke both allowed silence to rejoin the group, and she continued to lead them back toward Skyhold. Bella was right. For all her deflection and sarcasm Bella was a very caring and insightful individual. She and Delani barely knew each other, and still she’d given her solid advice gained from experience and out of respectful empathy. Suddenly Varric’s fondness for the human wasn’t so strange. It was easy to see why Hawke had garnered such loyalty from her companions. She was a remarkable woman.

Her mind was made. When Delani returned to Skyhold she would get herself cleaned up and then she would speak to Cullen. The thought made her so nervous she felt like she could vomit. It had to be done and she knew it. Her feelings for Cullen weren’t going to pass, and pining over him from a distance would get her nowhere. Delani was going to take the guesswork out of it. She was going to tell Cullen how she felt. He either felt the same way or he didn’t, and she was going to find out one way or another.

His conversation with Dorian had made it a bit easier for him to focus on his work. Cullen was no longer concerned about when Delani would return to Skyhold because he knew that eventually she would return. He rehearsed his lines as he thumbed through paperwork, reciting to himself what he would say upon her arrival. He had already made up for all the work he’d struggled with earlier, and was making good headway in finishing the rest.

Keeping his hands busy was also helping to calm the unsteadiness in his gut. He was nervous and antsy. Delani would be back soon, which meant that he would have to speak to her, he would have to confess his feelings for her and he hoped to the Maker that they were not one sided.

Cullen didn’t hear the door to his office open until it was too late. Quickly glancing up from his paperwork, he did a double take when he saw that it was Delani who had entered his quarters. He hadn’t even realized that she’d returned. Apparently his work had been a better distraction than he anticipated it would be.

“Inquisitor—“ he stammered, surprised, all tact and confidence stolen from him by the suddenness of her appearance.

Awkwardly standing from his seat, Cullen took in her appearance. She’d taken the time to bathe before coming to see him, which meant that she’d been back for some time now. Her auburn hair was still damp, the strands drying in shiny waves. Her clothes were fresh and the smell of wildflowers reached him from his place behind his desk. Delani’s expression was serious, a wall built of stone and steel put up against him. Her lips were a thin line, and her sea green eyes were absent their usual mirth. Her strange demeanor was disconcerting, and Cullen’s nervousness redoubled.

“Cullen,” she started, her tone serious, absent the private jesting he’d grown so accustomed to hearing. “I need to speak with you,” Delani glanced to the soldier standing beside the door and set her jaw before moving her hard gaze back onto him, “alone.”

“Alone?” He repeated, uncertain whether or not he wanted to really have the conversation that they were about to have. By the looks of Delani, he didn’t think that it was going to be a good one. And still she was the Inquisitor and he was her general, he was her advisor, if she wanted to speak to him then it was his job to listen.

Cullen cleared his throat. “Right,” he said, swallowing down the dread that threatened to rear its nasty head. Walking toward the door, he gestured for her to lead the way out onto the battlements. “After you, my lady.”

They left his office behind and stepped out into another beautiful day at Skyhold. The air was crisp, and the unbroken sunlight made the temperature comfortable. Sucking in a deep, steadying breath, Cullen attempted to calm his nerves and failed.

Unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck, he observed, “It’s a nice day.”

Delani didn’t respond, only continued to lead him further out onto the battlements. Her shoulders were stiff, her posture uncharacteristically closed off. When she finally stopped, she turned around to face him and Cullen could see the uncertainty in her eyes. Grinding her teeth, she started, “Cullen—“ only to be cut off by him.

“What you said,” he wanted to let her speak, he knew that the proper thing to do was to let her go first, but Cullen feared what she might say. He didn’t want her to speak without her knowing how he felt, propriety be damned. “Vhenan’ara, it means my heart’s desire, doesn’t it?”

Delani blinked slowly and held her eyes shut. She took a deep breath, her nose flaring, and her features scrunched up slightly with what he assumed to be embarrassment. When she opened her eyes again, the confirmation was already in those sea green depths before she gave voice to the words. “It does.”

His heart soared, and Cullen coaxed it back down. The confirmation didn’t mean anything until she said it did. He needed to push the conversation along, he needed to know how she truly felt. “Is it—“ he paused, considering his wording. “Am I truly…”

A small, self-conscious smile started to twist the corner of her mouth and Delani shrugged. She looked away from him, her eyes searching the horizon, the heavens, the battlements, and the courtyard, everywhere but him. When she finally met his gaze again he could clearly see her nervousness, recognizing it as the same kind he felt in himself.

“The heart wants what it wants,” she started, her voice soft and hesitant, “whether or not it’s an appropriate time to want it.”

Cullen opened his mouth to reply, but she interrupted him before he could. “Look, Cullen,” her voice was firm, clear, and full of a forced confidence that he found enviable. “I have developed feelings for you, and I think that it’s only fair that I’m honest with you about them.”

Mistaking the surprise in his features as something else, she quickly moved to salvage her statement. “I understand if you don’t feel the same, I just wanted to…” she let the sentence hang there for a second and Cullen completely understood what it was she was trying to say.

His heart did a backflip in his chest, elation and excitement coursing like electricity through his bloodstream. She had feelings for him. Delani Lavellan, the Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor had feelings for him. What in Andraste’s blessed name had he ever done to be deserving of her affections?

The combination of nerves and excitement was heady and Cullen was having a difficult time articulating his feelings into words. Awkwardly, he tried anyway. “I can’t say that I haven’t wondered what I would say to you in this situation.” Because it would be a boldfaced lie. It had been exactly what Cullen had spent the majority of the day doing, and every line rehearsed had fled from him the moment of Delani’s arrival.

“You have?” she asked, surprised by the admission. Her eyes shined brighter with his words, the protective wall that she’d built against him was starting to chip and Cullen could already see her typical jovial demeanor shining through. Her voice rang with uncertainty when she attempted to clarify. “You mean that you also—“

“Have developed feelings for you as well?” He finished for her, a small laugh tumbling out of him. Nodding, Cullen assured her, “Yes, and they grow harder to ignore with each passing day.”

Tilting her head curiously, Delani’s smile started to surface, her expression turning hopeful. Quietly she wondered, “What’s stopping you?”

“You’re the Inquisitor,” he supplied as though it were answer enough, when her brow rose he knew that it wasn’t. Rubbing the back of his neck he continued, “We’re at war… I didn’t think it was possible.”

Finally her smile unearthed. It was small, gentle, and heartwarming. Delani was regarding Cullen with a look that filled him with confidence. She wanted him as badly he wanted her, all that he needed to do was take the first step. “It’s possible, Cullen.” she stated with a laugh that sounded suspiciously self-conscious and uncertain. “Not only is it possible but I’m also standing right here.”

He smiled at that and took a small step toward her. “So you are,” replied Cullen, his voice low. He took another step, a longer one this time. “It seems too much to ask.” Each step he took in her direction, Delani took one back, until he had her pressed against the sturdy battlement’s ledge. He tilted his face down and his lips whispered over hers, “But I want to—“

“Commander,” the sound of one of Cullen’s soldiers interrupted them before his lips could make blessed contact with hers. Cullen felt his hackles rise, fury and annoyance burned through him as he turned to face the moron who thought that now was a good time to approach him.

Unaware of the ire he was arousing, the soldier continued along as though he weren’t interrupting a very important moment. “You wanted a copy of sister Leliana's report—” He looked up from the report in his hand in time to catch the rage burning behind Cullen’s eyes.

From behind him, Delani growled, “You can either leave that report on his desk, or you can be thrown off of the battlements. One way or the other, I want you out of my sight before I get to the count of three.”

The soldier looked from Delani to Cullen and when he saw that the Commander wasn’t going to disagree with her statement, his mouth fell open with surprise. Delani started to count, “One,” and immediately he started to back away with a meek, “Or to your office. Right.” and ran before he could find out if Delani would be true to her word.

Cullen turned around to face Delani again. Her eyes were bright with amusement and frustration, and he was so glad to see that what remained of the wall she’d put up earlier was gone for good. She was back to normal, snark and sass returned to their proper places. She gave him a sideways smile, a challenge in her voice when she next spoke.

“You were saying?”

Without further invitation necessary, Cullen closed the gap between them once again. He crushed his lips against hers, claiming her mouth with his own. Burying his fingers in her hair, he marveled at how soft she was, her lips, her skin, her hair, everything about her was soft while she herself was strong to her very core. Delani was consuming, just being in her presence always managed to leave him breathless, but now she was literally stealing the breath from his lungs.

Her tongue snaked out, cajoling his lips for entrance. Granting her access, Cullen’s tongue eagerly greeted her, welcoming the taste of her in his mouth. She was sweet, and tasted of wild freedom. As their tongues danced, Cullen felt himself becoming thoroughly enthralled by her, he needed more, he would always need more. She tasted of sin and desire, and righteousness and victory. Delani was the kind of woman that inspired songs, and Cullen was overwhelmed by her.

When their lips finally parted he couldn’t remember how to formulate language. He cleared his throat in attempt to gather his bearings. “I’m sorry…” he started, though he wasn’t really. If he was sorry about anything it was that he needed to breathe; if the intake of oxygen wasn’t necessary he wouldn’t have ever pulled his lips from hers. Blinking his mind back into focus, he finished, “That was really nice.”

“Really nice?” she said with a scoff. Giving him a playful glare, Delani grabbed him by the front of his cloak and pulled him back toward her. She stood on the tips of her toes and stated, “Come now, Cullen, we can do better than that.”

He felt his ears burn with the challenge. A soft chuckle spilled out of him. Holding her by the nape of the neck, he lowered his mouth back to hers and whispered, “We certainly can, Delani,” before kissing her again.

Chapter Text

When Delani had decided to go visit Dorian in the library she hadn’t anticipated being on the receiving end of a lecture. Her conversation with the Tevinter mage had been pleasant enough, but upon her descent into the atrium, Solas had intercepted her, wanting to discuss what they’d witnessed in the Western Approach.

They’d only just returned from their travels, and Delani was still attempting to decompress from the strenuous journey. A heated debate with Solas wasn’t what she had in mind in terms of winding down, but the man wanted to know if she intended to help the Wardens. They agreed that the Grey Wardens had to be stopped, the disagreement arose when Delani revealed that she wanted to keep the order around.

“You care too much for tradition, da’len,” he scolded her, disappointment shining in his blue eyes. The expression on Solas’s face was ironed out and humorless, and it appeared as though his disappointment was greater with himself for thinking that she’d answer him differently.

Delani crossed her arms in front of her chest and sighed. She respected Solas a great deal, and his opinion meant a lot to her, but sometimes the man was more stubborn than a juvenile halla. “We mustn’t forget tradition, lethallin, no matter how ugly.” she stated, knowing that he would immediately disagree with her. “My mother was always very insistent that I remember that lesson.”

His eyes narrowed a touch. “There is a difference between remembrance and negligence.”

“And you think that wanting to help the Grey Wardens is the latter.” she supplied for him, setting him up for his next argument.

Solas didn’t waste anytime taking advantage of the opportunity she’d given him. “They are so mired down by tradition and duty they don’t care what means it takes in order to accomplish either.” He was getting heated now, working himself up into an argument that Delani had never wanted to be a part of, but was resigning herself to anyway.

“Just look at what they are doing, the blood sacrifices that they are making under the guise of duty.” Giving her a bewildered look, Solas wondered, “Why preserve such a corruptible force?”

Setting her jaw, Delani answered simply, “Because, at their core, their purpose is pure.”

His disappointment doubled. “Like the Templars?” he observed, reminding her of how she’d chosen them over the mages, a decision he had originally advised her against. “Like the Seekers?”

She released a deep breath through her nose and rubbed her eyes. Delani knew that Solas wasn’t the only one of her companions that thought she should just let the Wardens fall. They had no one but themselves to blame for the position that they now found themselves in, after all. She didn't owe them anything, the importance of their continuance was a subject up to debate.

Delani slowly dragged her hand down her face, trying to find the words that Solas would listen to. When she peered up at him past her brow, she started, “The world needs to change Solas and these factions along with it.” He made an agreeing noise, and she used it to spur herself forward. “I didn't become the Inquisitor to destroy and dismantle. I became Inquisitor to reform and rebuild.”

“I want to give people the chance to change for the better.” Delani said in reply to the serious look that had befallen Solas’s features. He was hearing her, but he wasn’t quite listening to her just yet. “Templars, Seekers, Grey Wardens, they have all fallen; but who hasn't? I believe that they can do better, that they can be better, and I believe that it's my obligation to provide them with the chance”

Shaking his head, Solas grumbled, “Your youth blinds you.”

“And your age jades you,” she countered. He quirked an eyebrow and she pushed herself onward. “You need to open yourself up to hope, just as I need to prepare myself for disappointment.”

She gave him a pleading look, beseeching him to listen, to actually listen. When he noticed immediately what she was asking of him, and after a deep sigh, Solas’s expression opened up. He would try to listen.

“The world is changing, Solas, and I get to help decide how. I don't know about you, but I want to live in a world where we take the time to fix the things that are broken instead of losing hope and abandoning them altogether.”

“The world is changing, lethallan,” he conceded with a curt nod, giving her a measured look. “I just hope that it's changing into the one you envision.”

That was the most that she was going to get from him, and Delani counted it as a victory. Offering the other elf a small smile, she agreed, “As do I.” before allowing him to return to the research he’d been pursuing before cornering her into a political debate.

Delani left the atrium and stepped into the main hall. She smiled politely to all of those who greeted her and tried to ignore ongoing conversations as she passed. As she approached the main doors she noticed that Varric wasn’t standing by his writing desk. He was likely with Hawke, who was likely at the tavern. It was endearing to see the dwarf with Bella, the two were inseparable, and a small part of Delani hoped that someday Varric would hold her in such high regard.

Stepping out onto the stairway, Delani paused and basked in the daylight. Streaks of white were painted across the heavens like strokes of a paintbrush. The temperature was cooler than usual, hinting that winter was on the approach. There was a constant din coming from all directions; chattering from the main hall behind her, cawing from the rookery, the sound of workers reconstructing Skyhold, and the clashing of dull weapons as the soldiers trained.

Skyhold was a living thing. The souls who lived behind its tall, strong walls gave it breath, gave it emotion, and today Skyhold was content. Delani smiled to herself and descended the stairs. It was good to have a place of their own. Haven had been sufficient for the force they’d had while occupying it, but the Inquisition would have quickly outgrown it. This ancient fortress was different. Skyhold would nurture the forces that called it home, it would always be the heart of the Inquisition.

She casually followed the sound of practice swords crashing. Delani liked to watch the soldiers train. She always found it so surprising that Cassandra and Cullen could take dozens of local farm boys, people who had never even held a sword before, and make them into soldiers. Not everyone who came to the Inquisition had a talent for swordplay, but those who did were trained by the best.

A smile inched across Delani’s lips when she spotted Cullen supervising the training exercises. Most of the time he left the task to his captain, having the responsibilities that he did gave him little time to spend training his men. But Cullen was the type of man who needed to participate in all aspects of his job, and Delani respected him for it.

Leaning on the railing, Delani perched her chin in her palm and just stared down at Cullen, admiring his back. He was taller than most humans she’d encountered and stood more than a head taller than her. His skin was pale, but had a curious golden undertone that seemed to radiate from him. Everything about Cullen was golden, his eyes, his hair, his character. He was this noble giant that made her heart flutter in her chest with a look alone.

They hadn’t really gotten a chance to speak since she’d returned from the Western Approach. Cullen had been eyeballs deep in paperwork upon her arrival and, as much as she avoided her own paperwork, it had eventually caught up to her as well. The moment that she’d finished, and found some free time, she spent it making rounds speaking to her companions.

Already she’d spoken to her friends in the tavern, and she’d managed to avoid stirring up an argument with Sera. She shot the breeze with Dorian, talked influence and power with Vivienne, and had an intellectual debate with Solas. All that was left was BlackWall, and in order to get to him, she needed to get past Cullen.

Her stomach did a pleasant flip. Their relationship was still so new, and sometimes —most of the time— Delani had to remind herself that it was real. Cullen was real, his attraction to her was real, they had really kissed on the battlements, and he really wanted to pursue a relationship with her. It had always seemed so far fetched to her, so impossible. What should a man like Cullen ever want to do with a woman like her, an elf? There were people who fetishized elves, but he wasn’t one of them. His attraction to her seemed genuine, and the thought left her grinning like a fool.

Delani bit into her lip and continued to stare at the Commander. Her father would have liked him, she decided. If the two had been given the opportunity to meet, her father would have been glad that she’d found someone like Cullen.

Cullen was kind, compassionate, patient, and understanding. He listened and he thought, and he was just as strong mentally as he was physically. It didn’t matter that he was human. All that mattered to her parents was that Delani was happy; which she was. The novelty of their romance was still strange, but Delani was the happiest she’d been in a very long while.

Smiling to herself, she pushed off of the railing and decided to go speak with Cullen. If he didn’t need a distraction himself, she was sure that his men would appreciate not having the weight of the Commander’s all seeing eyes on them for a moment. Nerves began to flutter in her belly like a flock of hummingbirds. Delani had never felt this way before in her life; smitten like a young girl with a crush. She’d been with men before, and even some women. Delani had had more than her fair share of infatuations, but none of them had left her feeling like this; like she could barely look Cullen in the eyes without blushing.

It was different than it had been before. Before she had been the one to effortlessly make blood rush into Cullen’s cheeks. Now all Delani had to do was imagine him turning his amber gaze on her and she was rendered a giggling fool. She didn’t like the role reversal, but when that smile of his twisted the corner of his mouth, she couldn’t remember why it bothered her.

She stepped up behind him, trying to suppress the involuntary giggle that threatened to spill past her smiling lips. Only partly aware that Cassandra and a few soldiers that were curiously watching, Delani tapped Cullen’s left shoulder before hurrying to stand on his right side.

The handsome male threw a quick glance over his shoulder and, when he found the space empty, he turned to search to his right. A surprised smile lifted his lips at the sight of Delani standing casually beside him as though she’d been occupying the previously empty space the whole time.

Before he could speak, Delani said, “Hello Commander,” by way of greeting. “Did you miss me?”

“Lady Lavellan,” he returned her greeting with a chuckle. The sound of it was enough to stave off her irritation of him not using her first name. “I am overjoyed that you’ve returned unharmed from your travels.”

Her eyes narrowed a touch. His tone was professional, formal, the smile on his lips was kind and honest. Cullen’s golden eyes were regarding her warmly. He was being friendly and polite, and Delani was confused. They had started something, hadn’t they? She remembered the kiss on the battlements, it wasn’t a trick of an overactive imagination. Even if she’d had to leave with Hawke and Stroud for the Western Approach shortly after, it wasn’t as though their interaction had never happened.

Yet Cullen was acting as though it hadn’t, as though their relationship hadn’t changed from professional into something romantic. Delani stared up at him, her brows furrowed, her lips slightly twisted into a small frown. What was he up to?

Without breaking his gaze, she cautiously stated, “I’m sure you’ve found ways to keep yourself occupied in my absence.”

His smile grew a bit and Cullen nodded. “There is always work to be done, Inquisitor.” Resting his hands on the pommel of his sword, he inserted, “Of that there will never be a shortage.”

Delani’s confusion grew. Had she imagined the kiss after all? Had her mind supplied the memory of Cullen confessing to having feelings for her? Her heart assured her that no, it had all actually happened; her gut agreed with her heart but was wary of the Commander’s behavior.

Taking a step toward the shemlan, Delani observed, “Then I’m sure that you wouldn’t mind a distraction.” and watched as Cullen’s golden eyes dilated a bit at her tone.

She acted without thought, nervous dread stealing all reason from her. Without warning Delani grabbed Cullen by his breastplate and tugged him downward while simultaneously standing on the tips of her toes. He made a surprised sound that was quickly muffled against her lips. The kiss was more possessive than she’d intended it to be, needy and telling of how nervous his professional behavior was making her.

She didn’t know what she’d been expecting. Delani had hoped that Cullen would return her kiss in kind, that he would envelop her in his arms and show with his mouth just how much he’d missed her. What she got instead was the opposite. Cullen grabbed Delani by the shoulders and gently —yet forcefully— pushed her from his lips.

When she looked up at him Delani found that his face was beet red with embarrassment. Cullen took a retreating leap backwards until he was a safe distance away, and rubbed the back of his neck. Chuckling in a poor attempt to hide his humiliation, Cullen looked around at the gawking soldiers before mumbling a chagrined, “Inquisitor.”

Delani also looked around at their audience. Their mouths were slackened with shock, their eyes wide with disbelief. The whole courtyard had come to a standstill at the sight of her pulling their Commander into a kiss. Her eyes then landed on Cassandra who, while also looking surprised, had an eyebrow arched in disapproval. They were all staring, and Delani realized why Cullen had maintained a professional mien, and why he’d shoved her away at the first sign of affection. He was ashamed of her.

Swallowing hard, Delani looked back at Cullen and searched his mortified features. Her heart fell into her stomach and dread flooded through her bloodstream like ice water. He fidgeted awkwardly, unable to hold her gaze for longer than a second. Looking away from her he cleared his throat again and combed his fingers through his hair.

He was surprised, he was embarrassed, he was ashamed of her and Delani had never felt more foolish in her entire life. Her mouth fell open and snapped shut again, she wanted to say something but she couldn’t remember how to speak. She could feel a heat start to spread under the surface of her skin, an embarrassment that burned hotter than the sun. Looking around at the people who were still staring at the two of them, she returned her attention to Cullen and forced herself to speak.

“I—“ she choked on her words, her throat tight with horror that she had placed them both in this situation. Delani had gotten too far ahead of herself. She’d convinced herself that Cullen was different, that he would be able to see beyond her pointed ears and lean body structure. She’d assumed that he cared enough for her character to not care at all that she wasn’t human. How could she have been so wrong? How could she have misjudged him so completely? And why did it hurt so damn much?

Her hands were shaking when she tucked her hair behind her ears. Clearing her throat, she forced her shoulders back, straightening out her spine. She cleared her throat, loosening the tight muscles, and fought back the nauseating humiliation that was rumbling in her gut. “I’m sorry, I thought—“

She shook her head, not wanting to get into it in front of their enraptured audience. “I’m sorry,” Delani said again before running past Cullen. She bolted through Skyhold, racing down the stairs to the lower courtyard and sprinting toward the stables. Delani was fleeing. She was fleeing from the horror in Cullen’s eyes, she was fleeing from the pain that horror had stirred inside of her.

She felt a sting of tears behind her eyes but she fought them back. There was no reason for her to cry. Yes that had been embarrassing, so completely and totally embarrassing, but it wasn’t the end of the world. This wasn’t the first time that she’d been deemed unworthy because she was an elf. This wasn’t even the first time that she’d been rejected by a man. It was, however, the first time that she’d been rejected by a man that she genuinely cared for.

When the tears no longer threatened to spill past her lashes, Delani felt her embarrassment evolve into anger. She was angry at Cullen for rejecting her like that. She was angry at him for leading her on and telling her that he had feelings for her when he actually didn’t. She was angry at him for allowing her to think that she had a chance with him when, in truth, he was too ashamed of being with an elf to even look her in the eyes while people were watching. Delani was plenty angry at Cullen, but she was mostly angry with herself.

How could she have been such an idiot? Why would she allow herself to be such a fool? Of course Cullen wanted nothing to do with her, at least not publicly. She was an elf! He was a human, respected, admired, highly praised and too important to the Inquisition to be seen fraternizing with the Inquisitor; an elf. She should have guessed that he wanted their romance to remain a secret. She should have known that he would never see her as anything other than a knife ear, a savage.

Delani wished that the earth would yawn open and swallow her whole. Her embarrassment was too great, how was she even still alive, how had her flesh not already melted right off of her bones. It wasn’t Cullen’s fault that he could never see her as anything more than an elf, that he would never see her as a woman. It was society’s fault, the world around them was to blame. Delani was angry at him for fooling her into believing that he was different, but she was angrier with herself for allowing herself to believe that she would ever be sufficient for a man such as him.

Skidding to a stop, Delani interrupted Blackwall and Dennett’s conversation. The two men turned to look at her, surprise and curiosity in their gazes as they regarded the strange “halla rider”. Delani grit her teeth. Marching past them, toward Cornelius’s stall, she opened the gate and glared at the two men. Her tone was hard, pointed, an underlying threat in the undertones of her voice.

“Neither of you have seen me,” she stated before closing the gate behind her.

She patted Cornelius on the nose when he stepped up to greet her. The hart searched her for treats and huffed in dissatisfaction upon discovering that she hadn’t smuggled him any. Stomping his foot down, he spent the next few minutes ignoring her as punishment, which Delani took advantage of to clean out his stall. Delani needed to keep her hands busy. She didn’t intend to show her face around Skyhold for some time. When the sun finally fell behind the horizon she’d find her way back to her chambers.

Tomorrow they would all pretend like none of this had ever happened; even if she would never be able to look Cullen in the eyes ever again.

He could still feel the fire burning under his cheeks as he watched Delani run from him. All it took was remembering the look on her face when he had pushed her away for Cullen to know that he had done something terribly wrong. His reaction to her kiss had been involuntary. She’d surprised him, pulling him into a kiss that he hadn’t anticipated. His shock had quickly taken over him and he’d pushed her away like a Maker forsaken moron.

Cullen should have embraced her, should have welcomed the softness of her lips against his, and he had wanted to, but people were watching. Soldiers were training, Cassandra was observing, there were lines of onlookers just dawdling about curiously gazing in his direction. When Delani had approached him, full of her typical mirth, he had been so excited to see her.

He had wanted to take her in his arms and hold her tightly. He’d wanted to breathe her in and taste her. Professionalism demanded that he maintain a polite air about him, no matter what his heart desired. Then Delani had thrown that professionalism to the wind and Cullen had reacted so poorly to it. He had pushed her away, the fool!

It took a special brand of idiot to push away a woman like Delani, and Cullen knew that he had just won himself the crown of idiocy. Rubbing his temple, Cullen couldn’t pull his gaze from the stairwell that she had sprinted down. How fast she’d run from him, Cullen had never seen her move so swiftly.

His stomach fell to his toes at the memory of the expression she had worn on her face. It had taken her a moment to recognize that he had shoved her away from him and kept her at arms length. It had taken a second for Delani to register that he had rejected her affection as though hers was the kiss of death. But then her green eyes met his and he witnessed her realization for himself. That was the worst part, Cullen concluded, seeing her beautiful features widen first with shock, shift to embarrassment, then tighten with horror.

He had done that, he had stolen the smile from her lips and the laugh from her eyes, and for what? Propriety? Decorum? What did any of that matter when he had hurt Delani the way that he had? She’d more than just run from the confrontation, Delani had fled; Delani who had challenged him to a sparring match, Delani who fought wild beasts, red templars, darkspawn, monsters, and demons of all shapes and sizes. She was a woman who looked danger in the eyes and grinned, and she had fled from him.

Stomach turning with disgust in himself, Cullen grit his teeth as he decided what he should do. He obviously needed to speak with Delani, to apologize for the intensity of his reaction and explain to her its origins, but he couldn’t leave his men in the middle of training. His responsibilities didn’t disappear just because he had made himself into a dunce and insulted the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

Glancing back to where Cassandra was standing, Cullen was unsurprised by the disapproval in her eyes. Her eyebrows were furrowed and there was a frown tugging at her lips. Gesturing toward the stairwell with her chin, she wordlessly instructed Cullen to go after her. When her narrowed eyes met his gaze again he could easily tell that Cassandra was feeling oddly protective of the Inquisitor. They had become fast friends, and the human woman did not approve of Cullen’s reaction to Delani’s affection. She wanted him to set things right, almost as badly as he did.

Not needing to be told twice, Cullen left his soldiers, trusting that Cassandra would manage until he returned. He descended the staircase with a pretty good idea as to where Delani had run off to. She’d been upset, distressed, and panicked; there was only one place that she would run to: the stables.

He tried to keep his pace inconspicuous, but the fact of the matter was that Cullen needed to rectify the mess that he had made of things. An apology and an explanation were in order, and they needed to be delivered as swiftly as possible. His feet carried him toward the stables, but he didn’t immediately find any sign of Delani anywhere.

Blackwall and Dennett were speaking in the barn, keeping up casual conversation until Cullen interrupted them. Blackwall was the first to acknowledge him, his expression curious but otherwise unreadable. The man standing at his side was just as hard to read, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his features flat and expressionless.

Looking around the barn, Cullen wondered, “Have either of you seen the Inquisitor?”

Both Blackwall and Dennett shared a look, a silent communication passing between them. After a second Dennett shrugged indifferently and Blackwall returned his attention to Cullen. Shaking his head, the Grey Warden informed him, “I haven’t seen her,” while simultaneously gesturing toward the stables.

Cullen rose an eyebrow and Blackwall nodded that he had it right. He had seen Delani and she was within earshot. She had probably told both men to keep her whereabouts a secret, but the two of them could probably tell by the desperation on Cullen’s face that he needed to speak with her urgently.

Nodding in gratitude, Cullen loudly replied, “I’ll just have a look around then,” before moving back toward the stables in search of the Inquisitor. Cullen stopped in front of the first stall, seeing a beautiful Fereldan mare but no Delani. But then he heard a distasted huff and his attention was pulled to the hart at the far end of the stables.

Cornelius, of course, he should have known to check in with the hart first. Delani and the disagreeable beast had a special friendship. She spent a great deal of time with him, brushing him down or just simply keeping him company. The hart would have been the first place that she would run to. Cullen just hoped that she would still be there.

The closer Cullen came to Cornelius’s stable the more irritated the hart became. He bumped his chest against the gate and huffed heavily in warning. Cullen mostly ignored the stag, trusting that the gate would hold against the enormous creature. When he was standing in front of the stable, he spotted Delani’s auburn hair and felt his heart twinge at the sight of her duck into hiding a moment too late.

“Delani,” Cullen sighed, feeling like a fumbling idiot. He knew that he needed to apologize for his behavior, he just didn’t know how to go about giving voice to the words. If he opened his mouth it would be only to reinsert his foot into the cavern. Even so, the words needed to be said, she needed to know how sorry he was for reacting the way he had.

“May I speak with you?”

She didn’t emerge from the stall, but she did reply from her hiding space. “Now is not really a good time, Cullen. I’m—“ she paused, searching for a viable excuse before continuing with a lame, “in the middle of something.”

Taking a step toward the stall, Cullen stopped short when Cornelius took a threatening step forward. Releasing a defeated breath, Cullen strode back to the wall facing the hart’s stable and leaned his back against it. Folding his arms over his bust, he admitted, “I wanted to apologize to you. The way I reacted—”

“There’s no need,” she cut him off, finally standing from behind the gate. Delani busied her hands and started to clean out Cornelius’s stall, a task that would have been better done without the stag occupying the space. But he was the only thing dividing Cullen and Delani and Cullen knew that Delani wasn’t going to part with the beast easily.

Without turning to look at him, Delani kept her attention on her task as she spoke. “I get it.”

Surprised, Cullen’s brows shot toward his hairline. A sense of relief washed over him and he let out a long, grateful breath. Just to be sure, he asked, “You do?”

“Yes,” she answered with a shrug. Delani did glance at him then, her green eyes narrow with pain and outrage, and Cullen knew that she didn’t really understand at all. Her voice was a low and dangerous growl when she supplied, “You’re embarrassed of me.”

It took several hard blinks for Cullen to fully process what she’d just said. She thought that he was embarrassed of her? How was that even possible? Delani was the most beautiful, most caring, most compassionate, and wonderful person he knew. She was strong, stubborn, determined, kindhearted, and gentle when she wanted to be. Her smile was heartbreaking, her laugh was melodic, her amusement was always infectious, and the vivacious shine in her eyes was the kind of enchanting beauty that inspired songs.

There wasn’t a single thing about her that would be the cause of embarrassment. Yes, that kiss had been unexpected, and he had reacted poorly to it, but not out of embarrassment. And especially not out of embarrassment of her. Delani was the kind of woman that a man waited his whole life to meet, and sometimes never did. He was enchanted, enamored, infatuated; Cullen was a great many things in regards to Delani, but he was never embarrassed. She had to know that, and the fact that she didn’t was completely flabbergasting to him.

“W-what?” Cullen stammered, caught utterly by surprise by her casual observation. It was more than the fact that she could say those words in the first place, but also that she could say them with such conviction. “You think that I’m embarrassed of you?”

She looked at him then, piercing him with her narrowed eyes. Lips sneering with distaste, she insisted, “Please, Cullen, don’t. I understand, truly, I do.” Returning her focus to cleaning Cornelius’s stall, she finished, “I was just expecting you to be different. It was foolish, and I’m sorry.”

She was sorry? What in the world did she have to be sorry for? And what did she mean by she thought that he was different? Different from whom? Cullen was so terribly confused. They were having two different conversations at once and neither knew what the other was talking about. It was disorienting, and Cullen didn’t like the guess work. He wanted clarification, and the only way to get it was to investigate her meaning.

“I’m not embarrassed of you, Delani,” he insisted, pushing himself off of the wall and approaching the stall again. This time he completely ignored Cornelius when the stag huffed at him. Cullen got as close as he could while still being out of the mount’s reach, and tried to read Delani’s body language as he spoke. “I could never be embarrassed of you. Maker’s breath, what is there to even be embarrassed about?”

She stopped whatever she was doing to face him head on. Her hands were on her hips, her eyes sharpened to knives. “Oh, I don’t know,” she stated, her tone venomous, biting. “Perhaps the fact that I am an elf?”

Cullen’s jaw fell with surprise. Was that was she thought this was about? She thought that he had pushed her away because he didn’t want it to be known that he was in a relationship with an elf? That was ludicrous. What did Cullen care for the shape of her ears?

“So what?” he returned, honestly confused as to why this was even an issue between them.

Cullen tried to think back to all of their interactions. Had there ever been a time that he had treated her differently because she was an elf? He couldn’t remember such an interaction. Yes, her elven features made her different, but those differences were beautiful and not the slightest bit embarrassing. If anything Cullen was proud to be with her; he was the proudest he had ever been about anything he had ever done.

“So,” she said, irritated that he would dare to challenge her. “You are embarrassed to be seen with a knife ear, with a savage.”

He took another step closer to the stable’s door and stood just short of Cornelius’s snapping teeth. Cullen held Delani’s angry gaze, hoping to the Maker that she would be able to see the sincerity in his eyes and hear the honesty of his words. “Delani,” he started, feeling his desperation start to leak into his tone. “You are the most wonderful woman I know.”

Her eyes narrowed and he continued, hoping that he would be able to convince her of the truth. “You are beautiful beyond description, you are courageous, relentless, thoughtful, considerate, intelligent, and resourceful. You do not hesitate to act when action is necessary. You adapt to every obstacle that life throws at you, and you stare unflinchingly into the darkness that threatens to consume our world whole.”

Cullen hoped that she would listen to him, that she could hear that his words were true and spoken from his heart. “You are not a savage, you are our salvation, and my only embarrassment is that it has taken this terrible misunderstanding for me to confess all of this to you.”

“I—“ she stammered, her eyes had softened with his admission, her posture was less defensive. Delani fumbled with the hilt of the carving knife on her belt as she thought. Shaking her head, she tried again, “Then why did you react the way you did when I kissed you?”

“Because I am an idiot,” Cullen answered with a self-deprecating chuckle. Rubbing the back of his neck, he admitted, “You surprised me and I reacted without thought or consideration. And for that I am incredibly sorry.”

When it was apparent that Delani still didn’t fully understand the origins of his behavior, Cullen sighed. He would have to give voice to his stupidity. Truthfully he didn’t care, all that mattered was clearing the air between them. “Andraste preserve me, I have made a mess of this, haven’t I?”

Dragging a hand down his face, Cullen explained, “You wouldn’t believe how quickly gossip spreads through the barracks. While I’m not embarrassed about being with you, I would prefer that our private affairs remain just that.”

“I made you uncomfortable,” Delani said, the realization slipping past her lips with an exhale. She stepped up to the stable’s door and gave Cullen an apologetic look. “Creators, Cullen, I’m sorry. If I had known I would have never—“

He offered her a reassuring smile, “I like to keep my private and professional lives separate from one another, but that is no excuse for pushing you away the way that I did.”

Delani patted Cornelius on the side, coaxing the beast to back down, before exiting from the stable. She closed the gate behind her and gave Cullen a shy look. Tucking her lovely auburn hair behind an ear, she met and held his gaze. There was a rosiness to her cheeks and it took a moment for Cullen to realize that Delani was blushing. His initial shock was eclipsed by the timidness of her voice when she next spoke.

“I have never been with a human before,” she admitted, appearing as though the admission was an embarrassing one. “I don’t know how to act around you. There is no ‘separation’ between professional and private in the clan.”

Nervously wringing her hands, Delani chewed on her lip and struggled to hold his gaze. Carefully, she wondered, “Do you wish for me not to touch you?”

Shaking his head, Cullen couldn’t help the chuckle that rumbled out of him. She looked so unbearably cute when she bit her lip like that. Who was this timorous woman that struggled to hold his gaze, and why did he find her sheepishness so damn endearing? He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his arms. There was always a different side of Delani that he was learning, and this new timid side was just so adorable he couldn’t wipe the smile from his lips even if he tried.

He brushed her bangs from her face and stared down at her gorgeous features, “Nothing would wound me more than that.” Tilting her chin up, Cullen leaned his face down a bit and whispered, “All I ask for is a little more discretion next time.”

A warm smile unearthed on her plush lips, and Delani quirked a teasing eyebrow. His smile grew at the sight of the laughter returning to her eyes. There she was, the sassy creature that had initially grabbed his attention. “What,” she prompted, “You mean no more kissing you in the courtyard?”

Cullen hummed, remembering how she’d pulled his lips down to hers and claimed his mouth as her own. Truly being kissed by her was so intoxicating that the locale hardly mattered. “What’s so wrong with the stables?”

“Nothing at all,” Delani purred before pulling him the rest of the way down to her lips.

There was a smile on Cullen’s lips when they met hers. Warmth bloomed in his chest, fanning out like petals reaching out for the light that burned inside of Delani. He buried his fingers in her hair and couldn’t help the contented groan that rumbled deep in his chest. Inhaling her scent, he admired the mind numbing smell of wildflowers. She always smelled so damn good, be it freshly after a bath or the moment she returned from her journeys, and now he would get to smell her whenever he wished. He was a lucky bastard.

Cullen pulled her tighter against his chest. At the feeling of her tongue snaking across his lips, he welcomed her into his mouth. A surprised moan resounded from her and Cullen smiled at the sound of it. He had never tasted anything as sweet as Delani. His fingers pressed into the small of her back, pulling her more tightly against him.

For a moment Cullen forgot where he was. He didn’t care that Blackwall and Dennett were in the barn, that they could walk in on them at any given moment. All Cullen cared about was the feeling of Delani against him, her body molded to his chest, her warmth seeping through his cloak and waking something that had been dormant inside of him for so long.

Moving his lips from hers, to the line of her jaw, Cullen left a trail of kisses all the way to her neck. The moment he felt her pulse against his mouth, he felt an untamable urge to taste the beat of her heart. His lips parted and his tongue lapped at the warm skin of her neck. He felt Delani shudder against him, a moan escaping her, and it only served to spur him further.

“Fenedhis, ar nuvenin’ma,” Delani groaned in a breathy exhale. Her fingers were fisted around the hair at the nape of his neck, desperately tugging at him, undecided if she wanted to pull him away or pin him to her more tightly. The beautiful and foreign words were like fire in a field of dry grass, and suddenly Cullen was on fire all over.

A low rumble vibrated from him. Cullen didn’t know what had possessed him. Their relationship was too new for this kind of behavior. He needed to regain control of his body, but the sound of Delani’s panting a mewing made self-control impossible. He could think of nothing else. Her heat, her taste, the sounds she made, they abducted his sense of propriety from him and left him feeling like a mindless thrall whose sole purpose was to explore this gorgeous creature completely.

A surprised squeak sounded from Delani when Cullen crowded her over to the wall and pinned her against it, though the laugh that followed soon after was approving. Cullen’s hands were on her waist, her back, slowly traveling toward her rear when the sound of someone clearing their throat returned him to the present.

Cullen pulled his face from the curve of her neck and looked up to find Dennett standing at the stable’s entrance with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Cullen immediately felt his face flush, but was surprised with himself when he didn’t jump away from Delani as though she were made of acid. Taking a respectful step back, Cullen’s hand immediately began to rub the back of his neck and embarrassment made it impossible to speak without stammering.

“D-Dennett,” Cullen cleared his throat, throwing a sideways glance to Delani who was staring up at him with a dreamy look in her eyes and a playful smile on her lips. “I did not hear you approach.”

The horse master was unamused. Sternly, the man observed, “Clearly.” Before Cullen could mumble some half thought explanation, Dennett shooed them both with a wave of his hands. “Off with the both of you, before you traumatize the mounts.”

Giggling, Delani grabbed Cullen by the hand and pulled him from the stables. As they walked past the stone faced human, she stated, “My apologize, Dennett,” and led Cullen out onto the lower courtyard.

As soon as they were out of the stables Delani tried to release her hold on Cullen’s hand, but he held on tighter. She was trying to respect his wishes, he knew. He had asked for discretion and she was attempting to submit to his desires, but Cullen couldn’t allow it. She’d thought that he was embarrassed of being with her. Delani had thought that he was ashamed to be discovered having a romantic relationship with an elf. She couldn’t be more wrong.

They were standing in the middle of the courtyard, hand in hand, dozens of eyes upon them, and Cullen tugged Delani back into his arms. She bumped into his chest with a surprised sound, and Cullen smiled down at her. She was beautiful, Maker, she was so beautiful.

Craning his face down toward hers, Cullen whispered, “I am not embarrassed of you,” before softly claiming her mouth with his own. Delani grabbed him by the front of his cloak and pressed her lips more fiercely against his. The kiss was a short one, but it left him breathless all the same.

He brushed her silky hair away from her face and stared down at her for a moment. Delani’s eyes were still shut from the kiss, and they fluttered open, sea green eyes staring at him with longing. There was a content smile on her lips as she tightened her fists on the collar of his cloak.

A delighted laugh rang from her, and Delani bit into her lip as she stared up at him. Releasing her plush bottom lip from between her teeth, she stated, “As much as I’ve enjoyed the result of our little misunderstanding, I think that we need to work on our communication skills.”

He returned her smile with a lopsided one of his own. Nodding, he agreed, “You may have a point, my lady.” She narrowed her eyes and Cullen couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him before he corrected himself, “Delani.”

At the sound of her name on his lips, her smile grew. She released her hold on his cloak and took a half step backwards, giving him some space, while still keeping herself close to him. Her big green eyes stared up at him and Cullen felt as though he could conquer the world. Did she even know what she did to him when she looked at him like that?

“I want to know you, vhenan’ara,” she admitted with a tender smile.

The sound of his pet name made his heart soar. Cullen tried to dial down the smile on his lips but found the mere attempt impossible. Tracing the arch of her cheekbone, and admiring the branch-like vassilian that moved along the curve of the bone, he confessed, “I want to know you too.”

“Then let us not make it any more difficult than it has to be,” she said, her eyes alight with life and the laughter within them infectious. “Be open and honest with me, and I will do the same for you.”

Nodding, Cullen agreed to her terms and whispered, “You are incredible, do you know that?”

“I could stand to be reminded more often,” Delani replied with a laugh.

Cullen grinned. He would gladly remind her every day for as long as she would have him. What had he ever done to be deserving of a woman like her? Cullen would never know if he lived for a thousand years.

Chapter Text

The familiar sounds of war roared throughout the night. Firing trebuchets hurled balls of fire into the heavens until they came crashing down on Adamant's walls. Cries arose from the soldiers’ throats, screams of death and bellows of determination filling the air with the songs of combat. Cullen had known battle before, had trained for it, had prepared for it. First in the Tower, then at the Gallows, and now here; with the Inquisition, and this time he was commanding its course.

How many men had he lost already? The Grey Wardens were desperate, if that hadn’t been obvious from the beginning, and they were making the mistakes because of that desperation. Cullen was losing soldiers, but not as many as he had anticipated. It appeared that at least some of the rigorous training had stuck with his men, and lives were being spared because of it.

Cullen gazed over the battlefield. He called for his men to fix their formation before they lost any more soldiers to stray arrows or thrown stones. Glancing up at Adamant's walls, he allowed a breath to flow through him. Delani and her team were weaving through Grey Wardens and demons, clearing the walls so that Cullen’s men could get a foothold. As soon as those walls were clear the fortress was as good as theirs. All that there would be left to contend with was Warden-Commander Clarel and, if he knew Delani half as well as he thought he did, by the time the rest of the Inquisition’s forces joined her the battle would be all but won.

Refocusing on the battle, Cullen forced back the wariness and the dread that were budding inside of him. They were in a middle of a battle and Delani was at its point. She was running face first into danger, again, and he couldn’t be there to protect her. He supposed that he should be accustomed to this feeling by now, but the fact of the matter was that Cullen doubted that he would ever get used to sending her off into danger.

He shoved all other thoughts to the back of his mind. He had to remain focused on the fight. His men were looking to him for direction. Their lives depended on him keeping his mind in the here and now, and here and now was a fight for their lives against Grey Wardens.

Cullen remembered the first time he ever met a Grey Warden. It had been after the Circle had fallen to demons and blood mages. He had already endured days, weeks, of… so much. Andraste had preserved him, kept him, protected him from succumbing to the same fate his brothers had fallen prey to. And then one day a woman had appeared and he’d thought it to be another vision.

His first Grey Warden had also happened to be his first encounter with a Dalish elf. Cullen had not been in his right mind during the meeting. Pain, desperation, and all consuming terror had abducted all reason from him. Already so much death had occurred, and he had demanded more. She had come to save the Circle and he’d pleaded with her to destroy it. That was the first time that Cullen had encountered Dalish determination, and stubbornness, and after meeting Delani he knew for certain that they were traits easily found in the Dalish people.

The Hero of Ferelden had done what she did best and saved the Circle, himself included. She’d come to him after the fighting had finally met its end, when Uldred had been put down like the dog he was, and she’d tried to make sure that Cullen was alright. Unfortunately the trauma that Cullen had suffered had to run its course before he could begin to even feign normalcy. She had been careful not to touch him, but she had held his gaze and assured him that he was going to be alright. She had shown him kindness, and it was yet another attribute that Cullen was now associating with the Dalish people.

“Commander,” one of his lieutenants called for his attention. Staring up at where Cullen was surveying the battlefield, the man shouted, “The Wardens are regrouping at the north gate!”

It was just as planned. The Wardens’ desperation was costing them dearly. At this rate it wouldn’t be much longer now. Nodding his satisfaction with the report, Cullen shouted back, “Good. Get our archers on those walls. I want the Wardens surrounded, give them no quarter.”

The lieutenant saluted in understanding before doing what he had been told. Cullen sucked in a deep and calming breath. The tides of war were turning in their favor, but they hadn’t won yet. One wrong move now could be costly.

The fight continued at a steady pace. The Inquisition pushed forward until most of their forces were inside of the fortress. Just when it appeared as though the battle was nearing its end, a deafening roar shook through the heavens like rolling thunder. Cullen’s stomach fell with the sound, his heart lurching into his throat. Swallowing hard, he turned his head in the direction of flapping wings and cursed at the sight of Corypheus’s arch demon flying toward Adamant.

Maker turn his gaze on us all. Cullen stared in wide eyed horror as the dragon swooped down on the fortress. A red energy poured from between its maw, not fire but something a thousand times worse. The electrical red fluid fell over the heads of soldiers, their cries echoing out through the night, louder than ever.

Swallowing hard, Cullen watched helplessly as he saw figures that looked like Delani and her team rushing over the ramparts after Warden-Commander Clarel. There was a slight commotion at the edge of the dead-drop, before Clarel was taken into the arch demon’s mouth, and she was tossed about like a rag doll.

His heart plummeted into his gut as the monstrous beast began to inch toward Delani and her team. Dread flowed through him like rivers of ice water. All he could do was sit and watch as the arch demon crept nearer and nearer to Delani until a magical burst of light blasted through the night, the explosion deafening and blinding him for a moment before his senses refocused.

Cullen ignored the ringing in his ears as he watched the broken ramparts of Adamant Fortress begin to crumble. First it was only a few stones, and then it was all of them. The arch demon fell, clawing at the air as it attempted to regain control of its wings. His teeth ached as he clenched them, his heart pounding deafeningly in his ears as Cullen prayed that Delani made it off of those ramparts in time.

She and her team were faint specs on the walls, but even at this distance he could see that they would not make it. The stones were falling faster than their legs could carry them. After a second the whole structure gave way and succumbed to gravity. Stones fell, bodies fell, his friends, the Inquisitor, Delani.

“No!” Cullen screamed into the night. His stomach rolled, threatening to expel all of its contents. Uncontrollable, unbearable, petrifying fear paralyzed him as he watched Delani plummet to what would surely be her death. He had just gotten her as his own, had just learned what it would be like to be with a woman he was so undeserving of, and the Maker was stealing her from him.

Just as his heart was about to shatter to a million pieces a flash of green light tore through the air. The space where stone and structure had just been toppling to the ground was replaced by a green rip in the Veil. Debris fell from this dimension into the next, Delani and the others falling along with it. As soon as they were through the gaping hole in the sky, the tear resealed and they were gone.

Cullen wrangled with this overwhelming sense of loss. Delani had opened that tear in the Fade. She hadn’t fallen to her death. There was a chance that she was still alive, that he would see her at the end of this battle. He needed to hold out faith. Delani had returned to him after Haven. She would find her way back to his arms again.

Maker, he pleaded to a deity that had always remained silent when he needed Him most. Please bring her back to me.

Fenedhis, Delani swore. It was always one thing after the other. Just once she wanted to go into a fight and not end up in the Beyond. First it was when recruiting the assistance of the Templars, and now again after being attacked by an arch demon. Yes, she’d been the one to bring them all here this time around, but it hadn’t been intentional.

That fall was going to end all of their lives. Delani would have splattered against dirt and stone like an egg knocked from its nest. She couldn’t afford to die, not when she had so much to live for, not when her clan’s continual survival depended on her, not when her relationship with Cullen was still so new. Death was not an option, she must have known that on a subatomic level because her tearing open the Veil hadn’t been a feat of conscious decision.

One second she had been falling, dreading the fate that awaited her on the sharp rocks below, and then the next moment she was surrounded by green light. They were standing physically in the Beyond, trespassing in a realm that had been tainted more than a millennia before their arrival. It wasn’t supposed to be possible, and yet here they stood.

Delani ignored Dorian and Solas as they chattered in background of her thoughts. The two men were completely enthralled by their surroundings. Ever the scholar, Dorian was concerning himself with the science of it all. He wanted to understand what had happened to them, and this new realm to which they didn’t belong. And Solas appeared to just be happy to be standing in this impossible place. They went back and forth discussing their surroundings while the rest of the group trudged quietly along behind Delani.

As much as she enjoyed listening to Solas’s tales about the Beyond, participating in her own had not been on Delani’s agenda for the day. She had to agree with Bull on this one, the Beyond was creepy and eerie, and the sooner they escaped the better for all of them.

Her shoulder ached from where her body had collided with a rather large piece of rubble, right before she’d torn open the Veil and transported them into the Beyond. The collision had caused her to dislocate her shoulder and, as soon as they realized where they were, Delani had asked Bull to help her set it back into place. It was far from her only ache, but it was the most prominent one. Fighting off waves of demons was not helping with the pain.

Divine Justinia, or the spirit, whatever she was had already helped Delani regain a majority of her memories. All that was left were a few remaining obstacles and then facing the fear demon himself. The thought filled her with dread. Delani had this gut deep feeling of foreboding. She’d felt it the moment she’d ripped open the Veil. This would not end well.

Focus, she commanded herself, straightening her spine and rolling her shoulders. They were almost out of there. Once the fear demon was dealt with they could step through the tear and back into their own reality. It would take weeks for her to scrub her mind clean of everything they'd seen here but, Creators, she was going to try.

They walked for a little while until something caught Delani’s attention in the distance. There was a fence on the far end of the valley they were trudging through. Behind it were what appeared to be tomb stones. Curious, Delani went to go explore the misplaced graveyard.

“Did you find something, Boss?” asked Bull, dread in his voice. “It’s not more demons, is it? I fucking hate demons.”

She ignored him, maintaining the cool exterior she’d summoned upon dropping herself and the others into the Beyond. Survival and escape were the only things on her mind. Keeping up distracting conversation was not how she was going to achieve those things, so she didn’t even bother. Besides, Bella was spewing out enough nervous, sarcastic nonsense for the whole lot of them. If any of them found Delani’s stoic behavior disconcerting, no one had said anything about it thus far.

Stepping past the fence, Delani confirmed that the area was in fact a grave yard. Intrigued, she set out read the names inscribed on the tomb stones. Her stomach fell as she recognized the name to whom the grave belonged.

Blackwall

Himself

She moved to the next, her heart rate picking up.

Cole

Despair

Solas

Dying Alone

Dread spread through her like the cool burn of frost bite. These were not graves, they were her companions' greatest fears. She quickly scanned over each of them, trying not to dwell on what she read. It wasn’t her right to know what terrified her friends. If they wanted her to have access to that information they would have shared it with her themselves. It wasn’t their fears that she was after anyway, it was her own.

There was a tall tomb in the back of the graveyard. It was a marvelous thing, too beautifully crafted for its terrible purpose. Barren tree branches were carved into the polished stone. The design was artful, breathtaking, mesmerizing. It was a distraction from the words beautifully etched into the stone. Delani read it, her heart sinking into her stomach as she felt the truth of the text consume her very soul.

Delani Lavellan

Impotence

Iron Bull, who was looming behind her, reading the text over her shoulder, let out a low and rumbling laugh. “What’s the matter, Boss?” His tone was mocking, desperately making light of a situation they were all finding unbearably uncomfortable. Nudging her shoulder a massive hand, he joked, “Can’t get it up for the Commander?”

She set her jaw and shrugged his hand off of her shoulder. Taking a deep breath to steady the roll of her stomach, Delani turned sharply on her heel and fled from the graveyard. No, Delani wasn’t afraid of an inability to ‘get it up’. Her fear was simply inability. That was it. Inability to take action, inability to save her people. It was being helpless, powerless, and useless, not being enough to do what had to be done. It was a legitimate fear, and she did not need to be mocked over the phrasing.

Swallowing back the nausea that had come with reading her tombstone, Delani led the group with renewed purpose. They needed to leave this realm of nightmares and demons. They needed to return to reality, to where the world made sense. Impotence, inadequacy, dearth, she couldn’t afford any of these traits. Her team, her people, the Inquisition, they were all depending on her to be more than enough. They needed her to be stronger than her fears. Delani hoped that she didn’t disappoint them the same way she had her father.

Forgive me, Papae, she thought, remembering the warm chestnut color of her fathers eyes. If I had been more you would still be with me.

A cool breeze swept through the training ground, gently caressing her sweat covered skin. Delani and Iron Bull were of like mind when it came to cleansing their thoughts of the memory of everything that had happened in the Beyond. Where Bull wanted to be beaten to a pulp by a rod in order to prove to himself that he was stronger than his fears, Delani needed to fatigue every muscle in her body with a strenuous workout.

“Fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four,” Iron Bull counted from above her, keeping track of how many pushups she’d done.

Already her arms were starting to shake under the strain. She’d done more than a hundred pull-ups, and thrown countless punches at Iron Bull’s calloused palms. The energy left in her shoulders and arms was depleting. Delani was wringing every last drop of energy from her muscles like water from a rag.

It didn’t matter that if she kept it up she was likely to collapse. That was the goal, after all. She wanted to push herself so far over the edge of exhaustion that she didn't even have the energy to remember. She wanted to forget the Beyond, she wanted to forget her tombstone, she wanted to forget the horror that had grown at having her greatest fear being given a name. There was power in names, and now that her fear had one, she needed to shake off the power that it had over her.

Bull continued to count, “Sixty, sixty-one,” his tone grew harsh when he noticed her shaking arms slowing her progress. “Come on, Boss. Sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty…four. Only thirty-six more, Boss, then we’re done.”

Only thirty-six more until they were done with her upper body. She still had her core and her legs to workout. Delani wanted to push herself so hard that the simple task of getting herself out of bed was taxing. She wanted to feel the familiar ache in all of her muscles. She wanted her body to hate her just as much as she had hated the Beyond. It was the only way she knew how to loosen the memory’s hold over her.

The faint sounds of footsteps registered in the back of her mind, but Delani quickly dismissed them. Skyhold was busy today. Their victory at Adamant Fortress had greatly bolstered morale. Soldiers, runners, barmaids, people in general had been walking excitedly around Skyhold all day. They would offer her and Iron Bull congratulations on their victory as they passed. She assumed that the approaching footsteps belonged to someone else wanting to give them praise.

“Hey, Commander,” Iron Bull said, lifting her attention from her workout.

She glanced past her brow to find Cullen stepping up to stand beside Bull. His amber gaze was on her, curious and admiring as he watched her continue to push herself through her exercises. Delani returned her focus to the ground beneath her, to the smell of the dirt, to the feel of the stones digging into her palms. She furiously ignored the blood rushing to her cheeks at the sight of his eyes appreciating her muscle structure.

Delani had to complete her workout before she allowed herself to acknowledge Cullen, or the world around her for that matter. Her memories, her fears, Adamant and the Beyond had shaken Delani, and this was the only way she knew how to regain control of her mind. If she allowed herself to be distracted by Cullen before her mental scrubbing was complete, it would haunt her for days to come.

“Iron Bull,” Cullen’s beautiful voice returned Bull’s greeting. He moved his attention to Delani and she could hear the disapproval in his voice when he inquired, “How is your shoulder, Inquisitor?”

Knowing that he was going to try and pull her from her workout before she was finished, Delani grunted, “Fine.” She lowered herself to the ground before she pushed herself up again, trying desperately to stop her arms from shaking from fatigue.

The sound of his disapproval rang louder in his tone when he challenged her, “Really?” She nodded once, and he reminded her, “Because I remember that a little over an hour ago our healers instructed you not to overwork your shoulder.”

She felt Iron Bull’s eyes narrow on her. “You told me that they gave you a clean bill of health, Boss.” His concern was obvious in his voice, as well as his distaste in being lied to.

Sighing, Delani set her knees on the ground and stared up at the two men glaring down at her. Yes, she’d lied to the Iron Bull and, yes, the healers had advised her against doing the very thing that she’d just been doing. She was wrong and she knew it, but neither man understood that she needed this. Neither of them knew what terrible things had stirred up inside of her while in the Beyond. Neither of them could understand that this was the only way that she could move on from those thoughts of inadequacy.

“Aside from my shoulder I did get a clean bill of health,” she said to Bull before offering him an apologetic smile. When he frowned at her Delani pushed herself up onto her feet and gave the qunari a nettled look. Raising an eyebrow at him, she stated, “I was just beating you with a pole not an hour ago. I don’t think that you’re in the best position to be making judgments.”

“I’m not leading the Inquisition,” he rebutted, crossing his thick arms in front of his wide chest.

“You’re right,” she returned, her tone biting. Jabbing a finger into her chest she spat, “I am, and I need this.”

The expression on Cullen’s handsome features softened. Her tone had revealed more than she’d intended it to. Cullen could tell that something was wrong with her, that she wasn’t exercising for the sake of a good workout. She could tell by the concern creasing his features that he understood that she needed this, but she could also tell that he wasn’t going to permit her to continue to overwork herself.

Straightening his spine, Cullen perched his hands on the pommel of his blade and raised his chin as he regarded Delani. He was putting on his ‘Commander face’ and Delani felt a warmth radiate from her core at the sight of it. Creators curse him, he looked irresistible when he looked at her like that.

Addressing her as though he would a recruit, he corrected her earlier statement. “What you need is a break.”

“Cullen, no—“ she tried to argue with him, to reason with him, to make him understand why she needed to remain exactly where she was and finish what she had started, but he interrupted her before she could.

He took a step toward her, his hand outstretched in offering. Delani looked from his open palm to his eyes and saw a tender concern whirling in those beautiful golden depths. “Please, Inquisitor,” his tone was low, gentle, as though he were trying not to spook a cornered animal. A small smile curled the corner of his mouth and he assured her, “It will take only but a moment.”

How was she supposed to resist that face? Creators, the man knew how to wield those lips better than any weapon. A sigh expelled from Delani before she placed her fingers in his hand. She allowed herself to be pulled toward him, and accepted defeat the moment the smell of him filled her nose.

Cullen looked to Iron Bull and gave the qunari a departing bow of his head. “Until next time, Bull,” he stated before collecting Delani’s tunic from the practice dummy she had hung it on.

Iron Bull muttered a farewell before turning toward the tavern. When Cullen released her hand from his and walked steadily beside her, Delani gave him a sidelong glance and asked, “Where are you taking me, Commander?”

A plotting smirk hinted at the edges of his mouth. Cullen handed her her tunic and remained quiet as she pulled it over her shoulders and began to fasten the knots that secured it in the front. When she was halfway done with her task, he found his voice and said, “It’s a surprise.”

She huffed in distaste. Delani didn’t particularly like surprises, but she liked Cullen and she liked his company, so she would endure. She finished with the last knot and pulled her hair out from the ponytail she had secured it in. The auburn strands fell around her face and well past her shoulders, some strands were clumped with sweat. Combing her fingers through her hair, Delani fixed her outward appearance as best she could and she followed Cullen up the steps that would lead them into the main hall.

Once they were atop the staircase Delani allowed herself to wonder where he was taking her. She half expected him to take her through the rotunda and toward his office, feeling like he would be drawn to the familiarity of his living quarters. To her surprise, Cullen nodded in greeting to Varric, who smirked knowingly in reply, before leading Delani into the garden.

There were fewer people in the garden than usual, but it wasn’t necessarily strange. The Inquisition had just made great strides in their fight against Corypheus. They’d just had their first real victory. Skyhold was celebrating, and celebrating was better done in taverns than in gardens.

Glad that there were so few eyes to watch them cross the garden, Delani laced her fingers through Cullen’s and smiled at him when he looked down at their intertwined fingers with surprise in his eyes. He didn’t shake his hand free or look displeased by the contact, instead a contented smile surfaced on his gorgeous lips and Delani felt a bone deep desire to kiss that intoxicating scar that ran along the corner of his mouth.

“Are we going to play another game of chess, vhenan’ara?” she asked, her tone teasing.

His smile grew and he shook his head. “Not today,” he answered before observing, “though it might do you some good to temper out your victory with a little defeat.”

His amber gaze met and held her sea green eyes. His tone turned teasing as well when he added, “It might help to keep you humble.”

A laugh sounded from Delani and she placed her fingers in front of her mouth to fight back her amusement. Unable to help the grin that expanded over her lips, she stated, “I am a great many things, Commander, but I do not believe that humble is one of them.”

The smile that curled the corners of his mouth was disagreeing. Cullen pulled up their intertwined hands and stared at the glowing mark that ran jaggedly across her open palm. Cullen’s smile faded a bit, as he feathered his thumb over the green glowing scar. Quickly meeting her gaze, he whispered, “You are the most humble person I know,” before bringing her open palm to his lips and brushing a chaste kiss against the inside of her hand.

Heat immediately started to unfurl its phoenix like wings under her skin. Blood rushed into her cheeks and Delani’s eyes fluttered. Her heart skipped along the bones of her ribcage, the beat erratic, jovial. She stared up at him, her mouth slightly open as she watched his puckered lips press into the curve of her hand. Coherent thought eluded her and, blinking hard, Delani had to remind herself to breathe.

Snapping her mouth shut, Delani swallowed hard and tried to refocus her mind on their conversation and not the feel of his stubble against her hand. The kiss had been quick, a warm peck, but it had affected her straight down to her core. When he met her gaze again it was obvious that he was oblivious to the effect he had just had on her. Good, Delani thought. She didn’t understand it herself.

He returned their interwoven fingers to their sides and continued to lead her deeper into the garden. There was a bend at the end of the garden that led to a secluded little area, lined by trees, bushes covered with blooming flowers, and stones atheistically set up in the most lovely, calming pattern. The little area was free from prying eyes, it was shaded by the full tree branches, and there was the pleasant perfume of flowers in full bloom in the air. But what caught Delani’s attention was the blanket stretched out over the center of the area. There was a bottle of wine and a basket filled with fruits and cheeses just waiting in invitation. It took Delani a moment to realize that the invitation was for her.

Her attention jolted back to Cullen and she breathlessly wondered, “Is this for me?”

The smirk on his lips was delicious. “Well,” he started, mirth in his eyes and a joke in his voice, “I intended it to be for us. That is, if you don’t mind sharing.”

She couldn’t help her grin even if she tried. “I don’t mind at all,” she replied, allowing him to tug her toward the blanket.

"I suppose I should count myself lucky that you're feeling so generous."

She laughed before nodding that he had it right. "Enjoy it while it lasts, vhenan'ara."

Easing herself down onto the cloth, Delani’s smile persisted as Cullen sat down beside her, one of his long legs folded in front of him while he perched an elbow on his other knee. Cullen opened the bottle of wine and poured the maroon liquid into a glass. He handed the glass to her, and Delani couldn’t help the blush that burned her cheeks when her fingers brushed against his as she accepted the glass.

She took a sip, hoping that the alcohol would help settle her nerves. Since when had Cullen become the one in their relationship to cause her to blush? It would have been an infuriating development if it wasn’t also an endearing one. Cullen was charming, he was seductive, he was alluring and he didn’t even know it. He was simply irresistible, and it came with little to no effort at all.

When nearly half of her glass was poured down her throat, Delani reminded herself to slow down. She glanced at Cullen only to find his gaze already on her, and she had to look away again to hide how his attention affected her. Clearing her throat, she tucked her bangs behind her ear, and said, “This is…” she searched for the right word, but there were too many to describe his gesture: sweet, endearing, lovely, perfect. Delani settled on, “Surprising.”

Picking a grape from the fruit basket and popping it into her mouth, Delani couldn’t help it when she wondered, “May I ask why?”

The look Cullen gave her was playfully scolding. “Must I have a reason to treat you to a pleasant reprieve?” When she raised a challenging eyebrow a soft chuckle rumbled out of him and Cullen nodded that she might have been a little bit right. He smiled at her for a second before his thoughts slowly wiped the smile from his lips.

After a moment the shemlan was regarding her with concern in his lovely golden eyes. His features were serious, his face crinkled with echoes of worry as he worked his jaw. Raising his hand to her cheek, Cullen ran his thumb across the curve of her cheekbone and asked, “Would you think less of me if I told you that I feared for you at Adamant?”

She moved her wine glass from one hand to the other before raising her hand to hold his against her cheek. Thumbing over his knuckles, she shook her head and gently replied, “Only if you would think less of me for also worrying after you.”

Cullen’s jaw clenched as he stared at her, his nostrils flared as he visibly recalled the emotions he had felt, the fear he had struggled with. Delani felt awful for making him worry. She doubted it would make him feel any better if she admitted that she had also been afraid for her own survival as well.

“When Clarel unleashed that spell, when the entire wall started to collapse,” Cullen shook his head, banishing the thoughts, chasing away the memory. Delani understood. She wanted to erase the memory just as much as he did. His hand moved from her cheek to the nape of her neck. Gently he tugged her toward him until her forehead was pressed against his. “I thought that I’d lost you for sure.”

Shutting her eyes, Delani relished the feel of his brow pressed against hers. She basked in the heat that radiated off of him in waves, the masculine power that spoke to her senses and stirred something feminine deep inside of her. Allowing a comforting smile to stretch over her lips, Delani reminded him, “This cat still has a few more lives, remember?”

A slow and even chuckle sounded from him and Cullen reluctantly released her. Raising his glass in cheers, he said, “To making the most of them.”

She bit her lip in a poor attempt to hide her replying smile. Clinking her glass against his, she took another sip of the delectable wine before holding the glass steady on top of her lap. Delani stared into the deep maroon liquid, contemplating it, admiring the rich color and the sweet flavor.

This was a pleasant distraction, but the residual ache that was starting to set in her overworked muscles was reminding her of why she had been pushing herself so hard to begin with. Deep-seated disquiet started to nest in the thicket of her chest, black inky fingers sifting through her until it was all she could feel.

Delani took in a sharp breath when Cullen tucked a finger under her chin and pulled her attention to him. Worry was back in his amber gaze, stronger than it had been before. His tone was gentle when he spoke.

“Hey,” he started, holding her gaze, offering her a comforting smile, “Are you alright?”

Biting back the immediate and untrue ‘yes, I’m fine’ she shook her head and took a deep, steadying breath. Despite the newness of their relationship, Delani felt as though it were only right that she share her feelings with Cullen. She wanted transparency and communication, and the only way that she was going to get them was by starting with herself. If she could allow herself to trust Cullen then, perhaps, he would return the kindness. It was the only way she knew how to make their relationship work.

She took another sip from her wine glass, finishing what remained of her drink before setting the glass aside. Clearing her throat, Delani trained her gaze on the cloth beneath them and started picking the stray balls of lint from its surface.

Quietly, she started, “I assume that you’ve read my report about what happened when I tore open the Veil, when I walked through the Beyond,” shaking her head she corrected the term to the one that humans used, “the Fade.”

Cullen nodded once, his expression was both curious and concerned. “I have.”

“So you know about what I saw there…” she rubbed her arm, fighting off the dreary chill that coursed through her bones like a cold that no fire could warm. “You know about the fear demon?”

He inched closer to her, moving so that he could catch her gaze and, once he had, lock it with his own. Cullen’s brow was furrowed with worry, and his tone was gentle when he informed her, “I only know what was on the report.” Placing a comforting hand on her arm, he wondered, “What happened, Delani?”

“The fear demon,” she clasped her eyes shut and took another deep breath. Working out had been a much easier way of exorcising the memory. She hadn’t expected giving voice to her fears to be easy, but she hadn’t anticipated it being this difficult either. “It showed me what my greatest fear was, and now it haunts me.”

Offering her a sympathetic look, he asked, “Is this why you were pushing yourself so hard before?”

Delani nodded. Self-consciously she explained, “If my every muscle aches then the pain will distract me from my thoughts.”

“And your fears,” Cullen completed for her and Delani nodded that he had it right. Warm amber eyes gazed at her with such tenderness that she could hardly stand it. The small smile that warmly inched across his lips was supportive.

Cullen placed his hand on  her knee and gently squeezed her leg before asking, “Tell me what this fear is that haunts my brave huntress, so that we may conquer it together.”

She couldn’t help the smile that unearthed on her lips at the sound of his words. Cullen was so sweet, so caring. He wanted to attend to her needs, to make sure that she was alright and, Creators, did she want to let him. In her entire life she had only met one other man like him, and she had lost him to her own stupidity. The smile fell from her face and Delani’s gaze fell to where his hand was still resting on her knee.

Placing her hand on top of his, she squeezed his strong digits before looking back into his welcoming golden eyes. “I’m afraid that I’m not enough.” Opening her marked hand, the anchor glowed with its otherworldly green light. She glared at it, frowning at the scar, at her curse.

When she clasped her hand shut again, she muttered, “This wasn’t given to me by the Maker,” she looked up to meet Cullen’s gaze again, trying to make him understand what she had known all along, and what she now feared beyond reason. “I’m not the ‘Herald of Andraste’. I’m just an elf with a terrible sense of timing and extraordinarily bad luck. And I’m afraid that I won’t be enough to do what needs to be done.”

His expression softened and Cullen pulled her into his arms. Pressing her against his chest, his warmth enveloped her and suddenly Delani felt as though he were filling her with his strength. Cullen was the sun, and she needed him to bloom, she needed his light to give her strength; for without it she would surely fail.

There was a mildly reprimanding laugh in his voice when he next spoke, scolding her for ever thinking that way. “You are far from ‘just an elf,’ Delani.” He pulled away slightly so that he could look her in the eyes. Shaking his head as he stared at her, he assured her, “You are strong, brave, and conscientious. You are more than most people could ever aspire to be, and no old Tevinter magic made you that way. It’s just who you are.”

Cupping her cheek in his hand, Cullen insisted, “You need not ever fear not being enough, because you are not alone in this. You have your companions, you have your advisors, and you have me.” He smiled at her, reaffirming the honesty of his words. “We are here to support and assist you, and with us by your side you will not fail.”

She let his words sink in past her surface, allowed them to reverberate through her. She was not alone. She had Cullen, and he would not let her fall. Suddenly she felt the fool for ever fearing being inadequate. How could she ever have such a fear when this powerful, strong, and intelligent man looked at her like that? Biting into her bottom lip, Delani could do little more than just stare at this handsome man who she was so undeserving of. Where had he come from? How did such a man even exist?

“Thank you, vhenan’ara,” she whispered, not trusting her voice to not give away how deeply his words had touched her.

A smile grew on his lips, it was soft and self-conscious and accompanied by a soft blush. “Would you be upset with me if I kissed you?” he asked, hesitant, careful, needy.

Delani gnawed on her bottom lip and felt her own cheeks flush. Grinning, she informed him, “I would be upset with you if you didn’t.”

Without needing further invitation, Cullen brought his mouth down to hers and stole the breath right from her lungs. Delani reacted on instinct. She buried her fingers in his silky blond hair and secured his lips against hers. At the feeling of his tongue tickling at her bottom lip, Delani welcomed him into her mouth with a moan.

He tasted of wine and warmth, and it was intoxicating. Delani felt her whole body come alive with his heat. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose, her lungs filling with his scent, and it only served to heat her blood faster. He was hot, his touch was fire, Cullen was the sun and she was happily burning in his light.

His hands were on her, his reaction to her just as strong. With one hand at the nape of her neck and the other at the small of her back, Cullen pinned her to his chest. The kiss may have started out as gentle, timid, but it had quickly escalated to desperate and needy. Cullen was a heady creature, and she wanted more of him, she wanted all of him.

All notions of propriety abandoned them and they couldn’t even blame it on the wine. It was the feel of his lips against hers, his tongue in her mouth, his hands on her body that were leaving her so helplessly inebriated. Delani felt as though she were on fire, and he was the only person who would ever be able to put it out.

Gently, reverently, Cullen eased her onto her back, his lips not leaving hers for a second. Delani desperately grasped at his back, pulling his body toward hers, needing to feel his weight pressed against her. He was driving her mad. Coherent thought was impossible. There was only Cullen, the taste of him, the feel of him, her need for him. How easily their exchanging blushes and chaste kisses became something so much more dangerous.

His hand was on her thigh, rubbing the length of it, the friction adding heat to the inferno raging inside of her. Delani felt mindless, out of control. She wanted Cullen. She had never wanted anyone so badly in her entire life. This man was made of desire, the taste of him promised such sensual things. Did he even realize the effect that he had on her? Did he know what he was doing to her?

The answer was an obvious no because, if he did, he wouldn’t have moved his lips from hers. He wouldn’t have left a trail of kisses all the way to her neck. If Cullen knew how dangerous the ground was beneath him, he would have never taken her earlobe into his mouth. He would have never dragged the fire of his tongue up the length of her long pointed ear.

Delani’s eyesight immediately blackened. Her entire body bowed in reaction to his mouth on her ear. She fisted his pauldrons, a moan shaking through her. It was loud, it was needy, and he should not have done that. When she came to there was an aggression inside of her, a fierceness that he could never have anticipated.

She shoved his shoulder, rolling him off of her and onto his back, and climbed on top of him in one smooth motion. It happened quickly, faster than he had time to blink. Cullen stared up at her, his eyes wide with surprise and desire. Delani stared down at him, watching her prey, her nostrils flared as she breathed him in.

Hand firmly gripping his breastplate, Delani was just about to show him the dangers of licking her ears when the sound of someone clearing their throat came from behind her. Her gaze ripped over her shoulder, dangerous, a growl in her throat. How dare anyone interrupt them. It was an offense punishable by death.

When she found Bella Hawke standing behind her, Delani allowed her fury to slowly subside. She climbed off of Cullen and stood to her feet. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Cullen straightening out his clothes and try to comb his hair back into place. She didn’t need to see his face to know that he was blushing intensely. The position that Bella had just caught them in had been very precarious. He was only lucky that she had come when she had. One moment later and Cullen would have been ravaged, and that was surely a worse position to be caught in.

“Nice technique, Inquisitor,” Bella remarked with a laugh in her voice. Her blue eyes were alight with amusement, mirth in her features, a teasing smile on her lips. “Large and in charge is also my position of choice.”

Delani fought the replying grin from her lips. “You better have a damn good reason for interrupting, Bella,” she growled, even though her tone was playful.

Tousling her curls away from her face, Bella shook her head and shrugged. “I did,” she assured Delani before moving her gaze onto Cullen and allowing a large and taunting grin to expand over her lips. “But I can’t remember what it was.”

Yeah, Delani could sympathize. Cullen had that effect on her too.

Chapter Text

“And what is the word for tree?” asked Cullen, watching Delani’s plush lips, waiting for her to form the word so that he could imitate her.

She smiled, her green eyes bright and flashing with content laughter. Speaking slowly so that he could listen to her nuances, so that he could see the shape of the word on her lips, so that he could hear where to properly place the accent, she answered, “Adahl.”

“Adahl.” he repeated, smiling to himself.

What a strange and beautiful language she spoke. Cullen knew that it would take time for him to properly learn it, but he wanted to. Delani often spoke with Solas in Elvish. She also spoke in it with Cullen, whispers while they kissed, and he wanted to know what she was saying, he wanted to speak it back to her. Cullen wanted to speak to her in a language that was so dear to her heart.

Already Cullen knew how to introduce himself, and how to say thank you. Smiling confidently, he stated, “Emma Cullen.” It wasn’t exactly a difficult phrase, but he was learning, and he loved how Delani grinned when she heard him speak her native tongue.

“Ir sul’dirth, vhenan’ara,” she happily replied, praising him for remembering the wording and pronouncing it correctly.

Bowing his head in gratitude, Cullen inserted, “Ma serannas,” and smiled to himself when Delani’s grin grew.

They were in the garden again, not too far from where Cullen had set up the picnic for the both of them. He felt an irritatingly familiar warmth start to spread under his cheeks as he remembered how far their kiss had gone and how quickly they had lost themselves to it. If Hawke hadn’t interrupted —he still hadn’t forgiven her for the intrusion— Cullen wondered how far it would have gotten.

The moment that Cullen had traced the shape of Delani’s ear with his tongue she had become a woman possessed. She had kicked his feet out from under him during their sparring match, Cullen knew how swiftly and effectively she moved, but that time had been different. When Cullen had tasted the shell of her ear, had traveled its length from lobe to tip, her entire body had reacted to him.

Her moans had stoked the flame burning dangerously inside of him, her back had arched to press her chest to his, her fingers had clasped at him with senseless desperation, and Cullen had reveled in it. Then, a fraction of a second later, Delani had shoved him onto his back and mounted him faster than he could react to it. One moment he had been sucking on her earlobe, and the next he was bewilderedly staring up at Delani’s narrowed gaze, his instincts warning him that he was about to be devoured by a foe he could not defeat. Delani may as well have been a dragon; she had certainly looked the part.

Chaste kisses never lasted between them. He found it astounding how quickly simple affection was melted away by the heat of passion when his lips were pressed against hers, when her body was hugged to his. It was dangerous how badly he wanted her, how uncontrollably his body reacted to hers. Cullen had always prided himself on his sense of control, but when it came to Delani he traded that control for mindless abandon. What was worse was that he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by it. If anything, Cullen wanted to test the taste of her ear again.

Shaking his head, Cullen dismissed the thought. He cared for Delani more than she could possibly know. He did not want to soil their relationship by mindlessly succumbing to carnal desires. She was deserving of adoration, of fervent worship, not a meaningless tumble in the middle of Skyhold’s garden. There was no doubt in his mind that Cullen would have Delani, that he would know her as only a man could know a woman, but it would have to wait until the right time.

When his body had grown too warm with his wandering thoughts, Cullen cleared his throat and blinked himself back into reality. The cold mountain air helped to cool the desire inside of him that had started as an ember and had easily grown into a flame. The smell of blooming flowers helped to keep him grounded, and the weight of curious gazes helped to remind him that they were not alone as they had been before.

All of the paperwork that Delani had been avoiding for weeks had finally caught up with her. Josephine had managed to corner the Inquisitor, and remind her that reports and requisitions were a very important part of her responsibilities. After her scolding, Delani had skulked into Cullen’s office and pouted about how badly she didn’t want to fill out paperwork.

Unable to resist the adorable pout of her lips, Cullen had proposed that he keep her company while she attended to her regretted, and neglected, duties. He had his own paperwork to fill out, countless reports that needed to be read through, and he would be more than happy to do them beside her. “Perhaps pleasant company will make the task less of a chore,” he had said to her, hoping that she would agree to the arrangement.

Delani’s response had been an eager and immediate yes. She had practically bounced on her toes with excitement before running off to gather her papers and meet him in the garden. Now, more than an hour later, Cullen had already sifted through his own paperwork and finished what he could while away from his desk. To pass the time, and to distract Delani from her distaste of her current task, Cullen had decided to learn some Elvish. He wasn’t as quick of a study as he hoped he would be, but he was retaining more than he had originally expected himself to.

Tapping his fingers on the table dividing them, Cullen stared at Delani’s lovely profile. Her nose was so delicate, its shape refined, small and cute as a button. Her lips were full, naturally swollen, and currently her bottom lip was being gnawed between her teeth. She was resting her cheek in the bed of her palm and absently dipping her quill into the inkwell with no true intention of using it. The crimson color of her vallaslin was beautiful against the bronzy tone of her skin, and reminded him that it traveled well past the the collar of her tunic.

“So,” Cullen started before his mind could wander back down the dangerous path he had just turned away from. When Delani’s sea green eyes lifted from the parchment scattered across the table before her, and met his gaze, he asked, “If vhenan’ara means ‘my heart’s desire’ does that mean that vhenan means ‘my heart’?”

An embarrassed smile unraveled across her lips. Shaking her head, Delani explained, “That was actually just laziness on my part.” Her cheeks flushed and she brushed her bangs out of her face. She gave Cullen a coy look and said, “Vhenan means heart, and vhenan’ara means heart’s desire. Without ma I was just calling you ‘heart’s desire’ without claiming you as my own.”

He couldn’t help the smile that pinched the corners of his mouth. She was so damn cute when she looked all abashed like that. “It’s the intent that counts, right?” his grin grew when the blush on her cheeks deepened. Her eyelashes fluttered and Cullen couldn’t help himself when his hand reached over to trace the curve of her cheekbone.

Remembering himself, Cullen reluctantly retracted his hand and rubbed the back of his neck as he gave the garden a cautious once over. A few curious gazes were still on them, watching the both of them intently but, for the most part, they would continue to be left alone.

“What does da’len mean?”

Delani smiled, appearing happy to answer his question, “It is a term of endearment regarding someone younger than yourself.”

“And lethallin?” he asked, investigating further.

“Another term of endearment, for males,” she supplied. “It is usually used with those you are familiar with, like a clansman or a cousin.”

Humming that he understood, Cullen pursued the line of questioning. He was taking this conversation somewhere, he just hoped that she did not disapprove of where it was going. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, Cullen watched Delani’s expression as he made his next observation.

“Your mother calls you da’mi.”

She nodded, her smile softening with longing for her home and her family. She missed her mother and she missed her clan, but she was happy to have this conversation with Cullen. “It means ‘little blade’,” she explained. “My father started to call me it when he noticed my proficiency for daggers.”

“You don’t talk much about your father,” Cullen stated, straying from his original purpose in initiating this line of questioning, feeling as though he were treading on untested ground.

Was their relationship too new for him to pursue this topic? Perhaps, but Cullen desperately wanted to know what had happened. Delani’s entire demeanor would change at the mention of her father. Her posture would open while her beautiful features would glaze over with an expression he could only describe as ashamed. Was she ashamed of the man, or of herself? He couldn’t help how badly he wanted to know.

“No,” Delani agreed and Cullen picked right up on the warning in her voice, despite the nonchalance of her tone. “I don’t.”

Knowing that she wanted him to drop the topic, that was precisely what Cullen did. She didn’t want to talk about her father, and it wasn’t his place to press the matter further. He hadn’t even meant to bring it up, it was his curiosity that had gotten the better of him.

He cleared his throat and returned to his original purpose. Smiling in attempt to lighten the mood once more, Cullen observed, “It seems that everyone you care for, and who cares for you, has an endearment at the ready.” He placed his hand on top of hers and skated his thumb over the back of her hand before asking, “But what do I call you?”

The blush that spread under Delani’s cheeks was so damned endearing that he couldn’t help the smile that quirked the corner of his mouth even if he tried. She bit her lip, trying to hide the simper his words had pulled from her, and it was a failing effort. Leaving the quill in the inkwell she’d been splashing it in, Delani placed her hand on top of his and gently squeezed it.

A melodic laugh sounded from her, and she shook her head in answer to his question. “After how long it took for me to get you to call me by my name, I am perfectly content with you calling me Delani.”

Cullen returned her smile with a lopsided one of his own. Though she had a point, he remained largely unsatisfied with her answer. Delani was so meticulous with her endearments, only giving them to those she fiercely cared for. It seemed only right that she had one for herself, that he give her an endearment that verbalized how much she meant to him, and how deeply he cared for her. Terms like sweetheart or my dear felt so lacking when compared to the soul crushing weight of the Elvish tongue.

He would learn more of her language, and he would find the endearment appropriate for her. For now, he would oblige her in the simplicity of her request. Smiling in understanding, Cullen replied, “Ma nuvenin, Delani.”

“Ma seranas, vhenan’ara.” She said, patting his hand before begrudgingly returning her attention to the paperwork still left unfinished, and started to tend to the pile once again.

Leaning back in his seat, Cullen sucked in a deep breath and admired how the leaf covered trees filtered the sun’s harsh light. There was a chirping of songbirds in the garden, the sound displaced considering how far up the mountain Skyhold was located. Wondering how the birds had found the safety of the fortress, he admired their tunes as they skipped across the tree branches and into the sky. Theirs was a lovely song when compared to the guttural cawing of Leliana’s crows.

At the feeling of someone approaching their table, Cullen pulled his gaze from the overhanging tree branches to find the woman taking long, graceful strides in their direction. There was a smugness to Hawke’s face as she watched them, an overly confident gleam to her blue eyes that had been there since the first time he had ever met her.

A memory surfaced at the sight of her expression, an image of a younger, more spritely version of the woman inviting him to drinks with her and her friends. Her eyes had shown with a flippancy that Cullen had always found off-putting.

He could easily remember the fervency with which she’d used to pursue him, how she used to call all the stops in attempt to woo him. There was no arguing that Hawke had a certain beauty and charm about her —and that had not changed over the years— but the fact of the matter was that Cullen had never felt an attraction strong enough toward her to feel inclined to scale her protective walls built by sarcasm and irreverence.

Hawke had always been a wildcard. Her first year or so in Kirkwall had been a trying one. The Order knew of her sister, they’d known from the start that Bethany was an apostate. The reason they had not immediately brought her to the Gallows was because of how they expected Hawke to react to the abduction of her sister. If they’d knocked down the Amell’s door and taken Bethany, Hawke would have put up a fight that would’ve taken too many Templar lives.

He and Knight-Commander Meredith had decided that it was best to wait until Hawke put distance between herself and her sister. The only way to safely secure Bethany, without losing men to Hawke’s fury, was to do it while the sisters were separated. But the Hawke siblings had gone with Varric into the Deep Roads and Bethany’s magic was no longer the Order’s concern.

For all her claims of neutrality, Hawke’s distrust of Templars put her and Cullen at odds more times than he could count. She had assisted the Order enough times to give her breathing room, but whenever an opportunity arose to defend the mages she had taken it without pause. In the end, when Kirkwall’s Chantry had been decimated, Cullen had known without a shadow of doubt which side she would chose. Sometimes Cullen couldn’t help but wonder how things might have gone differently if she had just had some faith in the Order.

He forced a smile onto his face once Hawke was near enough to the table to pull Delani’s attention from her papers. Hawke’s gaze moved between them, her smile large on her lips, the mischief in her eyes was different than the kind he adored seeing in Delani’s green gaze.

Crossing her arms in front of her bust, Hawke said, “Nice to see you two lovebirds have some sense of decency.” by way of greeting.

Delani set down her papers and swiveled around in her seat to face Hawke. Perching her arm on the back of her chair, she smiled up at the other woman and shrugged. “Not much,” she replied, a joke in her voice, a laugh in her eyes. “But we figured that we had scarred you enough the last time you snuck up on us unannounced.”

When Delani gestured toward one of the two available seats at their table, Hawke accepted the invitation to sit with a smile. A weary breath puffed out of her as she made herself comfortable. Her voluminous curls were a disarray over her shoulders, wild and unpredictable just like the woman herself. When she regarded Delani it was with a warmth in her eyes, and the softness did not go unnoticed by Cullen.

His gaze moved to Delani then, and he watched as the two women shared a moment of wordless conversation. Their similarities were not lost on Cullen, he knew that both women were prone to fits of sass and snark, but for some reason it was only Delani’s playfulness that ensnared him so completely.

“Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that this is a goodbye?” wondered Delani as she softly stared at Hawke the way she reserved only for her closest friends. “Your injuries haven’t completely healed already, have they?”

A somber smile inched across Hawke’s lips and her shoulders jumped with a lethargic shrug. “They’ve healed enough for me to travel.” She answered, confirming Delani’s suspicions. “Though the Inquisition has been most hospitable, I figure it’s best not to wear out my welcome while I still have it.”

Delani moved in her seat, pulling herself closer to the other woman. Placing a hand on Hawke’s knee, she assured her, “You are always welcome here, Bella. You know that.”

The familiarity with which Delani regarded Hawke surprised him. Cullen looked from one woman to the other, watching them interact as though they were sisters. When he had first learned that Hawke was at Skyhold he would have never guessed that the two women would get along so well. Their similarities were too great, and their differences even more so. He had assumed that they would be at each other’s throats, like how strong minded personalities so easily became. Cullen had been wrong. He should have known that it was impossible for anyone to dislike Delani outright.

Patting Delani’s hand on her knee, Hawke smiled and rebuked, “You say that now,” before a chuckle eased out of her.

Delani reclaimed her hand and leaned back into her seat. Giving Hawke a measured look, she wondered, “Where will you go?”

“I have to swing by Val Royeaux to gather some supplies, then I go north,” said Hawke, tousling her curly hair away from her face. She scanned over the garden, inspecting all of its inhabitants in a way that made it clear that it was a task done by reflex. Since the occurrences of Kirkwall, Hawke had to remain always on her guard, even here.

She cleared her throat and continued with the rest of her answer. “The Grey Wardens are moving to regroup at Weisshaupt and, with everything that happened with Stroud, I feel as though I owe it to them to lend my assistance.” Her smile cut off whatever argument Delani was about to give, an argument Cullen assumed that they’d already had before. “Besides, it’ll be good to see my little sister again.”

When Delani didn’t immediately reply, Cullen’s gaze was pulled to the beautiful elf woman. She was staring at Hawke thoughtfully, her brows furrowed, her lips thin. He could tell just by looking at her that she wanted to say so much to the other woman, but couldn’t give voice to the words. It was the look that one friend gave another when they thought that they would not see each other again.

Quietly, Delani asked, just short of pleading, “You will write me, won’t you?” Allowing a morose smile to lift her lips, she added, “Keep me informed on your travels and how you are doing?”

“Probably not,” Hawke said with a laugh and a shake of her head, and Cullen tensed at the sound of her flippancy.

Could Hawke not tell how badly Delani wanted to stay in touch? Did she not care that she had made a friend in the Inquisitor? If there had been any doubt as to why he’d never felt an attraction to Hawke before, it was just answered. Hawke was facetious and thoughtless. She didn’t take the feelings of others into consideration before cracking her jokes. She did not care that her playful and sarcastic tone sometimes hurt those who cared for her. Hawke demanded respect but gave none in return, and he could simply not accept that.

If she noticed the pointed look Cullen was giving her, Hawke gave no outward sign of it. Offering Delani an apologetic smile, she explained, “I am not very good at keeping in touch. It is one of my very few faults.” When Cullen quietly scoffed her smile grew and she threw a wink in his direction. Returning her attention to Delani, she was the one to reach over and place her hand on top of the Inquisitor’s.

The joke faded from her eyes, the mirth fell from her features, and for a moment Hawke was the most serious that Cullen had ever seen her. “Delani,” she started, her voice soft, level. “I’d like to thank you for my life. As much as I know that it should be Stroud going to Weisshaupt, I can’t help but think about how cross Fenris would be with me if I’d let myself get killed.” A weak smile lifted her lips and Hawke shook her head as she thought about it. “He would have killed me.”

Delani stared at the other woman for a moment before standing from her seat and pulling Hawke into a tight embrace. At first Hawke stiffened at having herself wrapped up in the other woman’s arms, but after a moment she allowed herself to return the affection.

When they separated Delani tucked her hair behind her ear, and gave Hawke a small smile. “Good luck on your travels, Bella. Dareth shiral.”

“Thank you, Delani,” Bella said, her voice strained. Clearing her throat, she allowed a sardonic simper to unravel across her lips and said, “When you see Corypheus again send him my regards.”

“I will,” Delani assured her with a shake of her head.

Narrowing her eyes, Hawke forced her expression to turn serious before adding, “If you get Varric killed I will never forgive you.”

Delani nodded her agreement and her understanding. “I would never forgive myself,” she easily admitted.

Satisfied with Delani’s answer, Hawke moved her gaze to Cullen and her smile grew into a teasing grin. He nearly groaned at the familiar sight of it. “It was nice to see you again, Cullen.” Glancing quickly at Delani, she stated, “Take care of her, will you? Thedas cannot stand to lose her.”

“Neither can I,” he inserted before standing to his feet and rounding the table. He offered Hawke his hand and gave it a firm shake when she took it. When her grip loosened, he released her hand with a farewell, “Andraste preserve you, Hawke.”

Her smile was grateful before she looked back at Delani and pulled her in for another hug. She shook Delani as she hugged her, squeezing the petite woman tightly as though she were trying to absorb her into her body. When Hawke finally set Delani back onto her feet there were actual tears in her eyes, but she blinked and they were gone. She cleared her throat again and this time Cullen understood why. Hawke was actually getting choked up about her departure, it was endearing to see that she and Delani had formed such a bond in such a short time.

“Do try not to get yourself killed while you're saving the lot of us, alright?” She gave Delani a stern look, the request a serious one even if her tone was jesting. When Delani nodded that she would try, Hawke waved them goodbye and left them to stand in the garden and watch her leave.

A long and weighty sigh expelled from Delani before she sat back down in her seat and returned to her reports. Cullen found his way back to his seat and, once he was settled in, took a few seconds to watch as Delani sifted through the papers littering the table top. If she and Hawke had become so close then surely the topic of the mage rebellion in Kirkwall would have come up in conversation between them. Though Delani had chosen to ally with the Templar order, Cullen still did not know exactly where Delani stood on the subject of mages and Templars, or if she had an opinion at all.

Deciding to find out, he observed, “You and Hawke have grown rather close.”

A morose smile hinted at the corner of her mouth. “We have,” she confirmed, her attention still on the reports in her hand. Briefly glancing up at Cullen, Delani stated, “Her sadness calls to me. I see a lot of myself in her.”

Cullen agreed that they had their similarities, but Delani and Hawke were far from the same women. Still, he wanted to see how far their like-mindedness went. “Have you two spoken about the events at Kirkwall?”

“Yes,” she replied, her attention on the parchment in her hands. “Not at length, but we breached the topic.”

“So you know that she supported the mage rebellion.”

His words pulled her gaze back to him. The look she gave him was measured, cautious, curious. Auburn eyebrows furrowing, she slowly observed, “Everyone knows that.” before correcting both her statement and his own. “And Bella supported mage freedoms, not rebellion.”

Shrugging, she muttered, “It just so happened that a rebellion was the only way she could help mages get those freedoms.”

Cullen’s expression flattened, his tone was cautious when he asked, “So, you agree with her?”

Her answer wouldn’t change anything, not how he felt about her, and not how much he respected and admired her. He just wanted to know what her stance was on the subject out of curiosity. Delani was an intelligent, reasonable, and thoughtful woman. Her opinions were always based off of facts and personal experience. Whatever her answer was, it had been formed after heavy thought, and all factors considered, and he would respect it.

“Yes and no,” she supplied, an apologetic smile on her lips at giving him such an indecisive answer.

Delani set down the papers in her hands in a gesture that proclaimed that she would not be picking them back up for the rest of the afternoon. Folding her arms on the table in front of her, she wove her fingers together and sighed through her nose as she considered how best to explain her meaning. After a moment of thought she tried to help him understand.

“I support mage freedoms in the sense that mages are people too,” she started, her tone neutral and calm. “They deserve to live their lives without having their most basic rights stolen from them. They deserve to live without being persecuted just for the fact that they are different. They deserve to know that they don’t have to fear others so that they may also learn that they don’t need to fear themselves.”

Sighing, Delani’s tone changed as she moved on to the ‘no’ part of her earlier answer. “It isn’t only mages that can fall prey to demons, though they might be more susceptible. I do think that the Templar order and their supervision is necessary.”

Delani paused, frustration clear in her eyes. Cullen could tell that she had a lot to say on the topic, but she didn’t know how to give voice to those thoughts, she didn’t know how to articulate her feelings in a way that would make him understand. Clenching her jaw, she sucked in a deep breath before trying again to explain her meaning.

“Mages are people, and they should be treated as such, but they can also be dangerous and that shouldn’t be forgotten.” Holding Cullen’s gaze, he could tell by the look in her eyes just how badly she wanted him to understand what she was saying. “I believe that Templars and the Circles were necessary, but I also believe that the Chantry failed both its wards and its charges.”

“The Chantry is supposed to be taking care of its people, not enslaving and imprisoning them.” She shook her head, cutting herself off before she could get off topic. “What I mean to say is that the original idea behind the Circle had its merits. The Circle was a place for mages to learn how to control their powers and how to use them. They were given an education, food in their bellies, a warm place to rest their heads, and they were safe from both outside threats and inside threats.”

“The Circle should have been a sanctuary instead of a prison. It should have been a safe place for all mages to turn to if they ever made the decision to do so.” Beautiful facial features hardening with resoluteness, Delani continued, “It should have perpetuated understanding and acceptance instead of vilifying its occupants.”

Holding Cullen’s gaze, Delani said in a stern and unbending tone, “The Circle, the Chantry, and the Templars, they all needed to change. Though I do not exactly approve of the Chantry explosion that forced the rebellion, I do agree that if drastic measures hadn’t been taken the issue wouldn’t have been addressed for years to come.”

Cullen gaped at Delani for a moment, taking in her words and the passion with which she had spoken them. Delani’s ideals on the matter weren’t so different from his own. She believed in reforming the system that was already in place, fixing the mistakes they’d made, improving the areas where the Chantry and the Order had failed.

She believed in acceptance and understanding. Delani wanted equality for all, and she felt as though she were in a position to make it possible. His chest burned with an admiration and respect that he would never be able to find the words to articulate. She was a woman beyond compare, and how she managed to so easily take his breath away was incomprehensible. Her presence alone made Cullen want to be a better man, to strive for the world that she saw so clearly in her mind’s eye. She was awe inspiring.

Still holding his gaze, her bronzy cheeks started to adopt a rosy color. Her eyes began to flutter and she bit into her lip, and Cullen realized that she was blushing nervously. Tucking her hair behind her long pointed ear, she asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” he answered breathlessly. Cullen blinked a few times but was still unable to shake the spell that she had just cast upon him. Absently he stated, “Maker’s breath, you are so beautiful.”

The flush to Delani’s cheeks deepened and a large grin stretched over her lovely lips, which she attempted to hide behind her slender fingers. “Yes, well,” she cleared her throat, still fighting off the smile that persisted on her lips, before she returned, “so are you.”

Cullen chuckled at her retort, finding her reaction to his words utterly adorable. Just then he knew what he would call her. After everything that they had discussed in their time in the garden, he knew what would be the perfect endearment for his beautiful Dalish huntress. He just didn’t have the words for it yet.

Motivated by excitement, Cullen started to gather his papers, feeling the weight of Delani’s confused gaze on him as he organized his belongings. “I just remembered something that I have to do,” he said by way of explanation, hoping that the excuse would stick long enough for him to leave the garden.

Once his papers were piled together, Cullen stood from his seat and said, “I have to speak with Solas,” before pressing a kiss to the top of Delani’s head and walking away from the table.

She turned in her seat to watch him go, “Do you want me to accompany you?” She wondered, obviously unsure about whatever it was that had just happened.

Cullen threw a curt, “No,” over his shoulder before amending his tone with a gentle reassurance, “I’ll see you tonight,” and hurried for the rotunda.

Darkness was inching its way across the sky, nearly victorious in its invasion, it wouldn’t be much longer now until night prevailed. Delani was perched on the ledge on the battlements, where Bella had hung out when they weren’t searching for answers from the Grey Wardens. Her carving knife was out, digging the shape of a halla into the block of wood in her hand.

The tavern was alive tonight, songs leaking through its windows and the doors as they opened. She’d chosen her hiding spot because she wanted to feel the warmth of the people singing and laughing in the tavern, while also staying separate from them. Delani was content to just bask in the energy permeating from Skyhold, instead of participating in it herself.

Concentrating on her project, Delani tried to gently guide her carving knife as she worked on the halla’s horns. The horns were always the hardest part. They were thin and curved so intricately. If she carved the wood too thin and put too much pressure in her movements, she was likely to ruin the whole thing. This one wasn’t a toy for the children, though if she did end up ruining it, it would certainly end up with the other figures to be used as prizes. The halla was going to be a gift to Cullen, and she hoped that he liked it.

Her heart warmed at the thought of him, at the memory of his smile and the warmth of his golden eyes. He had surprised her today. His interest in learning Elvish had caught her so completely off guard, she’d had to make sure that he wasn’t joking before starting the lesson. The fact that he wanted to know more about her people, that he cared enough to want to learn to speak her native tongue, there was no way that he could know how much it meant to her.

Delani wasn’t so good with words, neither in her tongue nor in his, but she wanted to show Cullen how much his interest in her people meant to her. He’d promised to meet her tonight, and she wanted to have the halla finished before then. After he explained to her why he had run off so abruptly in the garden she would give the figure to him and tell him how much she appreciated  both him and the gesture.

When the horns where just about as good as they were going to get, Delani used her carving knife to smooth out the sharp edges she’d missed before. The thing needed to be sanded down, but a part of her liked how rough it looked. Halla were beautiful and majestic creatures. They were intelligent, loving, and dear friends to the Elvhen, but they were also wild, they were fierce protectors of their herds and their young. Delani felt that the sharp edges better represented the halla’s beauty and wildness.

At the sound of footsteps approaching her, Delani returned her carving knife to its sheath at her belt, and tucked the figuring into the pouch strapped to her side. She knew who it was by the weight of his footfalls and the militant measurements of his strides. Without turning to face her visitor, she struggled to keep the smile from taking her lips.

“You did not make yourself easy to find, Delani,” Cullen stated, leaning his elbows on the ledge that she was seated on. Giving her a sidelong glance he wondered, “Is everything alright?”

She looked over her shoulder at him, the smile she’d been fighting back breaking through to the surface. Nodding, she assured him, “Everything is fine,” before returning his question. “How about you? Did you get what you needed from Solas?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, abashment in his features as he replied, “I did.”

Curious, Delani inched backwards until she was back on her feet on the battlements. She turned to face Cullen, an eyebrow arched. “And?” she investigated, not liking being left in the dark as to what his whole escape had been about. “It must have been tremendously important for you to just abandon me to my paperwork.”

Chuckle rumbling through him, Cullen closed the distance remaining between them and took Delani into his strong arms. She grabbed the front of his cloak and stared up at his handsome face. “My lady,” he gasped, playfulness radiating from him. “I would never abandon you.”

She made a disagreeing sound and Cullen replied by pressing his lips to hers. A moan escaped her, unbidden. His lips just felt so damn good against hers, she couldn’t help it. Her body reacted to him before she could think. He made her senseless and Delani loved it.

The kiss was a short one, a brief moment of affection brought on by the warmth of their proximity. Cullen brushed his fingers through her auburn hair and tilted her face up so that he could stare down at her with his lovely amber eyes. After his moment of admiration had passed, Cullen released a long breath and allowed a warm smile to spread over his lips.

“I needed to ask Solas a question,” Cullen admitted, his expression turning uncertain.

Furrowing her eyebrows incredulously, Delani asked, “You ran off like decapitated chicken because you had to ask Solas a question?” When he nodded, she moved on her next question, “What was it?”

“I needed him to translate something into Elvish for me.”

Delani couldn’t fight the part of her that was insulted that he’d gone to Solas for a translation when she had been sitting directly beside him. She had been the one teaching him, why had he turned to Solas? Did he not like her method of teaching?

Unable to suppress the bite to her tone, she asked, “Am I that terrible of a teacher?”

“Not at all,” he assured her, cupping her face in his hands and brushing a quick kiss on her brow. When Cullen met her gaze again it was with the explanation, “I just wanted to surprise you.”

She stood there in silence, waiting for him to show her the surprise. The smile on Cullen’s lips turned nervous, and suddenly he looked self-conscious. Clearing his throat, Cullen took a deep breath before saying, “I know that you wanted me to call you by your name, but I wanted you to know how much you mean to me.”

Searching her face, Cullen breathlessly assured her, “Because you mean the world to me, ma atishan.”

Her heart leapt into her throat, and Delani’s fists tightened on the front of Cullen’s cloak. Ma atishan meant ‘my safe place’. Is that what he thought of her? Did Cullen truly consider her to be his place of safety, of tranquility, did he consider her to be his peaceful reprieve? She could do little more than just stare up at him, her eyes wide with surprise, her mouth slightly ajar as language escaped her.

The nervousness grew in his eyes when Delani took too long to reply. She blinked away her surprise, reaffirming herself in the conversation. She shook her head and released her hold on the fur of Cullen’s mantel. When she moved to take a step back, confusion spread over his handsome features but he let her go without argument.

Delani reached into the pouch at her side and retrieved the halla she’d hidden there. When she tugged it free, she held it out to Cullen in offering and waited until he took it from her before she spoke. She watched him inspect the figure, admiring how the smallest smile hinted at the edges of his lips.

“I wanted to do something to show you how much it means to me that you want to learn my language, how much it means to me that you care about every part of who I am.”

Reclaiming the space she’d placed between them, Delani watched as the smile that had been lingering under the surface of his mouth finally unraveled across his lips. Cullen looked up from the halla to meet her gaze and she finished, “It means the world to me, vhenan’ara, you mean the world to me.”

Carefully tucking the halla into the pocket on the inside of his cloak, Cullen pulled Delani back into his arms and forcefully pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was wet and vigorous, needy and filled with a passion that Delani had always known to lie dormant just under his surface. Cullen’s heat consumed her, his smell was in her lungs, his sweet taste stinging her mouth.

Burying her fingers in his thick blond hair, Delani leaned her body into his, losing herself to the kiss. He was her safe place just as much as she was his. She had never cared for someone as she did for him. Cullen was strong, he was protective, he was caring and compassionate. As impossible as it seemed, he had affections for her, and Delani would never know what she’d done to deserve him.

When he released her from his lips, Delani whined in protest and he laughed at her reaction. “Come,” he said, tugging her toward the steps that would lead them off of the battlements. “I promised Dorian that we would join him and Bull at the tavern.”

Delani allowed herself to be dragged toward the steps. “Now why did you go and do that?” She pouted. “I wanted to spend the rest of the night kissing you.”

Another laugh rumbled from Cullen and he grinned at her, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes as he smiled. “The night is young, ma atishan, you may still have your chance.”

A warmth spread through her at the sound of his endearment. She loved the way he spoke Elvish, how awkwardly the words sat in his mouth, how passionately he wanted to say them anyway. Cullen was a man like no other, and if he promised that there would be time later, Delani would spend it showing him how much she appreciated him.

Smiling, Delani replied, “I damn well better.” before tucking herself into the shield of his body.

Chapter Text

Fury racked through her body like currents of a malicious tempest, heated gusts of anger and disbelief tearing her apart limb by limb. Her teeth ached from how hard she was grinding them, her nails were breaking skin and drawing blood from the tightness of her fists. Every breath was deep, desperate, grasping for patience and peace. Delani was beyond words, beyond language, incensed beyond comprehension, and it took everything she had in her to not take a swing at Sera’s smug face.

She and the other elf woman had trouble getting along from the start. Much like Solas at the beginning, Sera did not approve of Delani’s Dalish heritage. Unlike Solas, Sera had not made any attempts to try to understand Delani or her people. Sera was strong minded and stubborn, traits that Delani typically found endearing, but Sera's stubbornness blinded her to the reality of the Dalish struggle.

When it came to the topic of elves, and being an elf, Delani mostly avoided the conversation. She knew that any talk of the Dalish people would escalate into an argument. And it had. Delani had come to the tavern to converse with her companions, to check in with everyone and make sure that they were all doing fine. She hadn’t intended to linger about in Sera’s personal nook, but the other woman had inquired about Cullen learning Elvish.

The look of disapproval in Sera’s eyes had been irksome from the start, but Delani hadn’t pursued her annoyance. Instead, she’d confirmed that, yes, Cullen was in fact learning Elvish, and tried to end the conversation at that. However, Sera did not let it go.

Their conversation had evolved from why Cullen would even bother, to how the Dalish thought they were superior to all other elves, and then onto how they needed to get over their past and stop pouting like a ‘bunch of piss-babies’. Every time Delani would try to leave the conversation, she would get sucked right back in, getting more and more heated each time. Already, it was all she could do to keep from jumping the other woman and beating her face into the back of her head.

“A victim will always be a victim, yeah?” Sera stated, raising her chin with indignation. Her green eyes flashed in provocation, and Delani knew that the other woman was goading her, pushing her, prodding her until she reacted. “Easy to cry about it, harder to do something, innit?”

Delani shook her hands at her sides, loosening her fists before she sent them flying. Sera was entitled to her opinion, she tried to remind herself, even if it was wrong. Taking several deep breaths, Delani didn’t tear her gaze from Sera’s as she tried to calm herself back down. Her efforts were for naught. It didn’t matter how many deep breaths she took, or how many calming thoughts she forced, Delani’s anger would not be abated. Pretending that Sera’s words didn’t bother her was no longer a sound strategy, silence was no longer her weapon. Delani wanted to fight back, and she couldn’t stop herself once she started.

“You don’t like the Dalish people, Sera? That’s fine, you don’t have to.” Delani bit out, fighting for control of the decibel and tone of her voice. It would be easy to scream at Sera, to verbally rip her apart, but that would only make her feel justified in her thoughts of the Dalish people.

She took a half step toward the other woman before she stopped herself. For Sera’s own sake Delani had to maintain distance between them. Proximity would make it easier for her to attack, and once Delani got started she would not stop.

“But do not pretend for one second that you understand the struggle that my people go through.”

Sera scoffed and Delani’s blood boiled. “Because they want to. Because it’s easier.”

“Easier?” Delani repeated incredulously before exclaiming, “Easier?” Outraged, Delani forced herself to take a step backwards, ignoring the part of her that demanded that she launch herself at Sera and force the other woman to eat her words.

“Explain to me what is easy about whole clans being decimated by bandits?” She did take a step forward then, her words pushing her from where she’d pinned herself to the wall. Her anger was a dangerous thing, and Delani fought with herself to suppress it. She was losing. “Explain to me what is easy about those bandits raping women and children? Explain to me what is easy about slavers coming in the middle of the night, tearing caravans apart, and selling the survivors into slavery?”

Already she was standing in front of Sera, her body posed for the attack, her chest rapidly rising and falling with the intensity of her fury. Delani didn’t reach for Sera, she maintained her fists at her sides, struggling with what little self-control she had left. Her voice was low, even as it shook with the ferocity of her emotions.

“What is easy about listening to your family, your clan scream as they are massacred? Watching the only home you’ve ever known and all of your belongings burn as humans laugh? Having your ears sawed off of your head and being strung into a necklace to be worn by the monsters who have destroyed everything you love and taken everything you have?

“Tell me, Sera!” she eventually shouted, her anger getting the best of her, her voice trembling with outrage that would either come out as violence or tears. Lip curling into a snarl, Delani demanded, “What is easy about any of that?”

Just when she thought that she would not be able to restrain herself for a moment longer, the soft sound of a young man’s voice calmed the storm raging inside of her. “Realization dawns like dew turned to frost,” said Cole in that trance like voice of his. “They’re not coming, are they? Dread and anger blacken what was once hope. No, da’mi, Falon’din guides them now.”

Cole blinked and he was out of her mind, back in his body so that he could assess what he had seen. “Their suffering makes you feel helpless, but you aren’t helpless.” The sickly looking lad gave her a soft, encouraging smile. “You are strong, you can help them now.”

“Thank you, Cole,” Delani said with a sigh. He had pulled her from the edge, kept her from submitting her to her blinding rage. She no longer felt like she was going to wring Sera’s neck at any second. She still wanted to, but now it was an urge she could suppress. With a forced smile of her own she assured him, “I feel better now, lethallin, you can leave us.”

Nodding once, Cole disappeared from the doorway, leaving Delani and Sera alone once again.

When Delani returned her attention to Sera, the other woman’s gaze was on the empty doorway and she muttered, “Creepy.”

Delani wiped a hand down her face and took a deep breath. There was no point in arguing with Sera. The other woman preferred ignorance over understanding. Cooly regarding her, Delani stated, “I don’t claim that the Dalish are perfect. We have our faults, and we have our problems. And some of those would disappear if we simply accepted the way things are and adapted.”

The look on Sera’s face turned victorious, as though Delani were admitting defeat, which was the opposite of what she was doing. Delani had to suck in another deep breath in order to maintain her veneer of calm. “We may be too stubborn and too proud to ever admit that we get things wrong, but the Dalish don’t have a Red Jenny.” Sera’s eyes hardened and Delani felt as if, finally, she had struck a cord. She pursued the line of thought, hoping that maybe she would get through to the other woman.

“When my people are cheated, bullied, taken advantage of, and killed in their beds there is no one for them to turn to, there is no one to defend them.” Raising her chin, she finished, “Hate the Dalish if you want, but know that hating them doesn’t make you better than them. It just makes you a part of the problem,” and left Sera alone in her nook.

Delani knew that nothing she’d said would stay with Sera. She’d just wasted her breath, and had gotten all worked up over nothing. If anything came from that confrontation it would be that, hopefully, next time that Sera broached the topic of elves it would be with a little more caution. It wasn't much, but Delani would take what she could get when it came to Sera.

She left the tavern in a rush, desperate for the cool mountain air on her cheeks. Once she stepped outside, she sucked in a deep breath and tried to banish what remained of her anger toward Sera. Delani didn’t want to dislike the other elf. The fact of the matter was that Delani actually admired her in a way. Sera was strong willed, she cared for people, and she wanted to help them. Sera was talented with a bow, and had this goofy laugh that pulled a smile from anyone within hearing distance.

But Delani just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t force herself to like Sera. She could work beside her, sure, help her with her ‘friends’, no problem, but like her; she had tried, and she had failed. It honestly bothered Delani that she and the other woman couldn’t get along. They shared many of the same ideals. Help people who couldn’t help themselves, and put people who took advantage of others in their place. On paper they should have been fast friends, in practice they were at each other’s throats more often than not.

Nothing she had said to Sera was a lie. The Dalish people played the ‘what we once had was taken from us’ card like it was the only one in the deck, but that did not mean that they were victimizing themselves. Dalish clans were attacked, they were ransacked, the people were executed or sold off into slavery, their goods stolen or set aflame. These were not acts from the past, these were crimes being currently committed against her people. Clan Lavellan hadn’t experienced such threats to that severity, but word spread among Dalish clans, and every ten years the Arlathvhen was smaller than it had been the decade prior. And no one gave a damn. Now that she was Inquisitor that was about to change.

With a shake of her head, she put those thoughts on the back burner. There were many things that would change with her being Inquisitor, most of them were out of her control. The plight of the Dalish, along with many other things, would have to wait to be addressed at another time. For now, Delani just wanted to enjoy the day before she was off to clean up someone else's mess again.

Combing her fingers through her auburn hair, Delani strode toward the main hall. There was something that she needed to discuss with Solas in regards to what he knew of the Beyond. She had spoken to him many times already about the topic but, some nights, nightmares of their time there disturbed her slumber, and she thought that if she understood it better she would have less cause to fear it.

As soon as she stepped foot into the main hall her attention was drawn to Varric. The look in his eyes was of warning. He was alerting her to a coming threat. Delani’s brows furrowed and she looked around the hall. She scanned the room from the far wall all the way down and found that there was nothing out of the ordinary. But she trusted the dwarf with her life. If he thought there was danger that’s because there was.

When an accented voice called for her, “Inquisitor, a moment,” Delani immediately understood what Varric’s warning had been about.

Delani noticed Mother Giselle coming her way and sighed through her nose. Glancing back at Varric, she narrowed her eyes and he shrugged in reply. He had tried to warn her, it wasn't his fault that she’d failed to react to the warning in time to escape Mother Giselle.

As her elder and a woman of faith, Delani respected Mother Giselle, it was just how she was raised to be. But sometimes the holy woman had a tendency of being on the overbearing side. She was a pious woman who sometimes stepped on the toes of the people she cared for. Delani liked the woman, had a soft spot for her even, but she was no Andrastian and that was not about to change no matter how often Mother Giselle tried.

“What can I do for you, Mother Giselle?” Delani wondered, placing her hands on her hips and releasing a long sigh through her nose. She hoped that this would be a quick conversation. The topic of Delani’s immortal soul was not one that she wanted to discuss at the moment.

Mother Giselle stood in front of Delani with her back straight and shoulders set, but she was wringing her hands and Delani could tell that she wanted to discuss something uncomfortable. “That Tevinter mage friend of yours—“

She quirked an eyebrow in warning. It had not taken long for Delani to warm up to Dorian. He was her friend, and she would not listen to anyone talk about him as though he were a thing and not a person. “His name is Dorian,” she reminded the Mother, allowing some bite into her voice. Only enough to get her message across.

When she noticed Mother Giselle recognize the warning, Delani softened her tone and wondered, “What about him?”

“I’ve been in correspondence with his parents, and they would like to arrange a meeting.” Mother Giselle informed her, her tone cautious as though she suspected that Delani wouldn’t approve of the communication. “I need your help.”

Delani’s brows shot toward her hairline with surprise. From what she’d learned from Dorian about Tevinter, she was surprised that his parents would reach out to someone of the ‘backwater’ Ferelden Chantry. Even more surprising was that they wanted to speak to Dorian. He hadn’t divulged much to her about his relationship with his parents, but what he had shared made it clear that they did not part on good terms. Delani suspected a trap, but there was a chance that his parents were reaching out to apologize. She needed details and only mother Giselle had those.

“Tell me everything,” instructed Delani, crossing her arms in front of her chest and taking a step closer to the Mother. She would decide her next step after Mother Giselle filled her in.

Cullen’s belly ached from how hard he was laughing. His face was buried in the crook of his arm on his desk. His fist hammering its surface as amusement shook his body. Dorian was seated on the edge of his desk beside him, his accompanying laughter almost as humorous as the story he was telling.

Fighting back chuckles, Dorian coughed in attempt to clear his throat and calm himself down enough to finish his story. “I’m telling you, Commander,” there was still a laugh in his voice, straining to keep amusement from choking him completely. “The entire estate smelled like a cheap Antivan whore house for a month after that. Mother was furious.” He changed his voice to a falsetto to mock his mother’s outrage. “Do you have any idea how long these rugs have been in our family, Dorian, she’d said, And now they’re stained with wine and Maker knows what else! The Templars rescinded all invitations from then on out.”

He leaned back in his seat, the last of his laughter bubbling out of him as Cullen wiped the tears from his eyes. Taking several deep breaths in attempt to calm himself back down, the grin on his lips would not ebb even when his laughter started to subside. There was a reason he allowed Dorian to drop in unannounced and distract him from his work, and it was more than the fact that he told a good story. Dorian was his friend, one of the closest ones he’d made in a very long time.

With a shake of his head, Cullen replied, “I cannot imagine why.”

Dorian shrugged before admitting, “Neither can I.” The smile on his face was shameless, his strange grey eyes sparkling with amusement. “I thought we were having a grand time.”

“Debauchery’s not for everyone, I suppose,” Cullen countered, scratching the coarse stubble covering his chin.

The other man grinned impishly before raising a challenging eyebrow and commenting, “Debauchery is how you stay young, my friend. You should try it some time, it might do you some good.”

He shook his head again, a soft chuckle sounding from him as Cullen respectfully declined Dorian’s less-than-sound advice. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“You never know until you try,” Dorian jestingly insisted.

Smiling up at Dorian, Cullen carelessly shrugged and rebuked, “Then I suppose I will never know.”

A defeated sigh sounded from Dorian as he shook his head in disappointment. Carefully making sure that his perfectly styled hair was still in place, he stated, “Fine, be a stick in the mud for the rest of your days. See if I care.” Turning a playfully pointed glare onto Cullen, his eyes narrowed and he cautioned, “But when your skin starts pruning up like an old leather boot, don’t come crying to me.”

Before Cullen could make a poorly put together comeback the door to his office opened, pulling them both from their conversation. A smile immediately unearthed on his face at the sight of Delani entering his office, but quickly fell away at the sight of her serious expression.

“Delani,” he started, momentarily forgetting that they had an audience, and that with propriety came titles. “Is everything alright?”

She nodded reassuringly at Cullen before moving her attention to Dorian. Stepping deeper into Cullen’s office, she approached the mage with uncertainty in her sea green eyes. There was a piece of parchment rolled up in her hands, but Dorian had yet to notice the tension in her features.

“Ah, Lady Inquisitor.” He greeted her with a happy grin. “I was wondering when you would show up.” Giving Cullen a quick glance he commented, “Like a moth to a flame.”

Only when she didn’t reply with a grin or a witty retort did Dorian take notice of her atypical behavior. His smile started to fall, the shine in his eyes dimming with weariness. Delani closed the gap remaining between them and stood in front of Cullen’s desk.

“Dorian,” she started, her voice gentle, unusually so. “There’s a letter that you need to see.”

“A letter!” Dorian replied, trying to bring back the levity that had fled the room with Delani’s arrival. Quirking an eyebrow, he playfully wondered, “Is it a naughty letter? A humorous proposal from some Antivan dowager?”

Delani glanced at Cullen and was met by his confusion. Something was wrong and it pertained to Dorian, but she was reluctant to reveal what it was. She blinked and her gaze was returned to the mage. “Not quite,” she sighed in reply to his joking inquiry. Biting her bottom lip she took a deep breath before explaining, “It’s from your father.”

The change in Dorian was instantaneous. His back stiffened, the color drained from his face, all jokes were thrown aside and the man looked as though a reaper were standing in Delani’s place. “My father,” he said softly, dread in the undercurrents of his tone. “I see.”

Crossing his arms defiantly in front of his chest, Dorian raised a displeased eyebrow before begrudgingly investigating, “And what does Magister Halward want, pray tell?”

She glanced down at the letter rolled up in her hand before she answered, “A meeting.”

When Dorian curtly instructed her to, “Show me this letter,” Delani handed it over without argument.

He took the letter from her grasp and unrolled the parchment. Moving from behind Cullen’s desk, Dorian paced to the far side of the room, quiet as he read the words. Cullen’s attention moved from Dorian to Delani and, wordlessly, he asked what this was all about.

She must have understood the question in his eyes, because she rounded his desk and stood beside him. When she shook her head it was to relay that she couldn’t say what it was about, but if he only waited he would soon find out. So Cullen sought Dorian out at the other side of the room and read the man’s facial features. They were hard, tense, miffed even. The tension in his fingers was wrinkling the parchment in his hands. Whatever was scribed on that paper was not to Dorian’s liking and Cullen found himself worried for his friend.

Once he was done reading, Dorian turned sharply to face them again. He was gripping the letter tightly, angrily. Brows furrowed with distaste, he growled, “I know my son.” repeating what Cullen assumed to be a line from the letter.

Incredulously, Dorian spat, “What my father knows of me could barely fill a thimble.” Shaking his head in annoyance, he grumbled, “This is so typical.”

He began to pace the length of the room again, his annoyance and anger growing with each footfall. Gesturing with his hands as he spoke, Dorian exclaimed, “He hired a retainer! And I’m willing to bet that he’s a henchman. Here to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter.”

Cullen watched as Dorian paced, worry filling his gut. He and Dorian only breached the topic of home briefly, it was one that the mage was not comfortable discussing. From what Cullen knew, Dorian and his father had had words and Dorian had come to Ferelden shortly after. That was all that Dorian had divulged, and Cullen hadn’t thought it right to pursue the topic. Now, a part of him wished that he had. What had happened to Dorian and his father to cause such a rift to grow between them?

Suddenly Dorian stopped pacing. He crushed the parchment in his fist, an angry breath wheezing out of him as determination filled his features and squared his shoulders. Without looking up from his tightly curled fingers, he growled, “Let’s go.” He did look up at them then, his grey eyes dark with anger, but Cullen could see the trepidation hiding in those stormy eyes as well. “Let’s go meet this family retainer.”

Her voice pulled his gaze from Dorian. “If that’s what you want, Dorian.” The set of Delani’s features was strange, uncertain but committed, worried but unyielding, supportive but detached. It was obvious that she approved of Dorian’s decision to seek out this retainer, what was less obvious was why.

“I’m following your lead on this one,” she assured him. “He’s your father, whether or not we do this is your decision.”

Dorian nodded once. “If it’s a trap we escape and kill everyone.” He gave Delani an approving once over. “You’re good at that. If it’s not I’ll send the man back to my father with a message that he can stick his alarm in his ‘wit’s end’.”

Not pushing the topic any further, Delani nodded curtly and instructed Dorian to, “Tell Iron Bull and Varric that we’re heading out. You have an hour to prepare. I’ll meet you at the gates when it’s time.”

“Let’s see what comes of this,” Dorian said before leaving Cullen’s office to let the others know that they were heading out in an hour.

The door slammed shut behind Dorian, leaving Delani and Cullen alone in his office. There was still a tension in the room, a tension that should have left on Dorian’s coattail. Looking up at Delani it was easy to see that she was the one radiating the discomfort bogging down the room. For a moment all Cullen did was look at her. She was beautiful, even tense as she was, but this trouble with Dorian had stirred up something inside of her, and that discomfort was creasing her lovely features.

“Delani—“

“My father died,” she interrupted him, cutting straight through whatever conversation would lead up to her admission. Delani probably knew what he would ask, she probably knew that he was curious about why she appeared to care so much about this.

She wasn’t looking at him, her attention was on the door that Dorian had just exited from. Tapping her fingers on his desk, Delani closed her eyes and shook her head, clearing her mind before she met Cullen’s gaze. When her sea green eyes held his, Cullen could see the pain hidden in those bright and bottomless gems. This was why she didn’t speak of her father, the topic was one that caused her pain.

“Ma atishan,” Cullen whispered, the practiced words still felt strange in his mouth. Pushing himself up from his chair so that he was standing behind Delani, he brushed a kiss on her shoulder and breathed her in. Their differences in size had always been endearing to him, now he hoped that she might take comfort in it as well. He hoped that being embraced by his larger frame would allow her to borrow some of his strength, make her feel protected and safe.

Delani turned to face him, resting her bottom on the edge of his desk. She grabbed him by the front of his cloak and pulled him near to her. Cullen encircled his arms around her, holding her closely while giving himself enough space to see the tormented expression on her face. He had been wanting to ask her about her father for so long, but Delani met the topic with such indomitable resistance that he thought it best to let it come out naturally.

The time had finally come, and Cullen was more than willing to listen to everything that she was willing to share. He wanted to know this part of her, he wanted to know every part of her, and he would be a fool if he didn’t think that Delani’s father hadn’t played a very large role in who she was as a person.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Delani focused on a spot on Cullen’s chest as she spoke, unable to meet his gaze for whatever reason. “I was seventeen,” she started, her voice was soft, barely a decibel higher than a whisper. “We were out on a hunt. We would play this game,” she said with a nostalgic laugh. Delani did look up at Cullen then, a reluctant smile on her lips and misery in her misty eyes. “Who ever took down the biggest kill would get to request the first story from Hahren Niveen.”

She sniffed away her emotions, shook her head, and coughed out another poignant laugh. “We had played the game ever since I was a little girl, we weren’t going to stop just because I was an adult.” Her grip on his cloak tightened and Delani held his gaze for a moment.

Cullen clenched his jaw at the sight of sadness filling her beautiful green eyes, eyes that were typically filled with laughter and delight. He wanted to take this pain from her, wanted to erase whatever terrible thing happened that burdened her so terribly. Delani had a soul too lovely for such dark emotions, if he could bear the weight of them in her place he would have in a heartbeat. Instead, all he could do was hold her while she shared her story.

“The buck I’d spotted was larger than the one you and I hunted before,” she said, reminding him of when she’d demanded he accompany her on a hunt. Worry for her clan had burdened her that day, today something else was troubling her, and memories sometimes wielded sharper teeth than worry ever could.

Returning her attention to his breastplate, Delani continued, “I slowed the buck down with throwing knives until I was finally able to get in for the kill. When my father came to help me get the buck back to camp I’d teased him relentlessly.” The smile on her lips was forced, filled with self-loathing, and Cullen hated it. “You’re losing your touch, old man, I’d said to him, does mother know that you are half the hunter I am?”

“You were having fun,” Cullen reasoned. She couldn’t hate herself for enjoying time with her father. Poor sportsmanship was hardly reason enough for the level of self-hatred permeating from her. “There’s no harm in that.”

“I was distracted,” she snapped in return. Her eyes sharpened, her lips thinned, anger filled her expression and it was directed at herself. “I should have spent less time showboating and more time paying attention to my surroundings. If I’d been paying closer attention I would have seen that the stag had taken us into a dragon’s territory. If I’d spent less time teasing my father I would have known that we were also being hunted.”

He didn’t reply. He couldn’t. What could Cullen say to that? She’d been seventeen at the time, a young woman just out of adolescence. It made sense for her to be a cocky, arrogant brat. Most teenagers were. Surely she couldn’t blame her father’s death on her own adolescent snark.

Testing the fabric of his cloak between her fingers, Delani focused her gaze on the mannerism as she spoke. Her voice was level, distant, as though she were no longer with him but back in that place in her past that had hurt her so terribly. “I didn’t notice the drake behind me until I saw the horror on my father’s face. When I turned to face it I tripped on a root and, before the drake could devour me, my father started to shoot it with arrows.”

“Sixteen arrows he unleashed into that drake, and not one missed its mark,” she said as though the fact was one that still amazed her to this day. Shaking her head, Delani continued, “It wasn’t enough to kill the drake, it wasn’t even enough to slow him down. Instead of killing me, the drake went after my father.” The color drained from her face, her eyes widened as she recalled the event. Horror filled Delani’s face and all Cullen could do was watch as old demons clawed their way back to the surface.

Delani breathlessly whispered, “I can still hear his screams.”

Not knowing what else to do, Cullen closed his arms around her and pulled Delani into his chest. He crushed her against him, squeezed her so tightly she would have no room to doubt that he would protect her from anything, be it a drake or this terrible memory. Kissing the top of her head, Cullen murmured against her hair, “Come back to me, ma atishan. Be here with me.”

He could feel her trembling in his grasp, could hear her sniffing back her tears. After a moment she cleared her throat, set her shoulders, and pushed herself from Cullen’s chest until there was space between them again. Her voice betrayed her when she next spoke, breaking at the beginning of her sentence before she cleared the emotion from her throat again.

“I don’t remember how I killed the drake,” she said. “One moment I was on the forest floor, watching, paralyzed in place as the beast devoured my father. The next moment I was on the drake’s back, cutting my daggers into its neck until its head fell off.”

When Delani met his gaze again he could see the tears back in her eyes, could easily recognize the loathing with which she regarded herself. She clasped her eyes tightly shut, but not before a stream of tears ran down her cheeks. Cullen cupped her face in his hands and used the pads of his thumbs to wipe her tears away. Gently he said, “You can’t possibly blame yourself for your father’s death.”

Her eyes ripped open and she was glaring at him, angry that he would dare to argue her guilt in the matter. Tearing his hands from her face she growled, “Of course I can. Who else is to blame?”

Shaking his head in exasperation, Cullen supplied, “The drake, misfortune, fate?” When Delani started to shake her head, he gently gripped her by the chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “The situation was out of your control. You were young—“

“I was a hunter,” she corrected as though that automatically locked her guilt into place.

“You were a girl,” Cullen insisted, unwilling to hear anything to the contrary. “You were a girl who was at the wrong place at the wrong time and a wild animal, that you could have never anticipated, attacked you and your father. Your father died defending you, Delani, he didn’t die because of you.”

She was unwilling to listen. Stubborn as always, she would not be swayed. For years she had blamed herself for her father’s death, still she thought she was at fault. He wouldn’t be able to convince her that she was blameless, that it was just an unavoidable accident, the hand that life had dealt her. The only person that would ever help her come to terms with the events was herself and, after a decade, she still wasn’t ready to accept that her father was gone and it wasn’t her fault.

“It was because of me,” she said, a sob in her voice. Delani pressed her head to his chest and her body shook as she cried.

Cullen wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. There was little more that he could do. All he could do was press her to him and hope that she would absorb his strength as her own. He had seen Delani laugh, but he had never witnessed her cry. Seeing her now, like this, broke his heart in two. How could a woman so brave, so strong, so empowered go so long believing that she could have changed the outcome of fate, that it was her fault that life was cruel and death was constant.

Whispering calming nothings into her ear, Cullen held onto Delani until her body stopped trembling, until she’d won over her emotions again. He knew that this was part of the problem. Delani didn’t allow herself to feel her pain, she didn’t allow herself to endure her suffering. She bottled it up, stored it away, and buried it deep inside. Now that she had to address this old buried box of anger and self-loathing, she was overcome by emotions that she should have already dealt with years ago.

He would help her through this. He would be there for this woman who held the weight of the world on her shoulders. Later he would acknowledge the part of him that was overly satisfied that she felt comfortable enough with him to let him see her like this. Later he would acknowledge the fact that she trusted him with this part of the past that she was so cripplingly ashamed of.

“If I had reacted quicker, if I had paid more attention, if I had kept my footing, if I’d just been better my father would still be alive and I wouldn’t have lived for the last ten years knowing that I failed him.”

“No,” he wouldn’t hear any more of it. Cullen forced her to hold his gaze, forced her to hear the truth of his words, and to feel the warmth of his affection for her. If she could see how much he cared about her, how highly he thought of her, then maybe she could see that perhaps all this blame that she had placed upon herself was unnecessary. “You were a girl with the misfortune of losing her father too soon. His death wasn’t your fault, there was nothing that you could have done. You let these ‘what if’s plague you, but they are meaningless, because they change nothing.”

Suddenly Cullen knew where Delani’s fears of inadequacy stemmed from. Losing her father so violently had been more than emotionally scarring, but mentally as well. She blamed herself, and so she found fault with everything she’d been at the time: weak, inexperienced, unprepared. She’d just been a girl, a girl who expected too much from herself and didn’t know how to handle her pain. Delani needed someone to blame, and it was easier to blame herself than to accept that sometimes things were out of her control and there was nothing that she could do about it.

“You didn’t fail him, Delani,” he assured her, locking her gaze with his, imprisoning her in his embrace so that she had no other choice but to listen. “Your father was proud of you until the moment he died. He wouldn’t have blamed you for his death, so how can you blame yourself?”

Before she could answer, before she could argue her guilt further, Cullen stated, “You are not the girl you were back then. You’ve grown into a strong, intelligent, relentless, powerful woman. You are everything that your parents could have ever wanted you to be. You have to forgive yourself, Delani. You have to move on.”

She stared up at him for a long time, processing his words. After a moment she nodded her head, her movements slow, labored. The admission, the unearthing of all of those feelings, it must have been taxing for her, but Cullen was glad that he had been able to help her through it.

Delani was quiet for a second, waiting for her emotions to smooth out. When she looked back up at Cullen she forced a smile onto her lips and said, “My father was the first man I ever loved. He was my world, and losing him destroyed me.” She coughed out a self-deprecating laugh, embarrassed that he had just borne witness to that destruction. “We had the best relationship that a child could ever want with their father, and still there were so many things left unsaid between us, so many things that I wish that I'd had the chance to tell him.

“That is why I want to help Dorian with this.” Finally they had made their way back to the purpose of her story. She had told him all of that, had bared her soul to him, so that he could fully understand how much helping Dorian meant to her. Delani would never get another chance to talk to her father, to say all of the things that had gone unsaid, but Dorian still had the chance.

“I know better than to compare my relationship with my father to his relationship with his,” she said. “But I know that Dorian would hate himself if he didn’t at least try.”

Cullen nodded, he knew it too. Offering Delani a warm smile, he observed, “Have you any idea how beautiful you are?” She scoffed and turned away from him, but Cullen gently turned her face back towards him. He locked her green gaze with his, forced her to witness the sincerity and devotion in his eyes. “You are beautiful, Delani. Inside and out. Just looking at you leaves me breathless. You can’t possibly imagine.”

A rosy tint colored her cheeks and her lashes fluttered as a soft smile took her lips. Quietly, Delani rebuked, “I think I can imagine,” before grabbing him by the collar of his cloak and pulling his lips down to hers.

The kiss was deep, needy, comforting. Delani needed his strength and he needed her affection. The emotions that had passed between them left her feeling vulnerable, and Cullen needed to reassure her that his feelings for her remained unchanged. Although, that wasn’t exactly true. His feelings for Delani had changed, they’d grown stronger, they always grew stronger. Cullen was overwhelmed by her. His every sense became so easily consumed by her, his every fiber longed for her. Cullen wanted to know this woman, he wanted to have this woman, he wanted to show her how much he cared about her.

Their lips parted too quickly, leaving him longing for more. She pressed her forehead to his and sighed heavily. “I have to get ready to head out.”

Just then Cullen remembered that she had given her men an hour to prepare, an hour that she had spent the better part of telling him about her father. She didn’t have much time to get ready. Again, Cullen was seeing her off and hoping that she found her way safely back into his arms.

“Be careful, ma atishan.”

“For you, vhenan’ara,” she said with a smile, “I will try.” Standing on the tips of her toes, she gave him another quick kiss before ducking out from under his arms and striding toward the door. The smile on her face was warm, grateful, and the look in her green eyes was content. “I’ll be back in a day or two. Try not to miss me too much.”

“Then I will have to remind myself to miss you in moderation,” he returned, allowing his own smile to lift his lips. “Will that suffice, my lady?”

She shrugged, “It will have to do, Commander.” Blowing him a kiss, Delani turned on her heel and left his office.

He watched as the door swung shut behind her. Sinking into his seat, Cullen considered all that he had learned today. Dorian’s issues with his father ran deeper than he let on. Delani’s guilt over her father’s death was poison that consumed her, but Cullen hoped that they had lanced that wound and that all of the bad blood and buried feelings would bleed out on their own. She would heal, and he would help her along the way.

Cullen’s feelings for Delani were more than they had once been, more than they had ever been. He had never felt towards anyone the way he felt about Delani. The name of the sentiment hung heavy on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to think it. What he and Delani shared was still young and unknown. There was still so much he wanted to know about her, there was still so much left to share. After they had spent more time together he would allow himself to think it, to feel it, to accept the fact that maybe —almost certainly— Cullen was falling for her.

Chapter Text

“Tell me again why we’re waist deep in snow,” Varric mused, trudging faithfully behind her. He wore a thick coat, concealing his thick chest hair and protecting him from the cold.

Delani grinned back at him, amused by his complaints. “Because,” she started with a laugh. “I needed someone to come with me and you were the first one to make eye contact.”

“No,” he groused, displeased by her misinterpretation of his question. “I meant why are we doing this? What did you drag me out here for?”

She fought to contain her smile. Delani knew that Varric wasn’t really upset, he was just annoyed with himself for meeting Delani’s eyes and involuntarily volunteering himself to accompany her on this little misadventure. The poor dwarf was probably upset that he’d had to get all bundled up so that he didn’t freeze to death on the mountain side. Surely depriving the world the view of his luscious chest hair was a criminal offense. It had to be.

Leading them through the snow bank, Delani felt so inclined to answer him. Her smile grew, knowing that he would not like her answer. “One of the children’s dogs ran away,” she said, struggling to keep her amusement from her voice. “We’re on a rescue mission.”

“You’re joking,” it was a demand, a warning, she had better be joking or he would ruin her.

Delani threw a goading grin over her shoulder and snickered. Wiping the amusement from her face, she cleared her throat. In the most serious voice she could muster, Delani rebuked, “This is no joking matter, Varric Tethras. And I expect a little more sensitivity from you.” He arched a disapproving yet undeniably amused eyebrow in question, and she explained, “You of all people should know how much Fereldeners love their dogs.”

The dwarf shook his head, but there was no disguising the smile on his lips. Varric’s deep voice of baritone and brandy grumbled, “How easily you forget that I’m the one cataloging your story. You should think twice before pissing off the author of your biography, elf.”

“Elf?” she gasped, horrified that she’d been demoted from her nickname. “What happened to Scarlett?”

“I took it back,” he answered plainly. “I’m changing your name to ‘pain in my ass’ or ‘thorn in my side’ or the classic ‘what the hell am I going to do with you’.” Rubbing his gloved hands together, he grumbled, “We’ll talk about you getting ‘Scarlett’ back once I can feel my toes again.”

Her grin returned, brighter than before. Delani refocused on where she was walking, allowing Varric to stew in his half hearted annoyance. When Varric said that the snow was ‘waist deep’ he’d been referring to her waist, not his. Since Varric stood about as tall as her bust, he could at least see past the powdery white landscape they were trekking through.

Bringing Iron Bull might have been a better choice. Being as tall as he was, he would have been able to see far more than either she or Varric could. Or, at the very least, she could have scaled her way up his shoulders for a better vantage point. Blackwall might have felt more inclined to join her just out of principal. A child had lost their puppy. There was a small, helpless creature freezing on the mountain side. Blackwall would have volunteered himself if he had been anywhere within earshot when she’d been searching for a companion.

Even so, Delani was content with the company she had. Varric might have disagreed. He’d have probably eagerly relinquished his place at her side to the first person to show any interest. But Delani didn’t care, she was having too much fun toting around her sardonic and stout friend.

“Do you see her,” she asked as a joke, knowing that it would make him simmer.

Varric grumbled, “I can’t see a damn thing, elf. And you know it.”

Smiling in self-satisfaction, Delani scanned over the flawless scape before them in search of a break in the snow. If she could find tracks, she could find the dog. The little girl had tried to explain to her, between gasps for breath while she sobbed, that her dog had run off just before they arrived at Skyhold. Delani and Varric had followed the pilgrim’s path for some time before Delani deviated into the snow. She had a sneaking suspicion that she knew where the dog had run off to, but she wanted to find tracks in order to reaffirm her hunch.

“Just so you know,” Varric said from behind her, a laugh hiding in the undercurrents of his tone. “This is going in your story.”

Not bothering to hide her smile, Delani wondered, “Yeah? And what will you write about this defining moment in Thedas’ history?”

He chuckled, “For generations people will know that Inquisitor Lavellan had a bleeding heart and a soft spot for puppies.”

Scoffing, she challenged, “Who doesn’t have a soft spot for puppies?”

“I can name at least one person who prefers cats,” Varric replied, a suddenly somber distance to his tone. With a shake of his head he reasserted himself into their conversation and said, “Anyway, this must be one magnificent dog if the Inquisitor herself is chasing after it.”

Delani smiled before supplying, “Her name is Princess Phoebe, so I’m sure that you deduce her magnificence for yourself.” Her smile grew into a grin at the sound of Varric’s chuckle. They walked in silence for sometime before she started, “Hey, Varric?”

“Yes, your Inquisitorialness?”

“When you tell this story, can you say that I fought a dragon? Oh,” she corrected herself. “Better yet, two dragons, which I then tamed. And you, Princess Phoebe and I flew off into the horizon in search of more adventure.”

The sound of Varric’s laughter bounced off of the mountainside. “How about you leave the story telling to me, elf?”

“What,” Delani wondered, “too believable? Should I add something a bit more fanciful?”

Shaking his head, Varric chuckled and said, “Believability is certainly a problem that story is working with.”

A sharp sound came from the distance and Delani shot her hand up to silence whatever was about to come next out of Varric’s mouth. Recognizing her tense position as one that she often adapted when they were out of the field, and about to walk into trouble, Varric hushed up immediately. Delani’s ears twitched as she strained to listen.

Far away, farther than her eyes could see, she could hear playful yapping. The barking was hoarse, high pitched, the kind that a puppy made when it wanted to play. So Princess Phoebe still lived, that was a relief. Her being eaten up by a mountain lion had been a legitimate outcome of the dog running off.

“When you retell this story, will you at least mention how finding Phoebe, princess of the Kingdom of Mahbaree, ended a civil war?” Delani requested, smiling in self satisfaction as she led them toward the sound of the dog’s barking.

A sigh expelled from Varric. She could hear the smile in his voice when he asked, “Don’t you think that your life is incredible enough as it is? If there’s one person in all of Thedas who doesn’t need to be talked up in order to make an impression, it’s you.”

Delani turned around then, walking backwards through the snow as she made a girly aw noise at Varric. “That is the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” she cooed.

“Yeah, I’m a big softy,” he said before straightening his shoulders and schooling his features. Pointing a playfully narrowed glare at her, Varric instructed her to, “Keep it to yourself though, I have a reputation in the Merchant’s Guild to uphold.”

Jokingly, she retorted, “I’m telling everyone,” before turning back around to easier lead them closer to the yapping puppy.

Behind her, Varric scoffed, “No one would believe you.”

She let the conversation die at that, content to walk the rest of the way in comfortable silence. Delani adored all of her companions… most of her companions, but there were a choice few that she counted dearer to her than the others. Varric was one of those few. Varric was the personification of wit, charm, and nonchalance. Repartee with him came with ease, and he cared about his friends with a fierceness that spoke so deeply to her. He would probably never regard her as fondly as he regarded Bella but, if Delani managed to garner even a measure of that kind of affection, she would be grateful.

They continued to walk for a while, small talk comfortably passing between them to make the rescue mission go by faster. It wouldn’t be much farther now, already the sound of Princess Phoebe’s yapping was close enough to touch. The puppy was around here somewhere, she was just shorter than the snow.

“Phoebe,” Delani called out in a sing song way that dogs seemed to respond to, “Princess Phoebe, come here girl.”

The yapping stopped and Delani could picture the puppy’s head tilting to the side as she listened for her name. So Delani called after her again, continuing to make her way through the snow. “Come here, Princess. There’s a little girl back home that misses you, and toys, and treats, doesn’t that sound nice?”

A laugh rumbled from Varric, a delighted sound, as though he had just witnessed something so beyond belief the only plausible reaction was to laugh. “The Herald of Andraste, bargaining with a dog. I couldn’t write this stuff if I tried.”

Pretending to be annoyed by his observation, Delani glared at the dwarf and replied with a short, “You’re not helping, Varric.”

“I never said I would, elf.”

She stuck her tongue out at him before pushing past another foot of snow and stepping into a clearing. The snow had been plowed down by hooves, and melted down by the sun until it froze over to sleek ice. In the center of the circle was an obviously agitated goat shuffling its hooves in warning at the pint sized puppy furiously wagging its tail. The dog was looking to play, the goat was looking to fight, and Delani was looking to intervene before her promise to a distraught little girl back at Skyhold was broken.

“Alright, you little warrior princess,” Delani said as she made her way toward Phoebe. “I think that the goat has had enough fun.”

The goat disagreed. He lowered his head, positioning his horns, and started to charge down the dog. Delani was faster, spotting the signs of the awaiting attack before the goat had followed through. She skidded through the ice, scooping up the mabari puppy before it was met by the goat’s bone breaking attack. Standing back on her feet, Delani carefully walked a half circle, keeping the goat in her line of sight as she neared Varric’s position.

They made eye contact and the dwarf immediately shook his head, knowing what Delani was about to do. Nodding, she smiled as she gently tossed Princess Phoebe in Varric’s direction with the instructions, “Catch.” The puppy wriggled through the air, but Varric effortlessly caught her.

Satisfied that the dog was in good hands, Delani turned her attention onto the goat and noticed that it was positioning itself for another attack. A happy smile expanded over her lips. To the goat, she said, “You’re no dragon, but I’ll take what I can get.”

When the goat charged her down, Delani maintained her footing and readied her grip. A grunt escaped her upon impact. She clutched the goat’s horns fightingly, skidding back a few inches before she grounded her weight and used her strength to oppose the animal. Her biceps strained, the muscles in her back and shoulders locked, the strength in her legs kept her from losing any more ground, and after a second Delani grinned.

Making sure that her grip on the goat’s horns was secure, she moved her arms in a quick circular motion and whipped the goat onto its back. The creature made a dissatisfied noise as it scrambled back onto its hooves. It scratched at the ice, disgruntled exhales misting the air before it. When Delani waved it over with a taunting, “Come on, big guy. I’m ready for round two if you are,” it rethought the situation and left with another huff.

Disappointed that her opponent and fled so easily, Delani straightened back up and watched as the goat fled the fighting ring. That had been fun, and nostalgic. In the caravan she used to wrestle with the juvenile halla. They would get temperamental and rowdy, and the best way to deal with them was by wrestling them to the ground. Humans loved to talk about how sobering it was to face down a ‘good old fashioned mabari charge’ but any one of them would have soiled themselves if it was a sexually frustrated teenage halla they’d been facing down.

She clapped her hands clean, satisfied with her swift victory, and started for where Varric was standing with a happily panting puppy in his arms. “How does it feel, Varric? To be working along someone as awe-inspiring as I—“ The rest of her question was cut off by a yelp as Delani slipped on a slick patch of ice.

Without enough time to brace herself for impact, Delani felt it the second her head made contact with the sharp ice. A resounding pain flared through her skull and white filled her vision before black chased quickly after it. She felt a heavy breath escape her as unconsciousness claimed her mind and body.

Cullen was watching as Iron Bull’s Chargers trained, fighting against battle dummies while their leader gave them instruction. They were a single unit, moving together, anticipating the other’s moves, knowing each others weaknesses. Watching them was like having front row seats to a well choreographed dance. There was no wonder why Iron Bull was so fond of his men, why he had turned Tal Vashoth for them.

His attention was pulled from their training at the sound of a scout’s horn blaring. It wasn’t a warning of an incoming force, but of a disturbance spotted. Curious, Cullen raced up the stairs onto the ramparts and his eyes widened at the sight he found. Varric, the stout yet sturdy man that he was, was sprinting back towards Skyhold with a familiar body slung over his shoulder. There was a green light furiously aglow behind him, and Cullen had to bite back a sense of panic that threatened to swallow him whole.

Throwing himself back down the stairs, Cullen stormed through the courtyard shouting at Bull to, “Get Solas!” as he hurried down to meet Varric at the gate. He couldn’t wait to see if Iron Bull would listen to his instructions, or explain the purpose behind them. All that Cullen could do was run for Varric and hope that the dread blackening his veins had no basis.

Varric was almost at the gate by the time that Cullen intercepted him. Sliding to a halt in front of the dwarf, Cullen quickly relieved him of Delani’s weight, barely noticing the whining puppy tucked under his arm. He peered down at Delani, her eyes were shut, there was a gash on her brow, long and thick and bleeding profusely.

Blood was matted through her hair, painting her delicate features with its angry crimson color. Her typically bronzy skin was pale, the color drained from her because of blood loss, he assumed. Running toward the infirmary, Cullen glanced down to see that Varric was still at his side and he wondered, “What in the Void happened?”

A grimness was in Varric’s expression, yet in his eyes was the slightest shine of amusement. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Curly.”

Before Cullen could question the dwarf further, the other man opened the door to the infirmary and Cullen rushed inside. He ran over to the nearest empty cot and lowered Delani on top. The surgeon was instantaneously standing beside them, looking Delani over with her expert touch.

To no one in particular, yet both of them at once, she demanded to know, “What happened?”

It was Varric who answered, since he was the only one that could. “The Inquisitor slipped and hit her head on some ice,” he explained, trying to speak around the dog struggling to lap at his mouth. “She started bleeding,” he stated, discomfort obvious in his voice, not because of the blood but because of his friend’s well being. “I couldn’t get it to stop, or her to wake up, so I brought her back as fast as I could.”

The surgeon nodded as though the Delani’s injury matched the context of his story. She was pressing a rag to Delani’s brow, already it was soaked through with crimson. In truth, Cullen wasn’t entirely concerned about the injury on her brow. He was more worried about the pulsing green light emanating from her marked hand. It glowed through her glove, angry and dangerous, and Cullen could guess that it was unstable.

As if on cue, Solas ran into the infirmary and rushed to Delani’s side. “What happened?” he demanded. His brows deeply furrowed at the sight of the Inquisitor covered in blood. Knowing that the surgeon would tend to her physical wounds, Solas pulled off Delani’s glove and went to work on calming the force pulsing from her hand.

Cullen felt it the moment that the apostate’s magic flared. He held Delani by the hand and poured a cooling, calming, current into the mark. Solas’s eyes slid shut as he concentrated, he evened his breathing, and let his powers flow steadily from him into Delani.

“Our Inquisitor has about as much grace as a newborn druffalo,” Varric stated in answer to Solas’s question.

Feeling useless, Cullen grabbed Delani by her other hand and pressed it to his lips. He sent a prayer to the Maker and his bride, begging them to watch over this beautiful woman. When the surgeon had managed to stop the bleeding and wipe the area clean, Cullen could see for himself that the injury was not nearly as bad as he thought it was.

“It’s just a gash,” the surgeon stated, her voice calm, professional, if somewhat impatient with the men surrounding her. “There was more blood than damage, not even so much as a concussion. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll just stitch her up and she’ll be as good as new.”

The words rang with truth, yet still Cullen had his doubts. “Then why hasn’t she woken up?”

“She should any moment now,” the surgeon assured him, a needle and thread ready in her hands. Burying the needle into Delani’s brow, she started to stitch the skin back together again as she spoke. “Sometimes it takes a little longer to come around. She’ll wake when she’s ready.”

After a few stitches the surgeon was done and left Cullen with the task of cleaning the rest of Delani off. He watched her, worry racking through him as his gaze traced the shape of eyebrows, the slope of her nose, and the plushness of her lips. He was desperate for her to wake, for her eyes to flutter open so that he could see those gorgeous sea green irises staring back at him. As it turned out, he didn’t have to wait long.

Her lips twisted and her features pinched with a look that resembled distaste. Before her eyes opened, she groaned, “Where’s the princess?”

Cullen assumed that she was delirious, but that didn’t stop the relief from coursing through his bloodstream like a salve. She was going to be alright. After a few minutes to gather her bearings she would be fine.

When Varric stepped up and answered, “She’s right here, Scarlett, right back where she belongs. Just like you.”

He looked at the dwarf, finally registering the puppy in his grasp. Is that what they’d been doing beyond Skyhold’s walls? Chasing after a dog? Cullen returned his gaze onto Delani, incredulity spreading through him until he gave it some heavier thought. It was, without a doubt, something that Delani would do. Mixed emotions bubbled in his gut. On one hand, he was furious at her for needlessly endangering her life for the sake of a dog. But, on the other hand, he found it unbearably endearing that she’d gone through the trouble.

A grin settled on Delani’s full lips as she pulled herself into a seated position with a wince. Messaging her temple, Delani joyfully investigated, “I’m Scarlett again?”

“Not for long if you keep this up,” Varric returned, scolding her for her behavior, but he didn’t bother to hide his amusement as well, his relief, his affection.

Holding the dwarf’s gaze, she hesitantly asked, “You’re going to embellish my slip when you write this part, aren’t you?”

He shook his head, wordlessly admitting that there wasn’t a chance in this life or the next that she would be so lucky. “I wouldn’t bet on it.” He answered. His smile shifted from amused to something warmer. Varric was regarding her as a close friend, as someone he couldn’t bear to lose; it was an emotion with which Cullen could easily sympathize. “It’s good to see you’re alright, Scar. You gave us a bit of a scare for a second.”

Delani waved off his concern as unnecessary. Nonchalantly she rebuked, “All part of the plan, Varric. All part of the plan.”

“Was the plan to bleed to death in the snow, da’len?” Solas asked, cutting through their conversation with a scolding tone that matched his expression. All three of them looked toward the mage, surprised to see him genuinely upset with Delani for getting herself hurt when she didn’t have to.

Noting the sudden tension that filled the infirmary, Varric adjusted his grip on the dog in his arms and took a backwards set towards the door. “Well then,” he started, giving Delani an unapologetic departing smile. “I should probably return this princess to her family. We don’t want civil unrest on our hands, after all.” Not waiting for them to question what he was on about, Varric left the infirmary with the puppy in tow.

Cullen watched as the two elves stared at one another, neither wilting away from the other’s hard look. His curiosity battled with his protective nature. He knew that Solas was about to give Delani a much deserved stern talking to, but he didn’t have that right. Delani was Cullen’s woman, no one berated and chastised her. But Solas was her friend, and one that she respected. Cullen supposed that she could endure a brief berating.

“Don’t be dramatic, Solas,” she returned, eyes narrowed, a hint of a smirk trying to tug at the corner of her mouth. “So I fell and knocked my head. I’m fine.”

The other man’s lip curled into a disappointed sneer. Making sure that the anchor was calm once again, Solas’s gaze was downcast as he heatedly rebuked, “Ma samahl sahlin, solas shem'shiral din’an.”

Cullen tried to work out the words, registering that ma stood for you in this context, and that samahl meant laugh. Solas meant pride —the irony was not lost on Cullen— and shem stood for quick. Those were the only words that he could pick out, but it wasn’t sufficient context for what Solas had said. It was frustrating trying to keep up with their foreign back and forth, as Cullen could only make out every few words, and everything else was lost on him.

“Emma eth. Ma nuvenin hamin,” Delani returned, just as impatient with the man as he was with her. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared up at him indignantly.

The moment that Solas held her by her chin, forcing her to meet and hold his gaze, Cullen felt the wings of jealously unfurl in his chest. That was not the kind of gesture that one friend did to another. There was an unnecessary intimacy to Solas’s touch, the worry in his eyes was accompanied by something that resembled adoration. And Cullen grit his teeth to stop himself from reaching out and ripping Solas’s hand away from Delani’s face. It would be an over reaction, and he knew it, but this strange anger had a vise grip on his heart.

“Hamin?” Solas repeated incredulously. “Ma’em irsulevin.” He bit out, the look in his eyes fierce and protective, a protectiveness that Cullen knew well and was infuriatingly uncomfortable with another man feeling it toward Delani. Unaware of how his proximity, his affection, his presence was grating Cullen, Solas continued, “El felonen lath ma. Ma nuvenin elvarel dareth.”

Delani’s slouched her shoulders with a sigh and nodded. “Emma abelas, hahren.”

That one Cullen knew. Delani had apologized to him and, somehow, it served to fan the flames of jealousy currently reaping havoc inside of him. What was the true nature of her relationship with Solas? It was obvious that the male elf had feelings for Delani, but were those inappropriate and treacherous feelings reciprocated? Did she want him like he so evidently wanted her? Cullen’s fingers rolled into tight fists at his sides.

Nodding once, as though he were satisfied with her apology, Solas cooly replied, “Dirthara ma, da’len.”

As though finally realizing that Cullen had been present for all of that, Solas moved his gaze to acknowledge him. “The anchor is stable,” Solas informed him, his tone level, detached. Could he feel how little Cullen cared for his presence? Did Solas know how much the sight of his smug looking face offended him? If he did, he gave no outward response to Cullen’s uncharacteristic and unwarranted hostility. “She’ll be fine.”

Not trusting his voice to not betray his emotions, Cullen nodded once. He sucked in a deep breath in attempt to curb his rising anger. He didn’t know where this possessiveness had come from, where this jealousy had emerged. Deep down he knew that there was nothing more between Delani and Solas than friendship. Rationality demanded that he was overreacting. Jealousy was preventing him from accessing that part of his mind.

Solas shared another measured look with Delani before leaving her alone with Cullen. Standing at her side, Cullen watched the apostate go, glowering at his back until the door shut behind him. He turned to face the Inquisitor, struggling to school his features into neutrality. With another deep breath, he managed to put a cork on the anger that accompanied his jealousy, and was instead able to focus himself on his worry for Delani’s wellbeing.

She buried her face in her hands and her shoulders jumped as a self-deprecating laugh spilled through the cracks of her fingers. Her voice was muffled by her palms when she groaned, “This is embarrassing.”

Cullen rounded the cot until he was standing where Solas had been before. The thought of the other male reminded him of his anger, his jealousy, and he fought to shove those emotions back down. All in due time, he assured himself. They would talk about what was going on between her and the apostate, first he had to be sure that she was okay.

Gently gripping her by the wrists, Cullen tenderly pried Delani’s hands from her face until her beautiful eyes were revealed to him once again. The stitches on her brow would likely scar. It would have been avoidable if Solas had decided to heal her, but the thought of the other man putting his hands on Delani again was infuriating, so he shoved it out of his mind.

Cupping his huntress’s face in his hands, he tilted her head back and stared down at her. She had given him quite the scare. All that blood, the anchor pulsing like it had been, at first glance Delani’s injuries appeared more severe than they actually were. A small smile managed its way onto his lips as he stared down at her delicate features.

“What were you doing out there, Delani?” He asked, desperate to understand why Varric had carried her back into Skyhold on his shoulder. “What happened?”

She wrapped her fingers around his wrists and held his hands to her face. Sighing, she shook her head and placed a soft kiss on the inside of his hand. When Delani met his gaze again, he could clearly see the embarrassment twisting her features. “A little girl arrived today,” she started, sounding sheepish in her explanation, as if she expected Cullen to berate her just as Solas had before her.

“She wouldn’t stop crying these big, sad, heartbreaking tears.” A frown tugged at the corners of Delani’s mouth as if she were trying to demonstrate the sentiment for him, so that he could see for himself how little choice she’d had in the matter. “Her puppy had run away on their way here, and her father wouldn’t let her chase after it. It was lost forever. She was never going to see her little Princess Phoebe ever again.”

A smile grew on Cullen’s lips unbidden. He didn’t want to encourage Delani’s reckless behavior but, by the Maker, it was adorable. “We couldn’t have that, could we?” He couldn’t resist. Delani’s heart was too good, even if it got her into all kinds of trouble.

She nodded eagerly, regarding Cullen with gratitude that he understood the predicament that the little girl’s tears had put her in. “No,” she said in answer to his question. “So I took Varric and we went after the puppy. I found Princess Phoebe in the middle of an argument with a goat, and I stepped in to save the day.”

“And they’d said that you’d make a poor diplomat.” He commented with a shake of his head.

Delani nodded before pausing and narrowing her eyes. “Who said that?” she demanded, before a grin burst forth on her lips and she continued her explanation. “At any rate, I handed Princess Phoebe to Varric, and talked to the goat about the importance of —you guessed it— diplomacy. And then, once he’d seen reason, he left.”

Cullen’s grin was a mirror of hers. Brushing back her auburn hair, Cullen guessed, “And that’s when you tripped.”

Nodding, Delani sighed before supplying, “I slipped on the ice and knocked myself out.”

Tsking her, Cullen brushed his nose against hers and wondered, “What am I going to do with you, ma atishan?”

Delani gripped him by the front of his cloak and brought her lips up to his. Without brushing the plush flesh of her mouth to his, the warmth of her breath feathered over his skin as she whispered, “You can kiss me until I’ve learned my lesson.”

A hum sounded from Cullen, liking the idea. But before he could lay claim to her mouth, a thought nagged at him, needing to be voiced. With one hand splayed over the small of her back and the other holding the nape of her neck, Cullen wondered, “What is the nature of your relationship with Solas?”

The tension that made her body immediately go ridged was telling. Or perhaps the odd question had simply confused her. Not that his jealousy fogged mind was so easily convinced. As far as he could tell her reaction was as good as a confession.

Pulling her face away from his, Delani removed his hand from the back of her neck and, bracing a hand against his breastplate, pushed him back a step. She looked up at him past her brow with narrowed eyes. Her voice was low, dangerous when she asked, “Excuse me?”

With distance between them, Cullen could see her entirely. He could clearly see how tense she was. But was that tension because of guilt, because she did have something with that apostate? Cullen’s rational mind tried to worm through the green haze so thick in his mind, but there was no break in the fog, and it would not dissipate so easily.

“Your relationship with Solas,” he repeated, knowing that she had heard him the first time, but clarifying all the same. “What is the nature of your relationship with him.” Her green eyes sharpened to daggers and the anger he’d previously corked came loose with a pop. “Are you sleeping with him?”

Her eyes widened with horror before her expression tightened with outrage. “What?” she demanded, as though having him repeat the question a third time would help her to better understand it.

No longer interested in hearing her skirting replies, he was the one who demanded, “Well, are you?”

This was not happening. Cullen was not questioning her fidelity. Surely she was asleep, still knocked out from her own stupidity. There was no way that her sweet, controlled, affectionate Cullen had just asked her —accused her, more like— of sleeping with another man. Because if he had… oh if he had, there would be a reckoning.

Eyes narrowed, lip curled into a snarl, Delani felt her hackles rise as she growled, “Tell me that you did not just ask me that.”

“I did,” Cullen returned with none of the boyish shyness she’d come to expect from him. His broad shoulders were rolled back, his spine straight, the stance was unwavering, unrelenting. He had asked her the question, and he did expect her to answer it.

Lip curling with distaste, he commenting, “And judging by your reaction, I suppose I have my answer.”

Her eyes widened. No he didn’t. Delani felt a dangerous heat grow inside of her. Fury flapped its wings, breathing life into the embers until a raging inferno blazed inside of her. Cullen’s words cut like a knife, but instead of being hurt by them, she’d become ravenous with anger. Delani was a reaver and she was going to tear this silly little human apart.

She jabbed a finger into his chest and he held his ground, stoking her anger even more. “Judging by my reaction you should know that you’ve infuriated me!”

“Why?” he challenged with a quirk of his eyebrow, the accusation there on his face even if he had yet to say the words. Lowering his face closer to her, he prodded, “Because you have something to hide?”

Delani ducked around him, his proximity enraging, his heat was distracting. “No,” she barked, teeth bared. If he kept this up she was going to maim him. “Because the mere suggestion is ludicrous and insulting.”

He turned with her, not letting her out of his sight for a moment. Cullen pursued her every movement, her every breath a validation of his suspicions, a confirmation that she was unfaithful. How could he even think that? And why was this possessive, jealous side of him so damn arousing?

“Only if it isn’t true,” he countered, doubt obvious in his voice.

Glaring, Delani clarified, “Which it isn’t!”

“So you say,” he replied, taking a predatory step in her direction, causing Delani to take a retreating step backwards. That smoldering look in his amber eyes was threatening, not to hurt her, but to lay claim to her. In that very moment Delani couldn’t decide if she’d stop him if he tried.

Her back hit the edge of the table, and Delani was trapped. Cullen was closing in on her, his golden eyes dangerous, ravenous, and she could feel the heat directly in her core. Setting her jaw, Delani lifted her chin and refused to back down. She would not be swayed by her unwelcome desperation to be had by him every which way. Right now Delani didn’t care how much her body ached for his, how badly she wanted to taste him, to feel him, to mark him with her teeth and her nails. Right now Delani was mad at him, and that sexy look on his face was not going to distract her from her anger.

“Know this, Delani,” he rumbled, closing the distance that remained between them. Cullen leaned forward, resting his hands on the table on either side of her, imprisoning her. “I will share you with no man.” Cullen lowered his mouth down to her ear and whispered, “You are mine.”

She bit back a moan. Oh how those words stirred something inside of her. I’m angry at him, remember? she demanded her body to be still. Cullen was acting so unusual, so unlike himself. He was possessive and intimidating, and just so nail-bitingly masculine. The heat gathering in her nether regions ached for him. No! She would not give in. She was angry at him!

Ducking out from under his arms, Delani pinned him with a pointed look as she exasperatedly exclaimed, “What is wrong with you?”

Cullen turned, his eyes dark, shadowed by jealousy, by lust, by a possessiveness that she had never known him to posses before. “You haven’t yet answered my question,” he supplied, answering hers.

“And I don’t feel I should!” she threw back at him. Eyes narrowing, emotions quaking, Delani held Cullen’s gaze as she said, “How little you must think of me to accuse me of infidelity.”

He shook his head, disregarding her statement as false. “I’ve made no such accusations,” he observed, reminding her that the words had not actually come out of his mouth, at least not in the form of an accusation. He lifted an eyebrow before continuing, “I’ve merely asked you a question. A question that you have yet to answer.”

“Because it is obscene,” Delani spat, angry at him all over again for even having to ask that outrageous and unfounded question. “Because it is insulting. Because it should have never come out of your mouth to start with.”

Shaking his head, Cullen proclaimed, “He’s in love with you, Delani.” When her eyes narrowed not only with doubt but with denial as well, he insisted, “A blind man can see it.”

It was her turn to shake her head. “Solas respects me, he admires me,” she reaffirmed. She would fight him on this at every turn. How dare he ask something like this of her. How dare he even think it. “If there is any love between us it is from one friend to the other.”

Cullen stalked her down again, and again Delani blindly retreated until her back bumped into the infirmary’s support beam. He loomed over her, his tall body pinning her between the beam at her back and himself. Resting his forearm over her head, Cullen lowered himself toward her. His scent was in her nose, mouthwatering, like summertime and freshly fallen rain. Heat radiated from him, licking her surface, begging for her to reach out and touch him. Cullen was overwhelming her senses and all she could do was wriggle in place as she tried to remind her body that they were mad at him.

He lowered his lips to her ear and whatever moisture had been left in Delani’s mouth immediately dried. The flames of desire evaporating all moisture and sending it elsewhere. “What is the nature of your relationship with Solas?” his voice was low, husky, a primal growl that vibrated through her body straight down to her core.

There was no way that Delani could have answered even if she tried. Her voice would betray her. Trying to keep her hands pinned at her back was struggle enough. Oh, how badly she wanted to reach for him, to scrape her nails through his golden blond hair. She desperately wanted to grind her aching body against his, to feel his strength against her, to discover if he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

Delani clamped her mouth shut and refused to answer. Anything that came out of her would be no better than a breathy moan, and she would not let him know how badly she wanted him.

Placing a hand on her waist, Cullen arched her body toward his and she obeyed his commands without a fight. Delani was weak, and he was too overwhelming. Mouth still hovering by her ear, he wondered, “Has he touched you as I have?” and his hand went from her waist to her ass.

Her breath hitched. Cullen had never touched her like this. She had ached for it, had dreamed of it, fantasized about it without end. But Cullen was typically a creature of respectful propriety. This sudden, strange, yet unusually intoxicating shift in personality was driving her mad.

She breathed in his scent and her body quivered. With a shaky exhale, Delani answered, “No.”

The satisfaction in his smirk was loud enough for her to hear. He breathed and gooseflesh rose on her neck, sending shivers down her spine. Cullen tilted his head a bit and asked, “Has he tasted you as I have,” before dragging his tongue up the arch of her neck.

Delani did moan then, unable to help herself. Her body reacted to his by its own accord, pressing her pelvis into his thigh. She had to stop herself before she started gyrating against him. Biting her lip, Delani tried to steady her breathing but the more she breathed the more his scent filled her nose. Her heart was hammering wildly, desperately, needing him to touch her all over so that maybe she would find release and calm back down. How did he have this effect on her? How could she want him so badly when she was so angry at him?

“Creators, Cullen,” she gasped when his tongue continued to taste her pulse point. Tightly clutching him by the front of his cloak, Delani tried to reason with herself. She was angry with him. She had to remember that. It was the only way that she was going to make it through this.

She tore herself from his shadow with a roar, fleeing from his heat as though it would burn her alive. Delani ignored the part of her that wanted to be burned, that needed so badly for him to set her aflame only to put her out. When he made a move for her again she stopped him with a pointed finger and an infuriated glare.

“Solas is my friend,” she stated, returning them to their argument before he tried to cloud her mind with his wiles all over again. “That is all.”

Cullen’s eyes were still shadowed, hooded. Growling, he repeated, “I will not share you, Delani.”

Raising her chin, she spat, “I am not yours to share. I am mine.” Finally her anger had broken through enough to overshadow her desire for him. But it wouldn’t last long. Already her body quivered with need, with desperation, wanting a release that only he would be able to supply her.

Dangerously narrowing her eyes, angry at him for putting her in this position, angrier still for the argument that had led them to this point, Delani shouted, “I expected better from you, Cullen!” before storming out of the infirmary before her untrustworthy body threw itself at him.

Slamming the door shut behind her, Delani marched over to the stables and grumbled the whole way there. She swiped an apple from the barrel as she passed it, went to Cornelius’s stable and gave the hart the treat as offering before entering his stall. Happy that she’d remembered to bring him a treat, the hart gratefully nuzzled her cheek after he’d swallowed the apple whole.

Delani gently pushed his nose out of her face and prepared the brushes that she would use on his pelt. At the moment, her mood was dark and foul, and she needed to relax. Brushing Cornelius always did the trick, but she doubted that the hart would help her forget how badly she’d wanted to ride Cullen as a mount.

She shook the thought from her head. She was mad at him. She was going to continue to be mad at him. Her body could calm down because she was not ready to forgive him for his accusations, and she was not about to give herself over to a man who thought for a second that she could be unfaithful.

Several minutes passed before Delani’s thoughts steadied. Cornelius happily sat through his grooming, enjoying the feel of the brush gliding over him, and the action had a similar effect on her. Stroking him, brushing the hart, had a calming effect on her and helped her to think more clearly. Now that she was no longer angry beyond reason, or mindlessly aroused, she could allow herself to wonder at the origins of Cullen’s jealousy.

What had he seen that had sparked such terrible emotions in him? Solas had tended to her, made sure that the anchor was stable, and then he’d chewed her out like she was stale jerky. All of which had been done in Elvish, a language that Cullen was learning, but not entirely familiar with. They had secluded him from the conversation, kept him outside as though he didn’t matter.

Cullen’s reaction had been far from acceptable, but a part of her did understand. She and Cullen were romantically involved, yet she and Solas were having a private conversation right in front of him in a tongue that he didn’t fully understand. A typically unshakable Cullen had been threatened by Solas, but why? Delani found herself needing to know.

She decided that once she was done brushing Cornelius she would go to Cullen again. They would have a calm, nonsexual, conversation about why he had behaved the way he did, and he was going to explain himself. Afterwards, she would show him how baseless his concerns were.

Cullen was embarrassed. Maker’s breath, he hadn’t the slightest idea of what had come over him. Seated at his desk, elbows on its surface, and face hidden behind interlaced fingers, Cullen winced at the memory of his outlandish behavior.

Seeing Delani with Solas, how close they were, had roused something primal inside of him. He had felt this need to claim what was his, to dissuade all others from even the thought of taking her from him. He had flung out an accusation as though he had any right to do so.

A groan escaped him and Cullen shook his head. What was wrong with him? Delani drove him mad. Sometimes it was all he could do to keep his hands off of her. The shape of her body, and how easily it molded to his, had always been a subject of fantasy for more nights than he dared to recall. He wanted her, there was no denying that, but the way that he had cornered her in the infirmary, how he had crowded her and pinned her to him, it was wrong.

When he and Delani finally made love it would not be in the midst of a heated argument pertaining her faithfulness to him. It would be beautiful and perfect and everything that she deserved. Delani deserved more than a tryst in the infirmary, she deserved more than him. Cullen was ashamed.

The sound of his office door opening pulled him from his thoughts. He looked over his steepled fingers only to have his heart drop into his stomach as though it had been made of iron. Delani stood on the other side of the room, her features no longer hard with anger, no longer flushed with desire. They had both taken some time to think, and now it was time for Cullen to grovel.

“Delani, I—“

She took a sharp step toward him, though kept her tone level when she spoke. “Do you want to tell me what that was about, Cullen?”

“I- I don't know.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. Cullen honestly didn’t know. He had tried to keep a rational mind, but emotion, possessiveness, jealousy, and desire had fogged his head up so thickly that he couldn’t have cut through it with the sharpest of blades.

Cullen shook his head. He knew that they needed to have this conversation, that he needed to explain himself, and he would try as best he could. “Seeing you with him, the way he touched you, the way he looks at you. Solas adores you. And I was blinded by jealousy.”

He held her gaze. He knew that he had no right to ask, but beseeched her anyway. “Please forgive me.”

“Not yet,” she answered with a curt shake of her head. The words were meant to discourage him, but they filled him with hope instead. The situation was not unsalvageable. She’d said ‘not yet’ which meant that soon, and with a lot of effort, Cullen could win back her good graces. He didn’t deserve them, but he wanted them still.

Her features were soft, concerned even, when she stated, “That wasn't like you and I want an explanation.”

“Solas has feelings for you, Delani,” he stated again, but now Cullen felt so much less conviction about it than he had felt before. When he insisted, “Feelings that go beyond simple respect and admiration,” it was to convince himself as much as her. “I suspect that he’s in love with you.”

Delani shook her head, rejecting his words as untrue, and maybe they were. “Solas isn’t in love with me, Cullen,” she maintained, refusing to hear anything to the contrary. “He is my friend. His opinion matters to me, his perspective is invaluable.”

She held his gaze for a beat before her sea green eyes softened with both regret and understanding. A sigh spilled from her and Delani inserted, “But, if our friendship makes you uncomfortable, I will put distance between us. Whether or not Solas’s feelings for me are any deeper than what I believe them to be, I have eyes for only one man and he need not fear them wandering to another.”

If Cullen had not felt the fool before, he was certainly feeling it now. Worse, he felt like an uneducated, ill-mannered vagabond. How undeserving of Delani’s affections he was. How dare he even ask for them after his barbaric display.

“I know,” he sighed, disgusted with himself. “Maker’s breath, I know.” How could he have ever questioned her loyalty? She had done nothing to deserve his mistrust, and now it was time to confess to both her and himself what was the root of the problem.

“Distance between you and Solas is unnecessary. He is your friend and an important one at that.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Cullen avoided her gaze for a moment as he admitted, “If I am being honest, losing you to him is not what makes me weary.”

She closed the distance between her and his desk, her expression open, welcoming, warm. She wanted to listen, she wanted to hear his explanation. Delani wanted to understand, and only he could give her enlightenment . “Then what is it,” she asked. “Help me understand what is going on in that wonderful head of yours.”

“It’s...” he hesitated but forced himself to finish. “It’s the fact that I’m human.”

Her head tilted to the side and the question in her expression never made it out of her mouth.

Hurriedly, Cullen explained, “Being an elf, and having the abilities that he has, he is a better match for you. He can understand you in areas that I can only sympathize. He knows your traditions and understands your heritage, and your people would look on the pairing with favor. The same cannot be said about me.”

“Oh, Cullen,” Delani cooed, rounding his desk until she had managed to nestle herself between his legs and was leaning on the desk's surface. Placing a hand on his breastplate, Delani held his gaze with gentle green eyes and wondered, “Vhenan’ara, what do I care for any of that?”

His heart started soaring with her words. Did she truly not care? Did none of that really matter to her? Delani was so proud of being an elf, she was so wrapped up in preserving the ways of her people, Cullen had always assumed that she would rather be with a male of her own kind. She would have a better future with an elf than she would with him, especially if she intended to return to her people after everything was said and done. Cullen had feared that beyond reason, had dreaded that one day he would not be enough for her. With her question she admitted that as much as she loved her people, her own desires would not come second to them, and Cullen was her heart’s desire.

Still a measure of doubt lingered inside of him. “Right now, I suppose you don’t care at all,” he said reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand. She was beautiful, so heartbreakingly beautiful, how could he ever be worthy of her? Nervously grinding his teeth, Cullen quietly stated, “But later…” and let the sentence hang between them.

“Later,” she said, picking up his sentence where he had left it. “I will only want you.” Delani gently grabbed him by the ears and made him hold her gaze. Sternly, unwaveringly, without even a shred of doubt she admitted, “I will only ever want you,” and pulled herself to his lips.

Cullen welcomed the soft feeling of her mouth against his. The kiss was featherlight at first, tentative, reacclimatizing after a turbulent afternoon. The gentle touches and light caresses did not last long, however. After a moment a familiar hunger started to rumble inside of him, a carnal need that only Delani could quench. When her tongue skated across his bottom lip, Cullen opened his mouth to her and welcomed her with a groan.

She swallowed the sound and responded in like. The taste of her was in his mouth, her smell in his nose, and Cullen felt a scalding heat start to burn off of her. She was so warm, and he wanted to touch her all over. With his hands on her waist, he fought the urge to pull her into his lap, to force her to straddle him so that she could feel his awakened desire against her.

When Delani pulled away from him a complaint started to form, only to die in his throat at the sight of what lay hidden in her lust shadowed eyes. There were plots unfolding behind those sea green irises, plans being put together that had Cullen standing center stage.

With her hand on his chest, she was supporting her weight on him as she stared into his eyes. A foxy simper spread over her kiss swollen lips and Cullen swallowed hard at the sight of it. “I will only ever want you,” she repeated, her voice thick and smoky and Cullen felt it in his groin. Quirking an eyebrow she asked, “Would you like me to show you, vhenan’ara?”

She started to nod and Cullen found his head bobbing up and down in unison. Her smile grew and Delani pressed her mouth against his again. Before Cullen could lose himself to the kiss she moved her lips to his jaw. She worked her way down to his neck and, once there, scraped her teeth over the curve of his throat in a way that sent a bolt of electricity right down his spine.

Delani didn’t stay at his neck for long. A exhale poured out of him when she freed him from the sensation, even as he longed after it. She kissed the base of his neck, before sliding down his body until she was settled between his legs. Cullen only fully realized her intentions when she started to undo the laces that held his pants together.

Shock belted through him, sobering him to what was about to transpire. Even as he felt a near painful twitch in his pants, he held Delani by the wrist to stop her from unlacing him further. When he opened his mouth to speak it took a few tries to regain use of his tongue. “D-Delani, you don’t have—“

She brushed his hand off of her wrist with a semi-grateful, mostly impatient, smile. “I want you, Cullen,” she said again, this time using the word in regards to what awaited her once those laces were undone. “I will only ever want you. Let me show you.”

Delani didn’t go back to untying his pants again. Instead she stayed kneeled between his spread legs, her hands on his thighs, her gaze holding his as she waited. She was waiting for his permission, he realized. Since he had stopped her once, she would only proceed after he’d told her that she could. The gesture was surprisingly important to him.

His nod was stiff, but his consent was clear. Nervousness filled him. It had been so long since he’d been been touched in such a way by a woman, Cullen feared that he would not last. Never before had he cared about anyone the way that he cared about Delani, never before had the simple act meant so much to him. Just the sight of her stooped between his legs, unknotting his trousers, reaching for his arousal, it was almost enough to undo him right then and there.

When her skin made contact with his, a hiss pulled out of him. She was so warm, so wickedly warm, he wanted to feel that heat all over. Delani tugged at his pants, and Cullen sat up in his chair, helping her to wiggle the fabric down some so that she could better access him. Once she was satisfied that there were no more obstacles in her way, she pulled down the front of his trousers and his arousal sprang free with flourish.

Delani stared at his endowment for a moment, wide eyed, before licking her lips and reaching for his girth. Her delicate fingers wrapped around his base and Cullen threw his head back with a moan. If he reacted so intensely from just a touch, there was no doubt in his mind that he would not last a second in the heat of her mouth.

She pumped him once and he groaned again. Maker, that felt good. An eager smile was on her lips and she flashed her wicked grin up at him before taking him into her mouth. Cullen tightly gripped the armrests of his chair to keep himself from moaning too loudly. The heat of Delani’s mouth was volcanic, so intense that all Cullen could see for a moment was stars.

With only the tip of his member between her lips, Delani stared up at him, innocently batting her eyes as though she would never have guessed that his reaction had been because of her. Smiling to herself, she returned to her task, pumping Cullen’s length while bobbing up and down on his tip. With each downward bob she took more of him in, keeping pace with the stroke of her had until he felt himself at the back of her throat.

Cullen bucked, the sensation too much, he couldn’t handle it. He wasn’t going to make it. His breaths were heavy, desperate. Delani had stilled with him sheathed entirely in her mouth, and her immobility was driving him mad. Tearing his hands from where they were fiercely gripping the chair’s armrests, he wove his fingers through Delani’s hair and gently urged her back into motion.

She laughed, the rumble vibrating against him and another groan escaped him. What was she doing to him? He couldn’t begin to understand how she was able to make him feel this way. Complying to the pleas of his hands, Delani started to move on his manhood again. Her tongue scraped along the base of his member until she was at the tip again, where she would twirl her tongue over his head before taking him to his entirety all over again.

He felt the heat pooling in his groin, hot like melted steel just waiting to be poured into its mold. There was a tingling in the base of his spine, the only warning that he would receive. As Delani continued her torturous rhythm on his member, taking in all of him before pulling back out, only for him to feel himself hitting the back of her throat all over again, Cullen felt himself inch nearer and nearer to to the edge.

Delani suctioned her mouth around his arousal and that was what finally broke him. With his fingers still in her hair, his hips arched, pushing himself deeper down her throat as his seed burst out of him in the most toe-curling ache of pleasure-pain he had ever felt in his entire life. As soon as the last of his orgasm pulsed from him, Cullen slumped in his seat and felt a satisfied sigh expel from his lungs.

Careful with his hypersensitive member, Delani tucked him back into his trousers and tied the laces back up. Once again he was covered up, as though nothing incredible, mind blowing, absolutely indescribable had just happened between them. She stood up between his legs, a smile on her red and swollen lips.

Leaning forward until her mouth was beside his ear, Delani whispered, “It is you who are mine,” before pressing a kiss to his cheek. She stood back up and stepped out from between his legs.

Heading for the door, she threw a sultry look over her shoulder back at him, branding him with her gaze as sure as she had with her mouth. Delani left his office without saying anything further, without so much as a goodbye, and all he could do was stare after her as she shut the door behind her.

Cullen felt like he was caught in a daze. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in… he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this relaxed. He stared at the door that Delani had exited from and a dreamy exhale spilled through his nose. Cullen truly was Delani’s, through and through, for the rest of time. He did not deserve her, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

Delani had shown him that she wanted him, only him. Now it was time that he show her the same. He would never want another, and Cullen was determined to show Delani that she was all that he would ever need for the rest of his days. It was time to start planning.

Chapter Text

Cullen picked the carved halla up off of his desk and inspected it closely. The detail that went into the figure was breathtaking. The halla was posed as though listening for danger, one ear swiveled back and a leg bent with only the tip of its hoof keeping it balanced. Its horns and hide had elegant swooping and spiraling designs carved into it. The wood that Delani had used to carve it from was birch, which gave the statuette a remarkable pale coloring. There were some sharp edges, places that should have probably been sanded down, but Cullen felt as though the rough edges gave the figure more character. It was strong, noble, beautiful and unique; just like the woman who had made it for him.

Sighing through his nose, he fought down a fit of nerves that threatened to consume him whole. Preparations were all but finalized, all that was left was for Delani to come visit him. He knew she would, the woman enjoyed little else the way she enjoyed making sure that Cullen got nothing done. It was only a matter of time before she kicked down his door and demanded his attention, all Cullen had to do was wait, and waiting was the hardest part.

Everything had to go perfectly. He needed for every last one of the details to play out flawlessly, because that was what Delani deserved. She deserved to be surprised and romanced, and she deserved some time away from the stresses of command. It was his duty to the woman to make sure that she got all of those things.

One of the doors to his office was kicked open and in rushed a hurricane of auburn hair. The smile that unearthed at Delani’s unannounced visitation was involuntary and automatic. There was a delighted grin on her lips, excitement in her sea green eyes, and an infectious rambunctiousness about her that helped to ease Cullen’s nerves.

Cullen set the halla statuette back down on his desk as she closed the distance between them. Before he could open his mouth to speak, she cut him off with an animated, “Cole just found the most handsome cat in the entirety of Thedas.” Propping her rear up on the corner of his desk, Delani explained, “He has this thick and fluffy cream colored coat. And right under his cute little black nose is a mustache that could put Dorian’s to shame.”

When she noticed him arch an eyebrow in doubt, Delani lifted her left hand and swore, “On my honor as a Dalish hunter, I swear to the Creators that this cat’s mustache is a thing of legend.”

A light hearted laugh burst out of Cullen. Delani could be utterly ridiculous sometimes, and there were no words to describe how much he enjoyed that aspect of her personality. Nodding that he conceded, Cullen assured her, “I believe you.”

“Good.” Grinning up at him, Delani said, “Now I need you to help me name him. I can’t decide between Purrian or Doricat.”

The fact that they were even having this conversation pulled another laugh out of him. Shaking his head, Cullen grinned at Delani and just took in the sight of her. She was a creature of beauty. Her bronzy complexion had gorgeous warm undertones, making it seem like she glowed from the inside out. The crimson color of her vallaslin almost blended in with her skin tone, distracting the eye from the light dusting of freckles that covered her cheeks and nose. Her auburn hair had grown since they’d first met those many months ago. Now the beautiful strands fell in waves past her shoulders, begging for him to comb his fingers through them. She was a goddess of war and of beauty, and Cullen wished to worship her in every way imaginable.

At the moment, the best way to show his adoration was to play along with her whimsical behavior. Cullen was more than happy to comply. “A cat as regal as the beast that you have just described to me deserves two names. Why not Doricat Purrvus?”

Jaw dropping with amazement, Delani breathlessly admitted, “That’s perfect.” Pushing herself off of his desk with the statement, “I have to go tell Cole that we’ve come up with a better name than ‘cat,’” she started for the still open door.

Before she could leave, Cullen gently grabbed Delani by the wrist and stopped her in her tracks. Nervousness reappeared in his gut. The moment was upon him and he hoped that Delani was willing to go along with him, as he had done with her. She turned to face him, curiosity in her features as she looked up from his hand on her wrist to meet his gaze. At the sight of his apprehension, Delani frowned, all amusement left her features and was swiftly replaced with concern.

“Is everything alright, Cullen,” she wondered, taking a step closer to him and placing her hand on his bicep. She was inspecting him closely, searching his features for any sign of illness or injury. She placed the back of her hand on his brow and, upon discovering that he didn’t have a temperature, caressed the side of his face as she held his gaze. When the only thing Delani found was discomfort, she asked, “Is something troubling you?”

“No.” Cullen took her hand and brushed a kiss on her knuckles. Without releasing her fingers from his grasp, he lowered their hands between them, and swallowed a deep steeling breath. “We have some dealings in Ferelden. I was hoping that you would accompany me.” Quickly he added, “When you can spare the time, of course,” in case she needed a way to politely decline his request.

Brows still furrowed with concern, she reiterated her earlier question. “Is something wrong?”

“What?” he asked, despite himself. How could there be anything wrong while being in her company? “No,” Cullen assured her, allowing a soft smile to pull at the corner of his mouth. Still nervous about what her answer would be, Cullen rushed out, “I would rather explain there, if you wish to go.”

Delani quirked an eyebrow and her eyes narrowed suspiciously, but a smirk hinted at the edges of her mouth. In the end her curiosity won over whatever else she might have been feeling. Releasing a slow breath, she nodded once and said, “I believe there’s time now.”

Relief washed over him like a wave of cool water. He knew that Delani’s sense of adventure had been a dominant reason as to why she had agreed so easily. Cullen had banked on it influencing her decision. The fact that he knew her so well was a surprise even to himself. “The necessary arrangements have already been made. We can leave whenever you are ready.”

Eyebrows rising with surprise, suspicion quickly found its way back onto her features, and amusement shone bright in her green eyes. Pursing her lips,  Delani wondered, “How long will we be gone?”

“Two days,” he answered. “Three at the most.”

“Will I need my armor?”

A smirk twisted his lips at the hopeful ring in her tone. She was always looking for a fight. Unfortunately, that was not what Cullen had in mind. Shaking his head, he answered, “No, armor will not be necessary.”

Her face scrunched up with disappointment before she smiled up at him. “Allow me to grab a change of clothes and I will be ready to go.”

Cullen tucked his index finger under her jaw and tilted her face up toward his. Angling his face down, he whispered, “Meet me at the stables when you’re ready,” and pressed a kiss to her lips.

It was meant to be a quick kiss, chaste, but the second that his lips met hers he wanted more. Delani wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself to his chest. With her fingers in his hair, she claimed his mouth as hers, tongue demanding entry. Cullen obliged with a muffled groan. His hands were splayed on her back, arching her into him, pressing her against him, seeking out her heat as though it was life.

Her hands slid from his hair, down the back of his neck, until she was gripping him by the front of his cloak. Without parting her lips from his, Delani tugged him toward her as she sat atop his desk. With her legs spread wide she guided him to stand between them, her grip roving over his chest, around his waist, all the way to his back so that she could pull his body against hers.

Heart beat drumming loudly in his ears, Cullen’s entire body felt as though it were suddenly on fire. The effects of his arousal was already tight in his trousers, and Delani moaned at the feeling of him pressed against her pelvis. How badly he wanted to tear open her tunic and rip down her pants. How badly he wanted to touch her all over, to alleviate this tension that always amassed between them. The desire to know her, to really know her, had long since evolved from simple want. It was now a need that he could not continue to ignore. It was a need that, evidently, they shared, and Cullen had little intention of making either of them wait any longer than necessary. Their relationship was ready for this, she was ready for him, just not like this.

Remembering that the door to his office was still wide open helped to clear the fog that had started to settle in his mind. Cullen broke his lips away from hers and took a half step backwards in retreat, hoping that some distance between them would help stifle the fire that was quickly spreading just under his surface.

Delani pouted at the space he had forced between them. When she reached for him, she grabbed him again by the front of his cloak but made no attempt to return him to her arms; respecting that he’d needed the space in order to think clearly. After a second her pout gave way to a mischievous smile and she mused, “I suppose I should go gather my things.”

“Yes,” Cullen agreed and he softly returned her smile. Andraste preserve him, if he wasn’t careful he would disregard his plans and just give into both of their desires right then and there. Clearing his throat, he finished, “You should go do that.”

She slid off of his desk, grinning up at him and the blush burning his cheeks. He knew that she adored the effect that she had on him, and she frivolously abused her powers. When she pulled herself up to his lips again it was to meet his lips with a peck, anything more than that and they would be right back where they’d started.

Releasing her hold on his cloak, Delani rounded his desk and started for the door. “One of these days you aren’t going to be able to resist me so easily, Cullen,” she stated as she left his office.

Cullen watched her close the door behind her and had to shake away the disbelief. Did she honestly think that denying his carnal desires for her was easy? If she had any idea whatsoever how difficult it actually was to pull away from her, to not allow things to escalate any further than they already had, she would never stop in her advances.

He combed his fingers through the thickness of his hair and scratched his scruff covered chin. If this trip went as perfectly as he needed it to, Delani would no longer have to worry herself with him ‘resisting’ her. He wanted her, he needed her, and he would show her that his desire for her stemmed from more than flesh. Cullen’s feelings for her were devastating, they were maddening, and he hoped that she more than just understood; Cullen hoped that she felt the same.

When his heart rate had finally settled back down to a steady beat, Cullen left his office and headed for the stables. With Dennett’s help, Cullen was able to get Cornelius and Delilah ready to travel. He left the task of preparing the hart to the Horse Master, knowing that the stag didn’t particularly care for Cullen. If he had to guess as to why, Cullen supposed it had something to do with another male having Delani’s affections. Cornelius didn’t like to share; at least they had that in common.

By the time their mounts were ready Delani had found her way to the stables, dressed to travel and with a pack on her shoulders. She thanked Dennett for preparing Cornelius for her. She rounded the hart only to find Cullen standing beside Cornelius waiting to help her onto the beast. He knew that she didn’t need his help, he had seen her effortlessly climb atop Cornelius countless times before. Still, when he offered her his hand, he was grateful that she accepted his assistance and allowed him to hoist her up onto the hart’s back.

When Cullen cut in front of Cornelius in order to get to his mare, the stag irritably nipped at Cullen for daring to touch Delani in his presence. “Now, now, Cornelius,” she scolded him for his assault, though her laugh betrayed her amusement. “You are going to behave yourself. Got it?” The stag made a discontented noise and shook himself out.

Pulling himself onto Delilah’s back, Cullen observed, “I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“Oh, don’t mind him,” she advised before giving the mount a rough pat on the side of the neck. Smiling at Cullen, Delani explained, “He’s just over protective, possessive, and jealous.” Eyes playfully narrowing, a goading sideways smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she winked at him and teased, “I suppose I attract a type. Don’t I, Commander?” before gently nudging Cornelius with her heels and starting for the gate.

Blood rushed to his cheeks, ears, and neck with her observation. She’d said it as a jest but a part of him had taken it as a reprimand, still ashamed of his behavior. What had happened afterwards had only solidified of those sentiments of over protectiveness and possessiveness. Though he wouldn’t likely feel jealousy like that ever again, he wanted to keep Delani safe, and he wanted to keep her his. That was not likely to change.

Instructing Delilah to follow after the Inquisitor and her hart, Cullen was quickly returned to his place at Delani’s side. The rhythmic clatter of hooves against stone was the only sound to pass between them for a little while. He gave Delani a sidelong glance and a smile unearthed on his lips. Her eyes were shut as she basked in the daylight, she was a flower in full bloom, breathtaking.

After a deep breath she reopened her eyes and met Cullen’s gaze. Smile growing with contentment, Delani finally gave into her curiosity and wondered, “Where are we going?”

“South,” he answered vaguely, wanting to keep his plans a surprise.

Delani’s beautiful features twisted with distaste before she sighed and shook her head. Adjusting her grip on Cornelius’s reins, she started, “Do you remember when I was first named Inquisitor?”

Brows furrowing with confusion and curiosity, Cullen replied, “Of course,” as he wondered at the origins of her question.

“I asked a favor of you that day,” she reminded him, mischief in her green eyes. “Do you recall what it was?”

His smile grew as he remembered exactly what it was she was referring to. “You requested that the next time that I, or any of your advisors, make a life altering decision in your behest, that I run in by you first.” His grin grew. Delani truly did not like surprises.

Nodding that he remembered correctly, she demanded, “Well?”

“Well,” Cullen returned, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. “I remember informing you that I would take your request under advisement.” Delani’s eyes narrowed and he finished with a chuckle, “I made no promises to fulfill it.”

Pout returning to her lips, Delani threw her head back and whined, “Please, Cullen, don’t walk me into this blindly.” When she looked back at him her expression was so pathetically pleading he had to bite back his laughter. “Ma nadas dirthar, vhenan’ara.”

He took a moment to work out her words. Ma meant ‘you’ in this context, and he knew that dirth meant ‘tell’ or ‘speak,’ with the addition of ar it translated to ‘tell me.’ But he couldn’t remember what nadas meant. Even so, it was enough for him to infer her meaning. She was asking him to tell her where they were going in every language she knew. She was so desperate for information she didn’t care if it would ruin the surprise, and Cullen found himself unable to deny her.

Expelling a heavy breath, he conceded with an amused, “Ma nuvenin, ma atishan.” He chuckled at the sight of her grinning happily at finally getting her way. With a shake of his head, Cullen revealed the purpose of them leaving Skyhold. “Now that you’ve cleared up that mess with the mages and Templars in the Hinterlands the roads are safer to travel. That being said, my family is visiting Redcliffe for a little while, and I may not get another chance like this one until this business with Corypheus is said and done.”

He watched as Delani’s features shifted with concern and apprehension. Gnawing on her bottom lip, when she asked her first question he knew it wasn’t the one she’d wanted to ask. “What are they doing in Redcliffe?”

“My youngest sister, Rosalie, is being courted by a young knight who has pledged his services to Arl Teagan,” explained Cullen as he tried to remember the details of the letter that Mia had sent him. “My mother has allowed her to visit him to ensure that his interest in Rosalie still stands.” He shook his head at the thought of his mother’s antics. Her desire to see her children properly wed and cared for sometimes verged on overbearing.

Still chewing on her bottom lip, Delani ventured, “So when you say, ‘may not get another chance like this one’…” and waited for him to answer her unasked question.

Quirking his eyebrow as though the answer were obvious, he supplied, “I mean another chance for you to meet my family.”

Delani cringed internally. He wanted her to meet his family. He wanted her to meet his family. She knew that Cullen cared about her, that he saw her for more than her pointed ears and the blood writing on her face. Delani also knew that not everyone was like Cullen. To most she was still a savage, and she feared that was what his family would think of her when they saw her.

Pensively chewing on the inside of her cheek, she gave him a measured look as they continued on their journey. There was a hopeful glint in Cullen’s golden eyes. Irises of honey regarded her tentatively, expectantly, waiting for her to react or to say something, but Delani didn’t know what to say; she didn’t know how to react. With a look alone she could plainly see how important this was to Cullen, how much thought and preparation he had put into this. He wanted her to meet the most important people in his life. She couldn’t possibly deny him that.

She had her trepidations, but this meant too much to Cullen for her to fight him now. They were already on the road that would lead them south, she was already in it. However, there was no possible way that she was going to go into this blindly.

“Tell me about your family,” she asked with a sigh. A grin expanded over Cullen’s features, the corners of his eyes crinkling with satisfaction, and Delani’s smile didn’t feel as forced as she thought it would be when she returned it.

Cullen actually proved to be the worst source of information about his family. He wasn’t nearly as informed as she needed him to be. Many of her questions were answered with a lame, “I don’t know for sure, it has been some time since we’ve last spoken.” How was Delani supposed to prepare for this inevitable meeting when her only source of intel was unreliable?

The first half of their journey was spent with Delani rattling off question after question and Cullen trying his best to answer them all. She hadn’t learned nearly as much as she had hoped to, but more than either of them had expected. From the few details that Cullen was able to provide, she had learned that Mia’s husband’s name was Gideon. They had two boys named Asher and Grayson, neither of which was a day older than five. At twenty years old Rosalie was the baby of the family. Cullen’s brother, Branson, was the second youngest at twenty-eight.

Three years after the Grey Warden Alistair was crowned King of Ferelden, Branson had managed to climb his way into the King’s Guard. It was a position of prestige, and the family was extremely proud of him for it. Gideon, Mia’s husband, was a highly sought after blacksmith. And Mia herself was a seamstress. His family didn’t come from money, but they had done well for themselves.

Unsurprisingly, learning more about his family did not help to ease her nerves. They all sounded like wonderful people, and if they shared the same blood as Cullen then they probably were wonderful, but doubt and uncertainty still lingered. While listening to him talk about his siblings Delani took the time to fortify her emotional defenses.

She hoped to the Creators that she would not need them, that his family would love her just like he claimed that they would, but she had to be prepared for the worst. Delani needed to be ready for them to hate her, to reject her, she even needed to be prepared for them to react violently toward her. It wouldn’t be the first time that she’d invoked such a reaction, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Delani just hoped that it didn’t come to that.

The following few hours were spent reviewing what Elvish he knew, and teaching him some more. Cullen had retained a great deal more than she had expected him to and, after repetition, correction, and more repetition, the words were starting to not sound so awkward in his mouth. His accent was heavy, but the words were clear and his meaning apparent.

There was no way that Cullen could fully comprehend how much him learning her native tongue meant to her. His continued effort not only warmed her heart, but also served to remind her that he would do anything for her. He hadn’t asked her for anything in return, except for this; meeting his family. It was important to him because they were important to him. And Delani would do everything within her power to show them that she was someone worthy of Cullen’s affections.

Due to Delani’s instance they stopped for lunch in a field of wild flowers. While Cullen ate, she worked to make gifts for the women of his family. She didn’t have an appetite, and her growing nervousness must have shown in the crinkle of her brow as she worked the flowers into a crown, because he kept reassuring her that everyone would love her and that she had nothing to worry about. His words helped to calm her, but not much. Delani just wanted to get the worst of it over with. The sooner they reached Redcliffe the sooner she’d know if she was going to be as well received as he insisted she would be.

Once they were moving again they didn’t stop until they were in the Hinterlands, heading toward Redcliffe, where his family was taking up temporary residence at the inn. Delani had already chewed every last one of her fingernails clean off. She was getting antsy, fidgety, and her heart was pounding loudly in her ears by the time that they passed through Redcliffe’s gates. She would take fighting waves of demons over this level of anxiety any day of the week.

Finally the inn came into view. After dismounting, they guided Cornelius and Delilah to the stables around the back. They made sure that their mounts were comfortable before leaving them in the stables and heading back toward the inn’s entrance. Noticing the stiffness to Delani’s shoulders, and the tension tightening her features and posture, Cullen placed a gentle hand on the small of her back.

He offered her a soft smile and repeated for the thousandth time that day. “Don’t worry, they’re going to love you.”

Not wanting to argue with him, Delani simply returned his smile as best she could and nodded. Taking in and releasing one deep breath after the other, she coaxed the tension to leave her shoulders and her heart rate down from a sprint to a steady race. She thumbed over the hilt of her carving knife, comforted by its continual presence on her hip. When they entered the inn she pried her fingers from the knife, not wanting for anyone to get the wrong idea or feel threatened.

Once they were inside he instructed her to wait for him to go pay for their rooms. Delani gave the inn a thorough once over. Having already been inside before, when she’d come with Dorian to confront his father, she was familiar with the layout. She knew where the escape routes were, and that knowledge only served to tempt her to make a break for it. Delani stood fast. She could do this. For Cullen, she could make it through this.

Her attention was swept up by the sound of a woman calling for Cullen, “Cullen Stanton Rutherford, is that you?” A woman who appeared to be in her mid to late thirties, with a halo of golden hair and a warm mien about her, descended from the stairway and ran toward the Commander.

Cullen turned from his conversation with the innkeeper and faced the woman charging him down. A grin larger than any Delani had ever seen him wear conquered his features. Spreading his arms, he greeted the woman with an excited, “Mia!”

His sister threw herself into his arms and Cullen spun with her once before setting her back down on her feet. Holding her by the shoulders, he gave his sister a close inspection before he said in a breath of relief and contentment, “You look well.”

Delani’s heart was beating too loudly in her ears for her to catch what Mia had said in reply. She noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye and immediately her gaze darted to the three more blonds that were descending the inn’s stairwell. It was the rest of Cullen’s family, she assumed, coming to join in on the reunion. Her attention was snapped back to Cullen as he guided his sister over to Delani and, instead of listening to the insistent voice nagging at her to take flight, she forced a smile onto her face.

Guiding his sister toward Delani, Cullen grinned from one woman to the next as he started his introductions. “Mia, I’d like you to meet the leader of the Inquisition, and the Herald of Andraste, Lady Lavellan.”

“My Lady,” he said to Delani, offering her a reassuring smile. “This is my eldest sister, Mia.”

Mia was squeezing Cullen’s arm tightly, her features wide with amazement. While a second of tense silence lingered between them, Delani took advantage of the moment to take Mia in. She was several inches taller than Delani, standing as tall as Cullen’s temple when Delani only came up to the center of his chest. She was beautiful, sharing many of the same characteristics as Cullen. Her blonde hair was lighter than her brother’s, appearing to have more of a sun kissed sandy color than the gold of Cullen’s mane. Mia’s hair cascaded down her shoulders in soft curls, silky ringlets framing her elegant face, and pulling the attention of everyone in the room.

She had an oval shaped face, almond shaped eyes with irises the color of polished cherry wood, her lips were thin and pouty, and she had beautiful alabaster skin. Her features were creased by a lifetime spent laughing. Mia had a warmth about her, a kindness that helped to ease Delani’s nervousness. She offered Delani a pleasant grin, excitement sparkling in her warm brown eyes.

To Cullen she exclaimed, “When you said that you and the Inquisitor had dealings in Ferelden I hardly expected you to actually bring her to meet us!” She then turned her attention to Delani and her smile grew, her excitement spilled onto her features. “This is so exciting! It’s an honor to meet you, Your Worship.”

Delani smiled politely at Mia, and said, “Please, Mia, call me Delani,” hoping that she was better with informalities than Cullen was.

Before another word could pass between them, a soft and gentle voice called for Cullen. “Cullen!” Delani took a step back as the young blond ran across the inn and jumped into her brother’s arms.

Squeezing his sister tightly, Cullen buried his face in her hair. There was a grin in his voice when he exhaled, “Rosalie,” and set her back onto her feet. Smiling adoringly at his baby sister, he observed, “You’ve grown since I’ve last seen you.”

Irately poking his chest, Rosalie returned, “Well, if you made more of an effort to see us this wouldn’t come as such of a surprise to you.” The small smile on her lips revealed that she was only mostly teasing.

A berated blush started to pink Cullen’s cheeks before he moved his attention to the young man that could have been his twin. “Bran,” he pulled his brother into an embrace, forcefully patting his back as the younger man squeezed him tightly.

When the brothers released each other, Cullen moved to greet the last one in their circle. The shortest of Cullen’s family members was still taller than Delani. Cullen’s mother was a homely looking woman, warm and kind with a shine of maternal adoration in her brown eyes. She had the same blonde hair as her children, threaded with silver and strands of white.

“Mother,” Cullen brushed a soft kiss on his mother’s brow before gently enveloping her in his arms, as if he were afraid to break her. When his mother’s arms wrapped around his waist, Delani could see the force with which she was hugging her son. They had all missed him so dearly. The sight of them together was heart warming, and made Delani think of seeing her clan again. Seeing Cullen with his mother made her miss hers but, for now, she was happy to witness Cullen be together with his family again.

When they separated Cullen reintroduced Delani to all of them and, the moment that the introductions were over, the questions started raining down.

“Is it true that you can close rifts?”

“Can I see the mark on your hand?”

“Is it true that it might end up killing you?”

“What do those tattoos on your face mean?”

“Do you have tattoos anywhere else?”

“Bran!”

“What, Cullen? It’s a legitimate question!”

“There’s this rumor floating around that you walked through the Fade. Well did you?”

“Did you meet Andraste? What was she like?”

“You are so thin! Cullen, you need to make sure that the Inquisitor is eating!”

“You’re Dalish aren’t you? Is it true that your people kidnap children and make blood sacrifices to your gods?”

Horror drained the color from Cullen’s face. “Rosalie,” he reprimanded his youngest sister who simply shrugged in response to her brother’s ire, completely unfazed by a look Delani had seen countless soldiers wilt away from.

“Cullen,” she returned just as bitingly. Giving Delani an inquisitive once over, she admitted, “I’m just curious.”

Smiling at the young woman, Delani nervously tucked her hair behind an ear with her free hand. Her other hand was currently being held by Mia, who was inspecting the anchor closely with Branson leaning over beside her. To Rosalie, Delani assured her, “We only do that during the blood moon.”

They all gasped and Cullen hurried to reassure them, “Maker’s breath, she’s joking. Tell them you’re joking.”

Anxiety made her fidgety, and Delani had no control of her mouth when she rebuked with a dry, “I never joke about the blood moon, Commander. You know that.”

He gave her a stern look, but there was no hiding the amusement in his eyes. “My Lady,” he chastised her with a shake of head. He placed his hand on the small of Delani’s back and smiled down at her. “I would appreciate it if you would refrain from scaring my family.”

Offering Cullen a half smile, Delani replied, “I’ll take it under advisement, Commander, but I make no promises.”

Surprised that he would be so bold in front of his family, Delani searched all of their faces and was relieved to find that none of them seemed to notice, or perhaps they simply didn’t mind, all except his mother; who just so happened to be glaring at the sight of the contact.

Mouth twisting into a sneer, Cullen’s mother observed, “You’re not wearing any shoes.”

Her heart fell in her chest. Delani looked down at her feet and wiggled her toes. Horrified with herself for not having the sense to wear boots. While spending her leisure time around Skyhold, she always did it barefoot. The only time that Delani ever really bothered to wear her boots was when she knew to expect to find herself in a combat situation. Cullen had advised her that armor wasn’t going to be necessary, and so she’d disregarded concerning herself with footwear completely. She was an idiot. Shemlan wore shoes all the time, anything else was strange and unwelcome.

“I- uhm- well… I didn’t think-“ she chewed on her lip as she looked around at her human audience. Panic started to spread through her. Barely met for ten minutes and already this was not going well. Hoping to distract everyone from the discomfort radiating from her, Delani announced, “I have something for you,” before turning her attention to Mia and Rosalie. “All three of you.”

Swinging her pack around to her front, Delani removed the flower crowns she had carefully stored inside. She was relieved to find that none of the flowers had been damaged by their travels, and all the petals were still in place. She handed them to Mia and Rosalie, who immediately fawned over their gifts. When Delani offered Cullen’s mother the last crown, the woman raised her hand to decline.

Saving Delani from further humiliation, Branson motioned for the crown with a grin. “Well if she doesn’t want it, I’ll take it.” He eagerly took the flower crown from Delani and placed it on his head. Looking around at the circle that consisted predominantly of women, Branson confessed, “I’ve never felt more beautiful in my entire life.”

There was a laugh in Cullen’s voice when he stated, “You have not changed a single bit.”

To his eldest sister, Cullen asked, “Where are Gideon and the boys?”

“They stayed in South Reach with papa,” Mia answered, smiling warmly at her brother. She was fiddling with the flower crown on her head, touching the petals with gentle fascination. “Gideon was commissioned to make a suit of armor and couldn’t be pulled away. So it’s only us girls, and Bran.”

Branson, who was adjusting how Rosalie crown sat on her head, inserted, “Thank you for not including me in that generalization.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Bran,” Rosalie said, grinning up at her older brother. “You should embrace your feminine side, it looks so good on you,” before sticking out her tongue.

Stepping up behind Delani, Cullen started pull on the straps of her backpack as he said, “I’ll go drop our belongings off in our rooms.” When Delani shrugged off her pack and allowed Cullen to take hold of it, he nodded toward an empty table and said, “Why don’t you all take a seat and get to know one another?”

“What a great idea!” Mia said, hooking her arm through Delani’s and pulling her toward the table. “I have so much to ask you about the Inquisition. Cullen tells me nothing.”

Delani threw a pleading glance at Cullen, but he simply smiled as he abandoned her to her fate. She was tugged over the table and plopped down with a sigh. Half a second later Cullen’s family joined her, all except for his mother; who lingered back, regarding Delani with a look that greatly resembled distaste.

Before Delani could dwell on what that expression meant, Mia stole her attention with another question; it would be the first of many. “I heard that the Hero of Ferelden was Dalish. Did you two know each other?”

The afternoon pressed on like that for some time. Cullen’s family had so many questions, and Delani did her best to answer them all. When Cullen finally found his way back to the table, they redirected their interrogation from Delani onto Cullen; giving her a short reprieve before they decided to bombard her with more questions.

From his seat beside hers, Cullen would occasionally reach out and touch Delani. The contact was brief, but it was warm and constant. The feeling of his hand on her arm, brushing her shoulder, his knee knocking against hers should have helped to ease her nerves, but the look that his mother gave her darkened with each touch.

When Cullen gently brushed his fingers over Delani’s shoulder again, his mother’s eyes narrowed to daggers and she interrupted the table’s ongoing conversation to ask, “Since the Inquisition is a Chantry military operation at its core, is it safe to assume that you’ve converted to Andrastianism?”

Delani’s eyes widened. She glanced up at Cullen but he appeared to be just as surprised by the question as she was. His siblings also looked surprised, but no one said anything about the question, just simply waited to hear her answer. Clearing her throat, Delani fidgeted in her seat and considered how best to answer that question.

“No,” she started, knowing that the ice she was treading on was extremely thin. Religion was a topic she typically avoided at all costs, but Cullen’s mother did not seem the type to give up. She was careful to maintain a respectful tone as she finished, “I have not converted.”

“So you remain a pagan,” she snipped, her tone distrustful and disgusted, “a heretic?”

“Mother—“ Cullen started, only to be cut off by Delani gently grabbing a hold of his arm.

She offered him a reassuring smile before returning her attention to his mother. “Lady Rutherford, I don’t feel that the whole of Thedas minds which religion I fall under when there is so much more to concern ourselves with.”

“The whole of Thedas might not, but I do,” she retorted before looking at Cullen and adding. “My son should.” Before he could say anything to stop his mother from pursuing the conversation further, Lady Rutherford continued with her argument. “How can you allow yourself to be called the Herald of Andraste when you shame the very title? You are meant to serve the bride of the one true god, and yet you worship false idols.”

Delani blinked several times, surprised by the venom in the older woman’s tone. Lady Rutherford really didn’t like her. She’d thought that she had prepared herself for such a reaction but, as it turned out, there was no preparing for this level of rejection.

“I never wanted the title of Herald, my lady,” Delani informed her, struggling to maintain a respectful tone. Not only was Lady Rutherford her elder, but she was also Cullen’s mother, and Delani would not allow herself to disrespect the woman, even if she didn’t return the kindness. “People will believe what they want no matter what I say. And I’m not so bold as to think that I can decide which gods are real and which aren’t.”

Lady Rutherford took in a sharp breath. She opened her mouth to argue further with Delani but Cullen curtly cut her off before she could. “Enough, mother,” he growled, his tone dangerous and unbending. Giving his mother an angry look, he reminded her, “Lady Lavellan is the Inquisitor, and I will not allow you to talk to her in such a manner.”

His mother wrung her hands in her lap, gritting her teeth as she fought not to fight with her son. After a minute, she released a heavy breath and conceded, “You’re right.”

“I am,” he agreed. Setting his jaw, Cullen told his mother to, “Apologize to the Inquisitor.”

Surprised that he would demand such a thing from his mother, Delani placed a hand on his bicep and assured him that, “That’s not necessary, Commander. Lady Rutherford was just—“

“Being rude and disrespectful,” he completed her sentence for her, his narrowed gaze not leaving his mother’s for a second. To his mother, Cullen stated, “Lady Lavellan is the most thoughtful, considerate, kind, and loyal person I have ever had the pleasure of serving under. She alone can close rifts, she alone can stop Corypheus, and she alone can lead the Inquisition. It hardly matters what gods she prays to when compared to all of that, wouldn’t you agree, mother?”

Lady Rutherford worked her jaw as she thought over Cullen’s words and tried to find away around them. After a moment a defeated sigh sounded from her, and she apologetically tucked her chin toward her chest. “My sincerest apologies, my Lady Inquisitor. I spoke without thinking.”

Mia, Branson, and Rosalie were staring, wide eyed and slack jawed. After a minute passed it was Mia who snapped her jaw shut and tried to alleviate the tension that had settled around their table. “Well, now that that’s out of the way. Can I get anyone something to drink?”

It was Cullen who stood from the table. He offered his eldest sister a smile, and said, “Allow me, Mia,” before heading over toward the bar.

A second later Lady Rutherford excused herself and gave chase after Cullen. Delani watched them head over to the other side of the inn, wanting to know what they were going to talk about. Branson pulled her attention from the two, a smile on his face, his brown eyes warm a gentle just like his brother’s.

“When I heard that Cullen might be coming to visit us, I grabbed a chessboard so that we could play.” His smile grew into an excited grin. “Did you want to try your luck against the master?”

Delani smiled at him, a laugh in her voice when she replied, “I have to warn you, Cullen has been teaching me how to play and I haven’t learned a single thing.”

“Good,” Mia chuckled in reply, “Bran will need a comfort game after I wipe the floor with him.”

Her smile wavered from her features when Cullen and his mother still hadn’t returned. While she did want to play with Branson and Mia, Delani was more interested in learning what was taking them so long. With the excuse of needing to find a privy, Delani pardoned herself from the table and went in search of the Commander and his mother.

Her search took her upstairs to the inn’s rooms. There was a long hall that branched out into other, shorter halls. A few steps in and Delani was pulled to a stop by the sound of Cullen’s agitated voice. She pushed herself up against the wall and steadied her breath, trying to coax her heart back down to a calm beat. Straining her ears, she listened in on a conversation she hadn’t meant to be a part of.

“— behavior was unacceptable, mother,” said Cullen, still outraged over what had just transpired.

Lady Rutherford’s tone was tight when she rebuked. “My behavior was that of a concerned mother worried about the future of her son.”

“Mother,” Cullen sighed.

“Don’t ‘mother’ me,” she snapped at him before investigating, “Are the two of you romantically involved?” When Cullen responded with silence, she pressed him for an answer. “Well, are you?”

“Yes,” he admitted shamelessly, even sounding proud by the confession. “We are and I care about her very much.”

“Enough to marry her?”

Cullen coughed up a surprised, “What?”

“She may be Inquisitor but, after everything is said and done, she is still an elf, and a Dalish elf at that. She has no land, she has no money, she has no title beyond that of Inquisitor.”

“What are you getting at, mother?”

“You are the general of a great army, you are still a young man in his prime, and a bachelor eligible for marriage. You should be looking for a nice girl to marry, a girl that can offer you more. Someone with a title and an inheritance, someone who comes from a respectable family. You need to look for a nice Andrastian girl, because a relationship with this elf will only end in disaster.”

“I’m not interested in—“

Having heard enough, Delani turned away from the conversation and headed back down the stairs. She walked past Mia, Rosalie, and Branson with a brisk, “I need some air,” and headed outside.

Dusk was starting to darken the heavens, cooling the temperature down to a mild chill. Delani walked down the few steps before taking a seat on the second to last one. Sighing through her nose, she buried her hands in her hair and closed her eyes. She had known to expect hostility. She had known to expect rejection. What she hadn’t known to expect was for Cullen’s mother to be right. Delani had nothing to offer Cullen. He deserved lands and titles and respect, none of which she could give him. Delani would always be just an elf.

Chapter Text

“I’m not interested in any of that, mother,” Cullen declared, completely flabbergasted that the woman was even able to say such a thing. He didn’t care about wealth or respect, Cullen cared about Delani and that was all that should have ever mattered. “Delani makes me happier than I have ever been. That should be all that matters to you.”

His mother shook her head, regarding Cullen as though he couldn’t possibly understand. “Your future matters to me, Cullen.” She reached up to pat his cheek but he caught her wrist before she could.

“My future is with the Inquisition, serving the Inquisitor,” he stated with all of the conviction he felt. “She is important to me, and my feelings for her are real. I will not marry another woman for titles or wealth, because all I will ever want is her.” Narrowing his eyes, he corrected himself, “And I want you to accept that.”

“Cullen—“

He shook his head. “She is a good woman with a good heart, and she cares about me as much as I care about her. I will not listen to you erase those facts simply because she’s an elf.” Setting his jaw, Cullen took in a long breath and steadied his resolve. He gave his mother a measured look as he said, “My future is with Delani, and you will either accept that or you will not be part of our lives.”

His mother’s eyes widened with shock. She opened her mouth to argue, to try and make him see reason as she saw it, but Cullen wouldn’t hear any more of it. Lip curling with distaste, he stated, “She faces enough opposition as it is, I won’t let her endure anymore from you,” before leaving his mother in the hallway and starting for the stairs.

He knew his mother wanted him to be happy. Cullen knew that his mother wanted him to be taken care of, that was why he had been so confident that she would accept Delani without question. Delani not only made him happy, but she cared about him so much that he still had trouble believing it.

Cullen stepped off of the last step and found Bran in the middle of a chess game with Rosalie. Mia was standing at the bottom of the stairwell, leaning her back against a support beam. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted him standing behind her and offered Cullen a smile.

“You know, as your big sister, it is my responsibility to remind you that there isn't a woman in existence worthy of your affections.” Mia’s smile grew, it was warm, reassuring, supportive. She was offering him everything that their mother had thought to deny him, and Cullen didn’t know how important it was to him until she’d given it freely. “But if such a woman were to exist it would be the Inquisitor.”

Placing a hand on Mia’s shoulder, he squeezed it gently, hoping she would be able to tell how much he appreciated her words. Looking around the inn, Cullen searched for Delani and, when he didn’t find her, he wondered, “Where is she, by the way?”

Mia gestured toward the door. “She said she needed some air,” she answered. Before Cullen could chase after Delani, Mia caught him by the arm and informed him, “I think she heard you with mother.” It was a warning, and one he would be wise to take into consideration when going to speak with her.

He thanked his sister and left the warmth of the inn. Just outside, seated on the second to last step, Delani was hunched forward with her hands in her hair. Her shoulders were trembling, and Cullen knew that it wasn’t because of the cold. Taking the few steps down, Cullen shrugged out of his cloak and draped it over Delani’s shoulders as he sat down beside her.

Delani jerked at the suddenness of the contact before realizing what he’d done. She closed the cloak around her shoulders and smiled up at Cullen, wiping away the rivulets of tears that fell from her eyes. “Cullen,” she said, clearing the emotion out of her throat. Allowing her smile to grow a touch, Delani admitted, “I didn’t hear you come out.”

“You do know that I don’t care what my mother thinks, don’t you?” he asked, wanting to get to the point of their conversation so that he could show her what he’d been dying to show her all day.

Burrowing her face in the fur collar of his cloak, Delani sniffed away the rest of her tears and shook her head. She pointed her attention forward and, without looking at him, stated, “But she’s right.” She must have sensed him stiffen beside her, because she quickly added, “I have nothing to offer you, Cullen. I have no dowery, I have no—“

“Hey,” he gently gripped her by the chin and forced her to look at him. Searching her face, Cullen assured her, “I have no desire for wealth or a title. My only ambition is to serve the Inquisition, to serve the Inquisitor. I want you, Delani.” Cullen pressed his forehead to hers and repeated the words she had already said to him, words that he had so desperately needed to hear then, words that she so desperately needed to hear now. “I will only ever want you.”

She sighed and nodded against his brow, accepting his words without further argument; much to his relief. “Ma seranas, vhenan’ara.”

Cullen pressed a kiss to her brow, thinking of how best to reply, before settling on,“Atisha mala, ma atishan.” Standing from the step, Cullen offered Delani his hand and said, “Come, there is something that I wanted to show you.”

Taking his hand, the moment that she was back on her feet Delani shrugged out of his cloak and tried to offer it back to him. When Cullen declined with a shake of his head, she pulled her arms through the sleeves again and nodded in answer to his request. “You are just full of surprises today, aren’t you?” With a smile on her lips, Delani prompted, “What do you want to show me?”

Gesturing for her to follow him toward the stables, he asked, “Are you up for another ride?”

Sea green eyes alight with an emotion he dared to call adoration, she assured him, “I would follow you anywhere, Cullen. You know that.”

The kiss he pressed to her lips in reply was short, the briefness forced lest he fall prey to her heat again and give into his desires. Quickly they readied their mounts and raced out of Redcliffe. Their destination was a little less than an hour’s ride away, and it was an hour that they both used to forget what his mother had said in regards to their relationship. Cullen had been telling the truth when he told his mother that he would cut her out of his life if she didn’t accept Delani. Delani might have learned to accept that level of ignorance and intolerance, but it was something that he simply couldn’t accept from his family.

He led them through the countryside, through the forestation, all the way until the Hinterlands were no longer visible in the distance behind them. When he finally pulled them to a stop, their mounts were huffing, their breaths misting in the air before them. Cullen dismounted first before going to Cornelius’s side and helping Delani from his back.

A lake laid out before them, water reaching out to the horizon before being met by the embrace of land once again. Night was already dark in the sky, a low fog creeping in through the trees and inching toward the lake’s edge. Taking in a deep breath, Cullen shut his eyes to let a feeling of nostalgia crash over him. This had been his retreat for many years, being back was strange, but in a good way. He was excited to share this part of his life with Delani.

Taking her by the hand, he guided her onto the dock. A smile inched over his lips at the sound of her melodic voice wondering, “Where are we?”

He led her toward the edge of the dock, his gaze on the rippling water, the cold air of night in his lungs. “You walk into danger everyday,” Cullen explained, glancing down at Delani and allowing a warm smile to stretch over his lips. She was so beautiful, so ethereal and wild. He had never stood a chance against her, Cullen had been hers from the start and he hadn’t even known it. “I wanted to take you away from that, if only for a moment.”

Moving his attention from Delani and back onto the lake, he revealed, “I grew up not far from here. This place was always quiet.”

Delani breathed in deeply and a contented smile took shape on her plush lips. Without turning to face him, she asked, “Did you come here often?”

“I loved my siblings,” Cullen supplied with a grin. “But they were very loud, as I’m sure you can guess.” When she returned his grin, he finished, “I would come here to clear my head. They would always find me eventually.”

“It’s beautiful,” Delani said, pulling his cloak more snuggly against her, and Cullen couldn’t help how much he enjoyed seeing her in it, or imagining how much he would enjoy seeing her in nothing else but the cloak.

He shook away his wandering thoughts. He was here for a reason. They would get to that soon enough, there was something that he wanted to do first. Looking back out onto the lake, he started, “The last time I was here was the day I left for Templar training.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the small coin that had always been there, that had seen him through so much. Holding it out before him, Cullen inspected it for the millionth time, taking in all of the small details that he’d already memorized, the scratches, the smudges, the places that had been worn down by him thumbing it over too often. This coin was a part of his life, a part of who he was. It was a piece of home that he could always carry with him. It was the memories of family, the dreams of what the future held in store, it was hope that, even in the darkest times, things would get better.

“Bran gave me this,” he said, his voice distant as he remembered that day so long ago. The memory pulled a smile onto his lips. “It just happened to be in his pocket but he said it was for luck. Templars are not to carry such things. Our faith should see us through.” And perhaps it had, perhaps faith and luck were not so different.

The small upturn of Delani’s lips was understanding. Her large sea green eyes regarded him warmly as she suggested, “A little luck can’t hurt every now and then.”

“I suppose not,” he agreed. “I should have died during the blight, or at Kirkwall, or Haven. Take your pick. Yet I made it back here.” Cullen’s attention returned to the coin, and he sighed.

For so long it had been his most prized possession but, at some point down the line, that had changed. Actually, Cullen knew exactly at which point it had changed. It was the night that he had been so convinced that Delani had died at Haven, when his faith had not been enough to make him believe that she could survive. And then she had returned, his faith, his belief, his luck had all come back with her.

He took her delicate hand in his and placed the coin in her open palm. “Humor me,” he said, offering her a reassuring smile as to dissuade her from rejecting his gift. Curling her fingers around the coin, Cullen held her hand shut as he searched her gaze, trying to impart with her how important this was to him. “We don’t know what you’ll face before the end. This can’t hurt.”

When he released her hand from his hold, Delani rolled her fingers back out and stared at the coin sitting in the center of her palm. She took a deep breath before closing her fingers around it and assuring him, “I’ll keep it safe,” then adding, “But only if you do something for me,” before he could release a breath of relief.

Delani tucked the coin into her pocket before reaching for the carving knife that was always on her belt. Cullen’s heart jumped into his throat. He had never asked the story behind that knife, had never questioned its importance to her. But he had noticed that she did not go a single moment without it. Even while walking around in the safety of Skyhold, she had that knife strapped to her belt. It was a part of her outfit that he had come to expect, a part of her appearance that he had already accepted. Delani had green eyes, auburn hair, and a knife on her belt; that was how much a part of her it was. And now she was holding it out between them.

“This was my father’s knife,” she explained, her gaze on the blade, her eyes reflecting its shine. “After the drake had… my father pressed it into my hand while I was holding him in his final moments. He told me that as long as I had the knife he would be with me. Da’mi isa ma da’mi.”

A little blade for my little blade, Cullen whispered the translation in his mind, glad that he was able to work the words out himself. His eyes widened when Delani stretched the knife out toward him, making her offering official. She wanted him to have her knife? Her father’s knife? The only memento that she probably had left of the man? He couldn’t possibly accept it from her. He could never separate her from that knife, it wouldn’t feel right.

“I can’t take that, Delani,” he said, taking a step back as though even considering it could cost him a limb.

Her auburn brows furrowed with insult. “Please,” she insisted. When he still refused she gave him a hard look and observed, “You gave me your lucky coin, this is only fair. This knife has gotten me through some dark places, it helped me survive an avalanche, it returned me to you, and I want you to have it.”

When still he hesitated, Delani insisted, “This war is as likely to take you as it is to take me and I can’t, in good consciousness, let you face it unlucky. So please, vhenan’ara, take the knife.”

For a moment all Cullen could do was stare at her. What did he ever do to deserve this woman? A woman who did not know how to take without giving in return. A woman who cared so fiercely that the world trembled at her passion. He had given her a piece of himself, and she wanted to give him a piece of her in return. To deny her gesture was to deny her, and that was something that Cullen simply could not do.

Cullen took the knife, inspecting the worn leather hilt, the curved silverite blade inscribed with Dalish text. He couldn’t work out the meaning of the words, but they weren’t what was most important. The gesture was all that mattered. The woman that had made the gesture was the only thing of import.

“I will treasure it always,” he assured her before tucking the blade into his belt.

He placed his hand on her waist and pulled Delani into his warmth. Resting her hands on his chest, Delani stared up at Cullen, searching his eyes, needing to see if he was feeling what she was feeling. Cullen had just given her his most important possession and, in return, she had given him hers. It had felt right, giving her father’s knife to Cullen. At least she knew that it would be in good hands, that the luck, the strength, she had always pulled from that knife would now be going to Cullen. She wanted him to have it, wanted him to always have a piece of her with him, but it still wasn’t enough. Delani wanted more.

Holding his gaze, Delani’s hands roved up his chest to the back of his neck. As he pressed her to his chest, Delani pulled herself to his lips and felt a pleasant chill run down her spine at the feel of his mouth against hers. The kiss was gentle at first, tender, a soft flutter of their lips seeking each other out. Then the heat between them grew and their kisses deepened. Want was turning into need, tenderness into desperation.

His tongue traced the seam of her lips and she eagerly welcomed him into her mouth. Their tongues danced, a familiar push a pull, twirling, darting, chasing, battling, it was intoxicating. Lost to the decadence of his taste, Delani groaned into his mouth and Cullen swallowed the sound. His hands were gripping her tightly, holding her fiercely as though she might slip away from him at any moment.

With her fingers in his hair, Delani scraped her nails across his scalp and back down to his neck. She needed to feel more of him, she needed to feel all of him. Her hands wandered over the curve of his shoulders, feeling the ropes of muscle through his clothing. Cullen was strong, his body hard, hot, heady. She felt the muscles of his back, how his skin welcomed her touch, how his taut muscles pulled and strained as he too felt her every curve.

“Cullen,” she exhaled. His name was a whispered prayer, a plea. His strong fingers were reverently tracing the line of her body, memorizing her curves as though they were scripture. Her breath hitched when his grip found its way to the curve of her breast.

Delani rocked her body against Cullen’s and a deep, rumbling moan vibrated through him. “Delani,” he breathlessly returned, desire thick in his voice. “I-I-“ he stammered, the words either not forming or simply too hard to say. She took his bottom lip between her teeth and sucked and tugged on the flesh, encouraging him to say it. She needed him to say it.

“I-“ he tried again once his lip was free. Cullen’s hand was on the small of her back, dangerously close to cupping her entire rear. He pressed her to his pelvis and Delani took in a sharp breath at the feeling of his desire against her belly. “I need you.”

Finally, the words she had been dying to hear. Countless nights she had dreamed of this moment. Even her waking mind had fantasized about this, about him, about them finally giving way to their desires and welcoming him into her heat. “Cullen, yes,” she sighed, grateful that he would not pull away this time, that he would not stop her from getting what she so desperately needed.

Growling, Cullen picked Delani up by the waist and a surprised squeak sounded from her. She jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him to carry her off of the dock and back onto shore. Once his boot was met by blades of grass, Cullen fell onto his knees with her still in his arms.

“The cloak,” his voice was low, husky, grated by desire and a need that she knew intimately.

She knew what he was asking and quickly obliged. Pressing her lips to his again, Delani maintained the kiss as she pulled her arms from the sleeves and allowed the cloak to fall onto the grass behind her. He didn’t move from the position, instead Cullen welcomed the taste of her again. His tongue sought hers out, slithered into her mouth and explored her thoroughly. With his hands on her hips, and her legs still around his waist, Cullen moved his grip until it was filled by the curve of her backside.

Delani moaned into his mouth, her hips rocking against his groin and she groaned again. She could feel him through his trousers, could feel his solid length straining against her heat. Desire blinded her, consumed her, and she gyrated in his lap again, seeking out his hardness. The memory of him, of his size, of his girth, of how his manhood had tasted in her mouth, it was maddening.

Upon the first sight of him, Delani had been rendered speechless. She had stared at his length and wondered how he would ever manage to fit inside her. And then she had slowly taken him into her mouth, an inch at a time, and she knew. Cullen would fit, inch by inch, he would fit, he would fill, he would satisfy, and that was exactly what she needed.

He bit into her lip at the feeling of her rocking in his lap. The growl that rumbled through him was dangerous, predatory, possessive, and only served to fan the flames of her desire. Carefully, Cullen set Delani down on his cloak. He pulled away from her lips and a small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth at the sound of her whine in protest.

Any further complaints died in her mouth at the sight of the need in his eyes, the adoration, the affection. Cullen’s hands were trembling when he reached out to undo the knots of her tunic, causing him to fumble with the first two. Then Delani caught and held his gaze, she caressed his cheek and he pressed a tender kiss on the inside of her palm. She wanted this. She wanted him, and he could see it in her eyes. The rest of her knots gave way under steady hands.

Gooseflesh broke out over her skin once it was met with the cold night air. Cold that was immediately forgotten at the feeling of Cullen’s warm hands on her collarbone, fingers sliding underneath the fabric and pushing it back over her shoulders. All Delani wore underneath her tunic was her breast band, and another shudder wracked through her; not because of the cold, but because of the fire burning in Cullen’s amber eyes.

Her tunic fell from her shoulders and pooled on the ground behind her. Delani straightened her spine as Cullen took in the sight of her, proud of her hard earned body. She knew her muscles were strong, taut, defined. She knew her curves were feminine, that she was an atypical combination of firm and soft, of rounded and defined. Delani welcomed Cullen’s gaze, as he would welcome hers.

“Maker,” he breathed, a prayer of thanks to one most high. “You are so beautiful.”

Kneeling before him, Delani gently pressed her lips to his as she started to work him out of his clothes as well. With some assistance from Cullen, she had him out of his bracers and buckles, out of his shirt and undershirt, until he was kneeling topless before her. She sat back and admired Cullen the same way he had admired her.

He was built by strong muscles earned over years of militant training. More than that, the strength in his arms, his shoulders, his pectorals, his rippling abdominals, those muscles were the result of diligent work, of prideful pursual. He had worked hard for his body, not only because his occupation demanded strength, but because he liked the way he looked, the way he felt, and Delani could not blame him for it.

Delani reached out to him, her fingers seeking contact, needing his heat. She placed her hand on his chest, over the excited beat of his heart. Closing her eyes she listened to her own frantic heartbeat, listened to how her body reacted so desperately towards him. When she opened up her eyes again, it was to hold his gaze and whisper, “I need you.”

He was on her in a flash, easing her onto her back, his cloak protecting her from the cold, wet grass. Cullen loomed over her, resting his weight on his forearm as he took in the sight of her laying ready beneath him. Hooking his finger around her breast band, between her cleavage, Cullen wondered, “Have you any idea how badly I want you,” in that gravelly voice of his.

When she nodded that she knew exactly how badly, he tugged the band downward and her breasts fell free. Cullen licked his lips at the sight of them, a soft groan escaping him as he devoured her with his eyes. He returned his gaze to hers, and she could clearly see the restraint in his eyes, the control.

“Have you any idea how badly I need you?”

Just as badly as she needed him, she guessed. Grabbing him by the face, Delani mewed, “Cullen.” It was a demand, an order. She needed his hands on her body, she needed his body all over her, inside of her, she needed him, and she needed him now.

He returned his mouth to hers, starting himself with the familiarity of her tongue against his before venturing to more foreign territory. As he moved his lips from her mouth to her jaw, Cullen’s hands were on her breasts, rolling them, kneading them, finding her pearled peeks and pinching them in between his fingers. Delani hissed at the pleasure pain, feeling a jolt zap down her spine and straight to her core.

As Cullen tasted her neck, lapped at her pulse, nipped at her skin, Delani dragged her nails down his back until she had a firm grip on his backside. He was between her legs now, his arousal rocking against hers, and Delani used her grip on his ass to press him more firmly against her core. Curse his trousers, curse her tights! Why were they even still on? These were unforgivable transgressions when she needed him so badly.

Lips like fire grew more and more certain with each taste, soon Cullen was leaving the curve of her neck to her collar bone. He left a trail of wet heat as he kissed and licked his way from her neck to her chest until he had a sensitive nipple in his mouth.

“Creators,” Delani threw her head back as she cried out a desperate moan. The feeling of him licking her, sucking her, the tip of his tongue twirling over the perked flesh, it was driving her insane. Clumsy with passion, Delani reached between them and started to unlace his trousers. Blindly she worked as Culled continued to suck on her.

His pants were undone, but they were still on, she had won half the battle but did not yet know victory. Attention divided between her breasts, Cullen released her from between his lips and quietly growled, “Do you need me, Delani?”

“Yes,” she cried, “Cullen, please.”

“Ma nuvinen, ma atishan.” Never in her life had her native tongue sounded so delicious to her ears. Cullen tucked his fingers under her tights and dragged them down her legs. Rolling to his side, he quickly discarded his breeches before finding his place between her legs again.

As he kneeled between her spread legs, Cullen stared down at Delani as though she were some creature of legend, as though he expected her to disappear at any second. He was regarding her like a treasure, when it was he who was invaluable, priceless, far too good and more than she would ever deserve.

He gripped the base of his shaft, pulling Delani’s attention down to his arousal standing at attention between them. He was thick, veins pronounced, so well endowed and so ready to fill her sheath. When Delani rolled her hips toward him a smile hinted at the edges of his mouth. Cullen lubricated his tip with the slick heat of her desire, eyes clamping shut with the sensation, bottom lip finding its way between his teeth as a groan rumbled out of him.

At the sound of Delani desperately mewing his name, “Cullen, please, I need you,” he pressed himself to her entrance to oblige her. Delani hissed and Cullen moaned as he slowly eased himself into the cradle of her body, inch by decadent inch. By the time he was sheathed to the hilt they were both breathing heavily.

Cullen held Delani’s gaze, waiting, searching, and when she realized what he wanted she nodded that she was ready, eager, desperate for more. He pulled out of Delani completely before slamming back in, jostling her, stirring her, both of them crying out at the intensity of the sensation. The sound of their bodies slapping together, the rhythm of his thrusts, their passionate moans, were the only sounds to fill the area.

She arched her hips to meet his every thrust, feeling his length slide in and out of her. The feeling of him stretching her, filling her, rubbing deliciously against her aching inner walls, it was intoxicating, addictive, it was getting to be too much. Fire so hot that it burned white was raging at her core, lapping at her skin, stoked by his every touch, by his every thrust. Soon Cullen’s body was slapping against her at a quickened pace and she knew that she would not last much longer.

He had pushed her up the hill of climax, and now she stood toeing the edge. With her nails digging into his shoulders, Delani clung to him, hoping to stay grounded while her body threatened to disintegrate from the flames. Then Cullen lowered his mouth back down to hers, the kiss was distracting, disorienting, keeping her mind from focusing the task of keeping her from falling. Just like that, the pressure gave way. White flashed before her eyes as Delani was sent soaring into orgasm.

“Cullen!” she cried as she met the sun. Her body trembled, her insides quivered. She pulsed around him, milking his length for all that he could give her.

His face was buried in the crook of her neck as his own release jetted through him. Cullen had conformed to the shape of her body, molding himself against her as ecstasy drained him and left him spent. Once they had both come down from the billowy clouds of release, he rolled off of her as to not crush her with his weight.

They laid there for some time, catching their breath, taking in everything that had just happened between them. Rolling over, Delani tucked herself to Cullen’s side and couldn’t fight the contented grin from her face even if she tried. When he wrapped an arm around her shoulders she used his chest as a pillow and breathed him in. Cullen smelled of summer and rain, he was a man beyond comparison, and she was falling so desperately, so madly in lo—

“I probably shouldn’t tell you how badly I’ve been wanting for that to happen,” she stated with a giggle, feeling bubbly and alive.

Rubbing the length of her arm, he assured her, “Not nearly as long as I have, ma atishan.” Cullen pressed a kiss to the top of her head and breathed her in. Quietly he whispered, “I keep thinking that this is a dream, that I’ll wake up and I’ll be alone.”

Delani burrowed into Cullen’s side. “If this is a dream I never want to wake,” was her muffled reply.

They stayed like that for a few more minutes, just basking in the cool air and the warmth of each other’s naked company. It wasn’t until Delani started trembling that Cullen decided that, maybe, they should head back. “We left rather abruptly. My family will likely be concerned,” he said as he handed her her tights before reaching for his own discarded trousers.

Jokingly, Delani inquired, “Afraid that the pagan savage is making a blood sacrifice out of the precious Commander, are they?”

He gave her a reprimanding look before a nervous smile slipped onto his lips. “I hope you do not mind, but I only paid for one room.”

Shocked, Delani quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “You were planning to bed me tonight this whole time, weren’t you?” she demanded, jaw falling open at his boldness as she pulled on her tunic and retied the knots.

A laugh came from Cullen, loud and buoyant and the most lovely sound she had ever heard. “Is that a complaint I hear, my lady?”

“No,” she quickly amended. Delani was nothing but glad that they’d finally made love. She had longed after it, after him, for so long already it was nice to not have to wait any longer. Shrugging, she finished, “Just surprise.”

Cullen smiled, his clothes were back on and a little roughed up but he was dressed and that had to count for something. “I am full of surprises, Delani.” His smile turned wolfish when he added, “Perhaps a few more await you once we’ve returned to the inn.”

No other words could have had her moving faster. Hurrying to mount Cornelius, Delani shouted, “I’ll race you there," and Cullen's laughter chased after her.

Chapter Text

“Maker have mercy,” Cullen groaned before scraping his teeth across the arch of Delani’s neck. She felt too good, she was too much, the fiery heat of her tight passage was going to ruin him. It already had.

Her nails were digging into his shoulder blades, dragging down his back as she arched herself into his every thrust. Soft mews of pleasure had long since turned into loud demanding moans. She wanted release, she wanted satisfaction, but Cullen was making her wait just a little bit longer before finding either.

He placed a kiss on her neck, soothing the offended area before licking the frantic beat of her pulse. Maintaining a slow torturous rhythm, Cullen trailed his tongue from her neck all the way to her ear. With a quick bite to her earlobe, he tasted the shell of her long, pointed ear. He sucked on the sharp edge and Delani’s entire body arched in response, a moan so loud and desperate that it filled the room ripped out of her. When he licked his way back down to her lobe, he hadn’t enough time to even think before she shoved him off of her and climbed onto his lap.

The look in her dilated sea green eyes was dangerous, possessive, punishing. With her fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, Delani positioned him at her entrance. “Do you think it’s cute to tease me with release, Commander?”

His heart was beating excitedly in his ears, desire so hot it burned like liquid fire coursing through his veins. Delani hovered over him, her clay colored skin glistening with sweat. She looked unreal, like a goddess of vengeance casted from bronze with eyes of emerald and hair of silk dyed by blood. Her round breasts were reddened by his touch, small round nipples beckoning his mouth, his treasured coin had been fashioned into a necklace by a thin rope and was cuddled between the valley of her cleavage.

Cullen placed his hands on her hips as he continued to admire her. Her muscles were hard under his grasp, defined abdominals taut under her skin. Everywhere he touched was shaped by strength, iron encased by velvet, steel accentuated by delicious feminine curves. Delani’s body was a temple and Cullen needed to worship her properly.

“Well,” she demanded an answer to a question that he couldn’t remember. Her lower lips were soaked by her excitement, her desire, and she was depriving him of her feminine embrace. Her eyebrow was cocked as she awaited his reply, the look in her eyes was unforgiving.

A beastly moan rumbled out of him, starting from his chest and vibrating between them. “Emma abelas, ma atishan,” he breathed out the apology and his arousal jerked in her grasp.

Delani narrowed her eyes. “You are not forgiven.” Slowly, torturously, she lowered herself onto him completely. Her head fell back and a moan escaped her the same time that a needy hiss dragged through his clenched teeth.

Once he was enveloped by the embrace of her hot cradle once more her eyes reopened, Delani looked down to meet Cullen’s desperate and hooded gaze. “Put your hands on the headboard,” she instructed, peeling his fingers from her hips. When Cullen complied, a wolfish smirk twisted her lips and she said, “I will take what I want from you and you will watch. You are not to remove your hands from that headboard until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?”

He had never heard more arousing instructions in his entire life. “Yes,” he said with a breathless exhale.

“Good.”

Delani started to rock against him and suddenly Cullen wasn’t so sure that he could keep his word. She felt too good. He had to touch her. His fingers strained against the wood above his head, his knuckles white from the force with which he was gripping it.

Cullen watched as her breasts bounced. He watched as her hips rolled. He watched as sweat glistened on her skin, rivulets of exertion dripping down the exquisite curves of her body. He licked his lips and threw his head back into the pillow. A frustrated growl rumbled out of him. He didn’t know how much longer he could continue to suffer this punishment. Not when her flesh sang so beautifully in want of his touch. Delani was a siren, and he was spellbound, a thrall whose only desire was to touch her all over, please her, possess her.

Enduring his punishment through gritted teeth, Cullen arched his hips deeper into Delani and they both moaned in response to the depth of his thrust.  She leaned forward, placing her hands on his chest to perch herself up, Delani held Cullen’s gaze as she continued to ride him. Cullen thrust up again and her eyes clasped tightly shut, her nails buried in his chest, ragged breaths were pulled through clenched teeth.

When she opened her eyes again he was pinned in place by what he found in her green gaze. Suddenly Cullen wasn’t her prey, her possession, her plaything. Delani was looking at Cullen as though he were life, as though he were everything, and his heart lurched in his chest.

“Delani,” his whispered, her name a prayer on his lips. Maintaining his hold on the headboard, Cullen readjusted his grip and fought the temptation to release it completely. He held her gaze, his request clear in his eyes.

She leaned back in his lap, continuing to gyrate her hips, never stopping from pushing herself closer and closer to satisfaction. Nodding once, Delani combed her auburn hair away from her face and breathlessly beckoned him to, “Touch me, Cullen.”

Without the need of further invitation, Cullen released the headboard and touched her all over. His hands roved the scape of her body, cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples, feeling down the plane of her stomach, gripping her hips as she rolled against him. Her moans were loud, her rhythm was frantic, she was moving with a desperation that he knew well, that he was intimately familiar with, that he was suffering right that very moment.

Cullen could feel his climax creeping down his spine, delicious foreboding awaiting him just around the corner. Refusing to meet release before Delani had enjoyed her own, his fingers found the bundle of nerves at the seam of her womanhood. He started to rub her bud in quick circles that matched the pace of her rolling hips.

“Creators, Cullen,” she cried out, her head falling back, her chest heaving as she struggled to find breath. Her pace quickened, her walls started to tighten around him. “Don’t fucking stop.”

Stop? He wouldn’t dare, he was too close. Cullen matched the rock of her hips thrust for thrust and in a matter of seconds Delani fell apart at the seams. A cry sounded from her as she melted on top of him, falling onto his chest as her every bone was rendered useless.

With her laying on his chest, Cullen gripped her by the curve of her rear and hammered into her. The pulse of her vaginal walls was his undoing. As she tightened around him, mind numbing contractions squeezing him relentlessly, he pushed into her one last time before stepping over the edge and falling into the oblivion of ecstasy.

She lay on his chest, her ear over the rapid beat of his heart. They laid like that for a little while, catching their breaths. After a few seconds she brushed a kiss to his chest and cleared her throat. “That was…”

Cullen hugged her against him, still inside her as his arousal softened. Breathing in her scent of wildflowers and sex, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before inarticulately agreeing, “I know.”

He could feel her smile against his chest before she lifted her face to look at him. Perching her elbow on his shoulder, she rested her cheek in the palm of her hand and stared down at him. As she ran her fingers through his hair, she wondered, “Remind me again why it took us so long to do this.”

Closing his eyes to enjoy the feel of her digits combing through his hair, Cullen released a slow exhale. There was a mild ache starting to take shape in the back of his head, a warning of the migraine soon to come. He had felt it earlier, when he’d first awoken, but the sight of Delani sleeping beside him had been too arousing to resist. Their morning excursion had been a pleasant distraction from the headache, but now that it was over there was nothing to stop the inevitable migraine.

With his eyes still shut, Cullen rubbed a hand down her naked back and admitted, “There was a reason.” A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “I just can’t remember what it was.”

“Hey,” the concern in her voice pulled his eyes open again. Cullen stared up at Delani, catching the worry in her gaze. She caressed the side of his face, her brows furrowed, her lips pulled into a thin line. Cupping his cheek in her delicate hand, she wondered, “Is everything alright?”

Cullen offered her a reassuring smile before gently moving her hand from his cheek and placing a kiss in her palm. “It’s just a headache,” he confessed only for a sharp sting of guilt to jolt through him. He hadn’t told her about the lyrium yet. Cullen knew he had to, knew that he should have already, but fear of her reaction had kept him silent. He would tell her… later.

Delani placed a kiss on his brow before looking back down at his face, a small smile on her full lips as she asked, “Better?”

A grin expanded over his lips and Cullen flipped Delani onto her back. Careful not to crush her with his weight he placed a kiss on the tip of her nose and answered, “Much. Ma serannas, ma atishan.”

Her gaze was warm as she stared up at him, tender, adoring. She softly gripped him by the nape of the neck and pulled his lips down to hers. The kiss was deep, telling, relaying to him emotions that he found brewing within himself. Her smell of wildflowers was in his nose again, her heat warming up his skin. Delani broke away from him before the temptation to go another round became too difficult to resist.

Rolling out from under him, Delani sat up on the edge of the bed and stretched her arms over her head, a high pitched squeak sounding from her with the effort. Cullen rolled onto his side and watched her, admired how her well defined back muscles shifted with her every motion. The crimson line work of her vallaslin slithered down her spine, branched out over her shoulders, and down her arms to her elbows. It was beautiful, breathtaking, and he couldn’t help himself when he reached out to trace the design.

“Did it hurt?” he asked, the tip of his finger following a crimson line as it bent from her spine over her ribcage.

Delani shook her head. “It was more annoying than anything,” she supplied, glancing at him over her shoulder to watch him stare at her. When he looked up from her back to meet her gaze, she smiled and explained, “The pain of the needle digging into your skin is like a sharp pinch, but it doesn’t stop. You have to sit there, motionless, while a needle buries ink into your skin for hours. After a while the pain becomes frustrating.”

A breath expelled from his lungs as he tried to imagine the process. His fingers fell from Delani’s back as she bent over to collect her clothes from the floor. Standing from his bed, she pulled on her smalls, securing her breast band in place before pulling on her tights and tugging on her tunic. Her gaze was pointed upward as she pulled her hair out from under her tunic and a curious expression twisted her features.

“Vhenan’ara,” she started, amusement in her tone. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but there is a gaping hole in your roof.”

Cullen fell onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. A bright beam of daylight broke through the crumbling wood and brightened his room. Cradling his head in his hands, Cullen allowed a grin to spread over his mouth. “Would you look at that,” he retorted, unable to hide his amusement. “I hadn’t noticed.”

She scoffed. “Obviously, or it wouldn’t still be like that.” When Cullen grinned at Delani she quirked an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk at the edges of her mouth. “Creators, Cullen, what do you do when it rains, or if it snows?”

“My bed is on the other side of the room,” he stated in his defense, a chuckle following suit when Delani pinned him down with an faux-unamused glare. Sighing in defeat, Cullen asked, “You want me to get it fixed, don’t you?”

The smile that had been hiding just under the surface of her lovely features finally broke free. Giving him an exasperated look, Delani answered his question with a question. “Why haven’t you fixed it already?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he bashfully supplied, “I haven’t gotten to it yet.”

With a shake of her head, Delani crawled back onto the bed and brushed a quick kiss onto his lips. Pulling away, she stared down at him and said, “I can’t tell you what to do with your own space. But I can tell you that if you get sick because of that hole in your roof, I will be very cross with you.” Gently patting his cheek, she pushed herself off of the bed and started for the ladder that would let her descend to his office.

“Trust me, Commander,” she started as she lowered herself down onto the ladder. Holding his gaze, she assured him with a mildly reprimanding grin, “My ire is not something that you want to have.”

Smiling back at her, Cullen replied, “I will keep that in mind, Inquisitor.”

She started down the ladder as she said, “Be sure that you do,” and disappeared from his quarters.

Cullen waited for the sound of his office door opening and closing before he bothered to roll out of bed. There was still a smile on his lips but, with pulse of pain that jarred through his skull, it quickly gave way to a wince. Now that his only source of distraction had left him, there was nothing to stop his migraine from rolling through his head like the slow crawl of fog. The ache was mild now, but he knew that the pain would progress through the rest of the day.

Sighing, Cullen mentally prepared himself to deal with the pain. He would bear it like he always did. In silence. After making his bed, he put on his underclothes, then moved on to his armor before sliding his arms through the sleeves of his cloak. The fur tickled his neck, warming him against the slight chill that snuck into the room through the hole overhead.

He gave the roof a quick glance, smiling to himself at the memory of Delani glowering at it, as he adjusted the fit of his sword at his waist. On the other side of his belt, Delani’s lucky carving knife was sheathed. It would stay with him always, just as his coin would always be with her. In a sense, they would always be together, have a part of each other, and the thought warmed his heart.

Once he was dressed and prepared to face the day, Cullen descended from his bedroom and stepped into his office. The day had only just started, and Skyhold was still in the process of waking to face it full on. Last night had been the first that Delani had spent in his bed since their relationship had escalated into something more. Even though they’d woken up ready and eager to explore each other fully, she had been mindful to leave his quarters before too many people could see her go and realize the true nature of what their relationship had become.

Cullen knew that there were already rumors spreading, whispers circling about their relationship. It wasn’t that he was ashamed or embarrassed, the simple fact of the matter was that he wanted the intimate details of their relationship to stay between them. What he and Delani did in his bed or hers was no one else's business but their own. It wouldn't stop the rumor mill from churning up one ridiculous speculation after the other, but he would take a semblance of privacy wherever he could.

Parchment paper lay scattered over his desk, reports from the previous night forgotten the moment Delani had come in hopes of distracting him. It was something she had become quite proficient at. Cullen had managed to resist her for a total of two minutes before allowing himself to be seduced into following her up the ladder to his bed. But now he had twice the work to do.

Another surge of pain ricocheted off of the walls of his skull. Cullen pressed his fingers into his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. With the ache came a familiar wave of nausea. Had he eaten anything it would have rolled in his gut and threatened to come up. Luckily, he had opted to skip breakfast in order to enjoy more time with Delani. Rubbing this temples, he took in several deep breaths, forcing his stomach to settle, before reopening his eyes and getting started with work.

Once he was seated at his desk he did not move again until hours had already passed and every piece of parchment that touched his desk had been attended to. By the time that the noonday sun filtered into his office through the windows, the paperwork on his desk was already read and signed, and all that was left for him to do was to go to the war table and strategize with his captain where the Inquisition’s forces were most needed.

Headache still ringing loudly in his head, Cullen continued to ignore the pain as he left his office and started for the main hall. He strolled through the rotunda, surprised to not find Solas at his desk until he heard two mages up in the library in the midst of a heated debate. With a shake of his head, he left the atrium and stepped into the main hall. The din of chattering nobles prodded at his migraine, but Cullen bit back the pain.

Varric acknowledged him with a nod, and Cullen returned the greeting in like before heading for the war room. Something in his expression must have revealed his mood, because the dalliers in the main hall were giving him a wide berth as he passed, and conversation died on their lips until he was out of earshot.

Opening the door to Josephine’s office, he stepped into the ambient glow of candles and the smell of lavender. The Antivan ambassador was situated at her desk, quill in hand, working single-mindedly on whatever task was laid out before her. Without so much as looking up to see who had entered her office, Josephine greeted him with a pleasantness in her tone that he found surprising; considering how concentrated she was on her work.

“Captain Ophelia is waiting for you in the war room,” she said. “I’ve instructed for food to be delivered to you in an hour’s time.”

Unsurprised by her considerate gesture, Cullen bowed his head in gratitude even though he knew she wouldn’t see the motion. “Thank you, Josephine.”

She nodded in acceptance of his gratitude and refocused all of her attention into work. With nothing left to be said between them, Cullen started for the war room once again. The door opened with a creak, and Captain Ophelia was leaning forward on the table, her brows furrowed in thought.

Looking up at the sound of his arrival, the captain stood at attention until he instructed her to be at ease. He rounded the table to stand beside her and look at what she’d been so concentrated on. Perching his hands on the pommel of his sword, Cullen observed, “I’ve seen you wear that look before, Captain. What’s the matter?”

Captain Ophelia stared up at him with her near black eyes. She was a sturdy woman, tall and built like a qunari. With her skin tone of ebony, her full features were stern, serious, less prone to smiling than most accused Cullen of being. She was governed by strict morals and sound logic, and Cullen was glad to have her as his second in command. With her at his side, there was never a doubt that everything they set out to do would get done.

Her jaw popped in reply to his question. Pointing her attention back down to the map, she motioned to the marker over the Exalted Plains. “Inquisitor Lavellan has requested a bridge be built but with the ongoing conflict between Empress Celine’s forces, Gaspard’s chevaliers, the Free Men, and demons we don’t have a strong enough presence to build and hold the bridge.”

Cullen looked down at the map and considered their options. Wanting to know how his captain thought they should approach the matter, he asked, “What do you suggest we do?”

“Thanks to the Inquisitor we are facing next to no opposition in the Hinterlands,” she started motioning to the other side of the war table where a marker sat on top of Redcliffe. “If we relocate a fraction of our forces from the Hinterlands and into the Exalted Plains we will be able to have a stronger foothold there.”

Scraping his gloved fingers over his scruff, he let out a small sigh as he mulled over her suggestion. “The Hinterlands is the largest area under our protection. We need to maintain a presence there befitting its size.”

She hummed in understanding before shaking her head. “Since recruiting the Templars, the mages have been eradicated from Redcliffe castle. With ours and King Alistair’s help Arl Teagan has been able to retake control of his lands. A force that great is no longer necessary, and our men are needed elsewhere.”

Tapping his fingers on the pommel of his sword, Cullen thought heavily over her suggestion. She had a point, but they still needed to consider all angles. After a deep breath, Cullen ignored the pulsing in his head and started to get to work with Captain Ophelia.

One hour in, his meeting with his captain was interrupted by the smell of food being carted into the war room. They continued to work as they ate, going over strategies and battle plans, discussing how the Inquisition’s forces were improving, and which areas were in the most need of improvement. Before he realized it one hour had turned to three and Captain Ophelia had to excuse herself in order to get to the rest of her duties.

Cullen stayed in the war room, looking at the marker covered map. There was so much to do, just looking down at the table made it seem overwhelming. But, despite Delani’s evasion of paperwork, she was phenomenal at delegating responsibilities. She knew everyone’s strengths, and she knew how to use them. Every marker on the map would be addressed, one at a time, until everyone had a job to do and the necessary tools to get it done.

His migraine had worsened, like he knew it would. The pain was strongest behind his eyes, blurring the colors of the map as his vision faltered. Pinching the bridge of his nose and clamping his eyes tightly shut, he sucked in a series of heavy breaths until his stomach settled back down. For a moment he was too focused on conquering his pain to notice anything else.

That was why, when he opened his eyes to find Cassandra standing before him, he was surprised to discover that he was no longer alone. Cullen’s hand fell from his face as he greeted the Seeker. “Lady Cassandra,” he said, his voice level, professional. “Did you need something?”

She shook her head curtly, stepping up to the war table to look ever all of the markers. “Only to speak with you.”

“In regards to what?” he asked, an eyebrow arched curiously.

“Dagna wants to perform an experiment with Knight-Captain Riley’s men,” Cassandra ended her explanation at the sight of Cullen wincing and rubbing at his temple. Completely disregarding what she had come to the war room to discuss with him, Cassandra asked, “Are you feeling alright, Commander?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to banish the worst of the pain as he gritted out, “Fine.” After a moment the throbbing in his head ebbed just a bit and he was able to see clearly once again. Refocusing on Cassandra, Cullen gestured for her to continue with what she had been saying. “What did you need from me?”

“For you to tell me how you’re doing,” she answered, disregarding his question and unflinchingly holding the glare he pointed at her. Raising her chin, her next question came out in the form of an order. “How is the pain?”

Grinding his molars, he choked back the irritation that formed at the sound of her concern. Huffing out an impatient breath, Cullen assured her, “Manageable.”

Cassandra knew that she would pull no more from him, so she crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave him a severe once over. Concern was obvious in her eyes, but her features were pulled tightly by her agitation with his stubborn behavior. Her gaze stopped at his waist and her eyes widened a bit. When Cullen looked down it was to find what she was staring at.

“That’s the Inquisitor’s carving knife,” she stated, her voice distant, shocked. Cassandra looked up to meet his gaze and something like understanding began to unravel in her eyes. “She gave it to you?”

He felt a familiar heat start to burn under his cheeks and on the back of his neck, though he maintained his unshakable mien. “She did,” Cullen said in answer to her question.

Unfazed by his shortness, Cassandra’s attention went from his gaze down to the knife before meeting his eyes again. Brows arched with undisguised surprise, she wondered, “So your relationship with Delani is quite serious?”

A part of Cullen wanted to shout yes from the mountaintop, to scream it into the heavens until all of Thedas knew that Delani was his and he was hers. Instead, Cullen remained expressionless as he regarded Cassandra. His migraine had soured his mood, and her prodding was not helping to alleviate the issue.

“With all due respect, Cassandra,” he started, keeping his tone professional. “I would prefer to keep the details of my relationship with Delani private.”

She nodded that she understood, only to ask, “Does she know that you’ve stopped taking lyrium?” When Cullen’s expression tightened so did hers, with disappointment and agitation. “She’s the Inquisitor, Cullen. You have to tell her.”

“I know that,” he growled, not liking the lecturing tone her voice had taken.

Ignoring his ire, Cassandra returned, “So when will you tell her?”

He dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. Cullen had avoided the topic too long already. Cassandra had proven to be the fire under his ass to get him into action. He couldn’t put this off much longer. Delani needed to know for more reasons than her outranking him.

Cullen sighed, and said, “Today.”

They held each other’s gazes for a second as Cassandra wordlessly offered her support. Turning on her heel, she started for the door and, as she reached for the knob, she looked back at Cullen with the reassurance, “She will understand.” Not waiting for his reply she left him to stand alone in the war room again.

Another sigh eased out of him as he considered how the upcoming conversation with Delani would transpire. He hoped to the Maker that Cassandra was right. He did not know if he would be able to carry on without Delani’s support. He needed for her to understand.

Her hunting trip with Cullen seemed so long ago but, true to his word, he had looked into giving the children at Skyhold an education. It had taken some arm twisting and promised debts, but he had been able to convince the chantry sisters, and a few of the enchanters that they had on staff, to educate the children for a few hours everyday. Delani liked to come and sit in whenever she had the time, though not as often as she liked; the children were easily distracted by her presence and it took too long for them to settle back down from their excitement in seeing her again.

Today though, she was present for another reason. She had to discuss something with Mother Giselle, and the woman had told her to meet her here. Combing back her hair, Delani struggled with nerves that was spreading through her gut like a thicket of vines. She had a surprise in mind for Cullen, and hoped to the Creators that he would like it, but there was a part of her that feared he might take offense instead.

She reached for her knife out of habit, only to find empty space where it had once hung on her belt. Her heart jumped into her throat before she remembered giving it to Cullen, an equal exchange for something dear to him. A smile inched along her lips as she pulled the coin out from under her tunic and stared down at it.

Afraid that she would lose the coin, Delani had drilled a small hole into the trinket and secured it with a thin black rope. Just as her knife would always remain at Cullen’s side, his coin would always be near to her heart. They were a part of each other now. She just wished that she had more ways to demonstrate that to him. Hence her desire to speak with Mother Giselle.

“My Lady Inquisitor,” a familiar accented voice sounded from beside Delani.

Tucking Cullen’s coin back under her tunic, Delani pushed herself off of the wall and turned to greet Mother Giselle. The older woman was regarding her kindly, a maternal smile at the corners of her lips and unwavering patience in her eyes. She motioned with her hand for Delani to walk with her, and started for the stairwell that would lead them back up to the main hall.

“You wanted to speak with me, Inquisitor?”

Delani looked back at the children and offered the few that were watching her departure a smile as farewell. Returning her attention to their conversation, Delani stated, “Yes,” before nervously tucking her long bangs behind her ear and climbing up the steps beside Mother Giselle. “I wanted to ask you about the Chant of Light.”

The human woman’s gaze snapped to Delani and hope burned behind her dark brown eyes. They’d had the discussion of Delani’s conversion to the faith a dozen times over, and never before had Delani shown any interest in Andrastianism. Knowing better than to push the topic before knowing exactly what it was Delani was asking after, Mother Giselle quietly waited for her to explain herself.

“How—“ Delani stammered over herself, feeling awkward having this discussion. Clearing her throat, she forced herself to get it over with so that they might never have this conversation again. “How does one go about learning it?”

A small, encouraging smile spread over Mother Giselle’s lips. “Have you changed your mind about denying the faith, my Lady Herald?” The hope in her eyes was loud in her voice. How great it would be for Mother Giselle, if conversion had really been what Delani was after, to convert the heretic Inquisitor and save her immortal soul.

Unafraid to disappoint Mother Giselle on the matter, Delani offered the elder woman an apologetic smile and confessed, “Not quite.” When Mother Giselle’s features fell, she explained the origins of her inquiry. “The words are important to someone dear to me. And I wanted to demonstrate to them that, though our beliefs are different, their faith is something I greatly admire.”

“Things are quite serious between you and the Commander, aren’t they?” commented Mother Giselle with a knowing smile on her face. At the sight of Delani’s cheeks reddening, the older woman walked over to a nearby table and picked up a tome before Delani could start stammering excuses or falsehoods. She flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for.

Walking back to where Delani was standing, Mother Giselle handed the book over with the explanation, “May I suggest starting with the Canticle of Benedictions?” As Delani stared down at the words scribed on thin parchment, the older woman added, “And you may want to skim over the Canticle of Silence, chapter three, verse six, whenever you have the time.”

Delani absently nodded as she continued to inspect the words on the page. Without looking up at Mother Giselle, she said, “Thank you, Mother.”

“Of course, dear child,” the pleasantness in the older woman’s tone pulled Delani’s gaze from the tome in hand. Offering Delani a warm smile, she said, “If you have any questions I will be more than happy to answer them for you. You know where to find me.”

She nodded her understanding, before turning to leave. “Thank you again, Mother Giselle,” she said over her shoulder as she left the main hall for the courtyard outside.

Delani now had means to memorize the Chant of Light. She knew that there were probably easier ways to go about getting her hands on a copy of the sacred text. The library, for one, was probably overflowing with books identical to the one she was currently holding. But going to Mother Giselle had seemed the right, while simultaneously being the most awkward, way to go about it. What better way to learn about religion than by a religious leader?

Tucking the tome under her arm, Delani decided to swing by Cullen’s office before attempting to memorize the verses of a faith that had played such a large role in taking away what little the Dalish had of their history. She banished that train of thought with a shake of her head. Her people were so quick to anger at the mention of all that they’d lost. Delani knew that righting those wrongs could not be done by perpetuating hate. The Chantry had its purpose, but now so did she. With time she would find a way to make things better for her people, and as the Herald of Andraste the Chantry would be forced to accept whatever changes she might bring.

With another shake of her head, she dismissed her wandering thoughts and climbed the stairs to the battlements. After a long day of paperwork Delani was desperate for Cullen’s company. She hoped that he would welcome the distraction like he usually did.

Things were a little strange now that their relationship had become sexual in nature. Did Delani give him more space now that she knew how many freckles he had on his back? Or did she give him less, since he’d seen her spread eagle before him? Perhaps things would just carry on naturally and comfortably, which was Delani’s hope. If they continued to be transparent and honest with each other it would help prevent any unnecessary awkwardness between them.

As she approached Cullen’s office, she realized how strange it would be to see her carrying around and Andrastian text. He knew that her faith was not in the Maker, if he saw her with the Chant it would ruin her surprise. Delani stopped a soldier as he strolled past and handed him the book. With instructions for the lad to return the tome to her chambers, Delani shooed the soldier off and closed the distance remaining between her and the door to Cullen’s office.

She pulled the door open only to find Cullen standing behind his desk, leaning his weight on it as he glared at a small wooden box open before him. He didn’t look up at to see who had entered his office, didn’t pry his gaze from that rectangular box to acknowledge her arrival. His shoulders were tense, his body was rigid. Something had happened since their wonderful morning together. Something was troubling him.

“Cullen?” her voice was soft as she announced her presence, cautious as she approached his desk. Eyeing the man carefully, she searched him for any outward signs of injury. He was a bit pale but, aside from that, he looked fine. “Is everything alright?”

He was silent for a moment before his features hardened with determination. Cullen’s voice was professional when he spoke to her, he was the Commander now, and she was the Inquisitor, and Delani’s heart fell into her stomach at the sound of it. As much as she wanted to know what this was about, a part of her was afraid that he was about to say something that she wouldn’t like.

Amber eyes looked up from the shaving kit to meet her gaze. There was a vulnerability in his golden irises that was quickly pushed back behind a wall of militant safeguards. “As leader of the Inquisition you—“ he faltered, pushing himself up off of his desk and standing with his hands on the pommel of his sword. Cullen carefully searched her features, and his mask slipped only a bit, the vulnerability and uncertainty back in his features.

Cullen sighed. His tone was beseeching when he said, “There’s something I must tell you.”

Her eyes narrowed as her heart beat accelerated. Suddenly Delani wasn’t standing in front of the man she lo— cared for immensely, anxiety had triggered her hunter instincts and now she was awaiting an attack. Not a physical attack from Cullen, but undoubtedly an emotional one; which was considerably worse, more often than not. The look in his eyes made her wary, and his tone made her nervous. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to hear what would come next, but something in his gaze kept her from fleeing.

“What is this about, Cullen?” she asked, brows furrowed and lips pulled into a thin line.

There was a tick in his jaw as he regarded her. His nostrils flared as a resolute sigh expelled from him. “Lyrium grants Templars our abilities, but it controls us as well. Those cut off suffer.” He held her gaze as his words rang with more than just truth, they rang with experience of the personal variety.

Brows still furrowed, Delani listened to him without interrupting. Though this was not the topic conversation she had guessed they would have, it was better than what she had anticipated would have transpired; which was him wanting to end things between them. Still a weight hung over her, an axe threatening to decapitate her resolve. This topic of lyrium and Templars was obviously weighing heavily on Cullen’s mind, and Delani wanted to know why.

Unaware of how anxious his behavior was making her, Cullen continued with his explanation. “Some go mad, other’s die. We have secured a reliable source of lyrium for the Templars here.” His gaze broke from her, uncertainty tightened his features. Clamping his eyes tightly shut, Cullen admitted, “But I no longer take it.”

Breath catching in her throat, Delani carefully regarded Cullen one more time. He looked to be doing well enough, but again she noticed how pale he was. Was he experiencing withdraws? Was he suffering? Madness and death did not seem like promising results for him to contend with.

Hands rolling up into fists at her sides, Delani tried to keep a neutral tone as she asked, “How long ago did you stop?” How long had he been suffering?

Cullen’s gaze was on the shaving kit again, where he had used to keep his lyrium, she assumed. “When I joined the Inquisition. It’s been months now.”

Her stomach turned. Months? He had been off of lyrium for months and this was the first time she was hearing about it? Anger started to eclipse her concern for him. Cullen had been hurting all this time without her even knowing it. How many times had he been in her company, smiling to mask the pain? How often did he hide his suffering from her?

Quick and ragged breaths started to wheeze in and out of her. Delani had thought that they’d agreed to be open and honest with each other at the beginning of their relationship. She had thought that they’d agreed to communicate with each other. Instead Cullen had hidden this from her. He had kept his decision to not take lyrium, and the consequences of that decision, from her. She swallowed hard, trying to fight her anger back down, but it was a losing battle. Delani felt lied to, she felt like he didn’t trust her. Delani felt worthless.

When she asked, “Why am I only just hearing about this?” it was with more bite than she intended.

“I meant to tell you sooner but it never came up,” was his lame explanation, words catching like kindling in the fire of Delani’s anger. Unaware of how upset she was, he continued, “After what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn’t. I will not be bound to the Order, or that life, any longer. Whatever the suffering, I accept it.”

Oh, how good for him, accepting his suffering. For the first time Delani was infuriated by a trait of his that she had always adored: his nobility. Cullen would suffer, had suffered, gladly if it meant breaking the ties to a life he no longer counted himself a part of. Delani knew that she should be voicing her support, offering her encouragement, but she was too infuriated to feel anything else. Months. It had been months. Their relationship, young as it was, had been going on for some time already, and yet this was the first she was hearing of it.

If he didn’t trust her as his lover, then he should have at least told her as the Commander to the Inquisitor. But Delani hadn’t even gotten that. Cullen didn’t trust her as his lover and he didn’t trust her as his superior. Cullen didn’t trust her, and it was a devastating realization.

He carried on over her thoughts. “I would not put the Inquisition at risk. I’ve asked Cassandra to watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised I will be relieved from duty.”

Her stomach rolled again with this new revelation. He had a plan in place, of course he did. And nowhere in that plan was she in play. He would suffer without Delani’s help. That had always been the plan, and the plan hadn’t changed. Delani knew this was bigger than her hurt feelings, but she couldn’t see past them. Her anger at Cullen was greater than her sympathy, louder than her concern.

Exhaling through her nose, Delani repeated her earlier question. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

Cullen’s brows furrowed at her biting tone. Carefully, he supplied, “The discussion and arrangement were made prior to your arrival.” His expression turned pleading, begging her to understand. “The matter was being managed, there was no reason to worry you with it.”

His words were like a slap to the face and Delani felt the sting of tears prick the backs for her eyes. They evaporated under the heat of her anger. Lip curling into a snarl, she challenged, “You mean other than the fact that I have shared everything with you? I was not aware that baring my body to you was insufficient cause for me to worry about you. I did not know that sharing part of my soul with you,” she gestured to her carving knife hanging from his belt, “did not make me important enough to know about this sooner.”

Finally realizing how his actions were affecting her, Cullen tried to reason with her. “Delani—“ only for her to cut him off.

“I’ve told you everything. I’ve shared everything with you.” The tears were finally stronger than her anger and they started to blur her vision. “I've shared my fears, my past, I told you about my greatest failure. I gave you the one treasure I have. I've given you my body and I’ve bared my soul to you. I’ve trusted you blindly and you—“ she blinked, trying to banish the tears from her sight but instead she sent them rolling down her cheeks. Quickly wiping her tears from her face, she quietly finished, “You don’t trust me at all.”

His mouth fell open with shock before he snapped it back shut. Cullen’s features were pained as he looked at her, apologetic. Starting for her, he rounded the desk and said, “Of course I trust you.”

Leaping a retreating step back, Delani pointed a finger at him in warning, pinning him in place. “No you don’t,” she spat back, taking his argument otherwise as an insult to her intelligence. Eyes sharp like knives she said, “You don’t trust me as your lover, and you don’t trust me as your leader.”

“Delani—“

“If you trusted me you would have told me,” she growled before he could try to rationalize his actions. “You would have wanted me to be a part of this decision. But you don’t. You don’t trust me to have your back on this. You don’t trust me to support you. You don’t trust that I will properly prioritize your needs, your desires, or your place in the Inquisition.”

With narrowed eyes, she ground out, “You don’t trust me,” and allowed the fresh fall of tears to stream down her cheeks uninterrupted.

Cullen shook his head, looking desperate to approach her but not wanting to provoke her further. Breathlessly, he admitted, “I should have told you sooner.”

“Yes,” she irritably agreed. “You should have. I’ve been Inquisitor longer than I’ve been your plaything, and I should have known that my general could potentially die or lose his mind.”

He flinched from her words as though they had caused him physical pain. Amber eyes searched her face for something he wouldn’t find. “You are not a plaything, Delani,” he insisted, fighting for ground she would not give.

Scoffing, she argued, “What else would I be?” She jumped another step back when he took another step toward her. “You obviously don’t consider me your equal, nor do you respect me as your superior. So where does that leave me? In your bed, but not your thoughts.”

“Delani, it’s not—“

“It is,” she threw back, not caring that she didn’t know what he was going to say. “I am not important enough to know this about you. I am not important enough to share your pain and your struggles with. You don’t trust me and it is because I am not important enough to you.” Her chest was heaving as her fury gave way to hysteria. This secret had hurt her more than she could have ever dreamed possible, and she could not let him see her like this.

When Cullen made a move to close the distance between them, Delani fled. She threw open the door to his office and ran faster than if Cullen had been the dread wolf himself. The mountain air was cold on her wet cheeks, nipping angrily at her skin as though scolding her for her weakness. Delani wiped the moisture from her face as she ran, not caring for the attention she was drawing. Her running feet didn’t stop until she threw open a gate, slammed it shut, and leaned her weight against it.

Delani was immediately greeted by a wet nose. Cornelius sniffed her face before rolling out his tongue and dragging it over her salted cheeks. Though disgusting and slimy, the red hart’s affectionate greeting was a much needed comfort.

She let him lick her cheeks one more time before gently pushing his muzzle away from her face. The disagreeing noise he made managed to pull a laugh out of her and Delani stroked the side of his face up to his soft ear. Patting the side of Cornelius’s neck, she wondered, “You’re not hiding anything from me. Are you, Cornelius?”

When he shook himself out, Delani smiled and went to grab a brush from the wall of his stable. “I didn’t think so.”

She went about brushing Cornelius, allowing her anger to fully disappear. Though she was still angry at Cullen for not telling her about the lyrium sooner, she was now able to think about how that decision was affecting him. Cullen wanted to move on from his past, from the man he had been before the Inquisition, and he was willing to go mad or die to do it. This was not a decision that he had made lightly. It was a decision whose consequences he suffered on a daily basis. Cullen wanted to give everything to the Inquisition.

Cornelius munched from his feeder as Delani brushed him down, happy to be pampered as she worked out her thoughts and emotions. How often had he found himself on the receiving end of her frustration? Too many times to count, though it didn’t seem like the hart minded all that much.

Running the brush over his coarse fur, Delani released the last of her anger with a sigh. She was calm enough now to recognize that she had overreacted to Cullen’s revelation, and that some of what she had said to him had been unfair. After she was done with Cornelius she would go to Cullen and they would talk properly.

Though she wouldn’t have to, because the Commander had sought her out first. Cornelius exhaled indignantly, pulling Delani’s attention from the hart and onto the man standing just outside of the stall. There was a pleading look on Cullen’s face as he held her gaze, an apology already present in his golden eyes.

“Delani,” his voice was tentative, careful not to spook her or set her off. “I understand that you are angry with me, but I’d like a chance to explain myself.”

Sighing, Delani moved her gaze back onto Cornelius before she nodded once and returned the brush to its place on the wall. She patted the hart on the neck one last time before leaving his stall and standing in front of Cullen. Examining the regret in his handsome features, Delani admitted with another sigh, “I need to apologize to you first.”

A surprised expression lifted Cullen’s features and she nodded that he had heard her right. “I made your admission about me. I took insult to being the last one to know and let my feelings get hurt by a decision that had nothing to do with me.” Holding Cullen’s gaze so that he could see the sincerity in her eyes, hear it in her voice, she finished, “I’m sorry for how poorly and harshly I reacted.”

Cullen shook his head incredulously, as though he couldn't quite believe that she would admit to her own shortcomings. Cupping Delani’s face in his hands, he stared down at her and breathlessly replied, “I am the one who needs to apologize. I should have told you sooner. I should have told you the moment you became Inquisitor, but my own fears and weakness kept the words inside.” Thumbing over her cheekbones, he continued to stare down at her, regret still clear in his eyes.

He shook his head with shame and his lips twisted as he considered how best to explain himself. “I was afraid that you would think less of me, that you would think me a fool for needlessly subjecting myself to withdrawal. I was afraid that you would disagree with my decision, because I will not be able to do this without your support.”

Her heart broke for him. She had lashed out so terribly against him when he needed her support above all else, not her ire. “Oh, Cullen,” she breathed, wrapping her hands around his bracer covered wrists. “I do support you. I think that what you are doing is incredibly brave, and I respect your decision.”

His expression softened and he let out a breath of relief. “Thank you, Delani,” he whispered before pressing his forehead to hers. Delani closed her eyes to enjoy his warmth but before she could he pulled away again. A serious expression had taken shape on his face as he regarded her. Before she could ask what had caused his sudden change, he explained it to her.

“You are not a plaything to me, Delani.” His voice was serious, unbending, leaving no room for doubt. “I trust you with my life. The mistake of not sharing my withdrawal with you was made out of fear and will not be made again. You were right to be angry with me. You’ve trusted me with every aspect of your life, while I kept a piece of me hidden from you. But that was not because I don’t trust you or care about you. It is because there are some parts of me that are not ready to be shared yet. I ask that you be patient with me, and that you try to understand.”

Delani moved her hands from his wrists to the front of his cloak and nodded that he had both her patience and understanding. “I do understand, vhenan’ara.” She would wait as long as it took to know this man completely, even the darkest parts that he couldn’t yet bear to share. Delani would be patient because he was worth the wait.

A small smile tugged at the edges of his mouth, and Cullen said, “Good, because you are the most important person in my life, and I will not be able to persevere without you. I… care about you, Delani, more than you can possibly know.”

Pursing her lips, she dared to argue, “I’m sure I have an idea.”

He huffed in amusement before crushing his lips against hers, stealing the breath straight from her lungs. The kiss was apologetic, it was forgiving, it was all-consuming. Delani hummed happily against his mouth, allowing herself to be pulled in by his heat. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed her body against his and felt a match light up in her belly. Unfortunately, Cullen pulled away before that match could set her insides ablaze with desire, and Delani bit back her protesting whine.

Cullen placed a kiss on the tip of her nose before releasing her from his hold. When Delani asked, “Are you up for a drink at the tavern?” it was to be met with disappointment.

He shook his head. “I have to go check on something.” Unable to resist her pleading pout, a grin expanded over his lips and he acquiesced. “Order me a drink and save me a seat. I’ll meet you there once I’m done.”

Returning his grin with a victorious one of her own, Delani assured him, “I’ll be waiting,” before pressing another quick kiss to his lips and leaving him behind in the stables. First Delani was going to get Cullen nice and drunk, and then she was going to seduce him into her bed. She had to show him how sorry she was, after all.

Cullen entered the rotunda hoping that he would find Solas at his desk and not in the middle of a magical debate with Dorian. Much to his relief, the apostate was in the atrium, painting on its walls with the rookery’s cawing giving music to his work. Cullen bit back his nerves and embarrassment as he approached the elf.

“Solas,” he said, pulling the other man’s attention from his task. When blue eyes met amber, Cullen explained his purpose. “I was hoping to speak with you.”

Solas turned from his task to face Cullen completely. Eyebrow arched with curiosity, he wondered, “What can I do for you, Commander?”

Throwing a glance up at the library’s bannister, Cullen made sure that Dorian wasn’t snooping before he took a step closer to Solas and softly wondered, “How do I say ‘I love you’ in Elvish?”

Chapter Text

Ma Atishan,

Word of your impending arrival fills me with great relief. Skyhold is too quiet without you here and, even filled with people and soldiers, it feels empty when you’re gone. The children ask after you, you know? Somedays I go to visit them during their lessons and they bombard me with questions about when Lady Delani will return and if she will have more prizes. You’ve left quite the impression, and I cannot say that I am surprised. It is impossible to not feel changed by the light of your company. You are inspiring, and that cannot be helped.

There is a surprise awaiting you upon your arrival. But first, I want you to enjoy the hot bath that I will have ready for you, and the warm meal that will be set aside on your desk. I’ve made sure to remind everyone that you are not to be bothered with paperwork, so you will be free to decompress and relax from your travels. After you’ve bathed, and eaten, and relaxed, I want you to be ready for me, Delani. Because I have missed you, and I will show you just how much. I will relearn every inch of you. I will reclaim your every curve and valley with my lips, my tongue, and my hands. You do remember how adept those can be, don’t you?

Watching you leave Skyhold’s safety grows more difficult each time, but the anticipation of your arrival nearly eclipses it. I have been without your warmth for too long already, do not make me wait a second longer than is necessary.

Your heart’s desire,
Cullen

Delani reread the letter for the thousandth time, her heart fluttering, her blood warming, an excited blush coating her features as strongly as it had the first time she’d read his letter. She wanted to smell the parchment, to hug it to her chest and squeal unnatural noises. The things that Cullen made her feel were unreal. He was unreal. Surely a man like him could not actually exist and also be hers. She was undeserving.

“Scar,” Varric groaned from across the ashes of the put out camp fire. The smile in his eyes only hinted in his voice when he spoke. “Could you do us all a favor and keep the giggling to a minimum today? You’re making my teeth ache.”

Dorian emerged from his tent in time to join their conversation. “Or, at the very least, let us read what all the fuss is about.” Simpering playfully at Delani, he admitted, “I want to giggle girlishly too.”

Intaking an offended gasp, Delani rebuked, “I do not giggle girlishly,” as she started to refold the letter again and tuck it into the pocket of her pack.

“Is there any other way to giggle?” wondered Cassandra, armored to the teeth and ready to set back out on their journeys and return to Skyhold.

“Ferociously,” Delani supplied. “Maniacally, intimidatingly, anything but girlishly.”

Dorian and Varric shared a look before a grin expanded over the Tevinter mage’s face, and the dwarf simply shook his head. Twirling his mustache, Dorian gave Delani a knowing look and stated, “Dear Inquisitor, you are about as lovestruck as it gets. Why not just admit to the class that you are head over heels in love with the Commander?”

She immediately clammed up. When Delani admitted those words it would be to Cullen and not these vagabonds. And she would admit to those feelings, because they were too strong for her to continue to deny them to herself. As soon as Delani was back in Skyhold, after her bath and her meal, and whatever surprise Cullen had in store for her, she was going to tell him the truth. She was going to tell him that she loved him to the very core of her being. It didn’t matter if he said the words back —although she hoped that he would— the only thing that mattered was that he knew that he alone had possession of her heart.

“And how goes your relationship with a certain Tal Vashoth friend of ours, Dorian?” Cassandra asked in Delani’s defense and Delani could have kissed her. She would spare Cassandra the embarrassment, and that would have to be thanks enough.

Arching a perfectly maintained eyebrow in challenge, Dorian returned, “Do you truly want to get onto the topic of romantic lives, Cassandra? Because I don’t think that you do.”

“I don’t know, Sparkler,” Varric’s smooth voice rumbled with a chuckle. “The Seeker enjoys enough romance to fill a book. Don’t you Seeker?”

Cassandra’s lips immediately thinned and the noise that fell through her clenched teeth was disgusted. Delani smiled at their playful repartee as she made sure that all of her armor was in place and that she wasn’t leaving any of her possessions behind. The previous night had been the last one that they would spend away from Skyhold, and she was eager to return to the fortress for more reasons than just her reunion with Cullen; though, admittedly, he was what she was most looking forward to.

Her bed, for one, was beckoning her even now. She could not wait to sleep on the firm mattress, swaddled by her thick down feather comforter and pillows. These long nights spent on her bedroll were doing terrible things to her back. Once she was tucked into her bed not even the highest of high dragons would be able to pull her from between the sheets. It was going to be glorious.

As she fastened the straps of her boots, Delani’s ears twitched. She felt a shift in the atmosphere. The air had suddenly become heavier, causing her hairs to stand on end. Tilting her head a bit, she strained to listen to the world around them, searching for sounds of fennecs and nugs running between the trees, of birds serenading the sunrise and hopping from branch to branch. The world was still, holding its breath. Delani had been a hunter long enough to know when she had become the hunted. She’d been tracked by enough wolves and wildcats to be familiar with the feeling of a predator’s eyes weighing on her shoulders.

Without looking up from her boots, Delani softly asked the dwarf, “Is Bianca ready, Varric?”

There was a note of caution in his voice when he replied, “Always, Scarlett.” He and the others finally noticed the tension in her features, and were starting to react in kind.

To Dorian, Delani instructed, “Slowly reach for your staff. Do not make any sudden movements.”

Cassandra, frank and brave to a fault, had a more difficult time feigning nonchalance. “What is it, Inquisitor?” Her grip was tight on the hilt of her sword, ready to unsheathe it at a moment’s notice.

“We’re about to be ambushed,” Delani released the buckles of her boots and stood to her feet, trying to act as casually as she could while stretching her senses in search of their pursuers. If none of them reacted they would have the element of surprise on their side. Their enemy wasn’t expecting them to be prepared for an attack, and when they stormed into the clearing it would be to be met by ready and eager opponents.

When Delani noticed that Cassandra was about to furiously scope the area, she hissed, “Don’t,” before the other woman could. With all of her companions’ attention on her, Delani instructed them to, “Keep a loose grip on your weapons and carry on as you normally would.”

As if to emphasize how casually she wanted them to behave, she reached for her pack and slipped her arms through the straps. “When these bastards attack they won’t expect us to be ready for them. Dorian, we’re all going to need a barrier.”

Pulling his staff into his lap, Dorian casually tilted it as he summoned the spell. There was a ripple of energy, a surge of power that cascaded down her body and made her hairs stand on end. Rolling her shoulders, Delani started to move toward the edge of camp, ready for the fun to begin, and felt the side of her mouth twitch at the sound of a dozen voices roaring a fierce battle cry.

An arrow zipped toward her, aimed to be buried in the flesh of her shoulder, but was deflected by Dorian’s protective barrier. Humans ran into the clearing, bandits with heavy weapons storming the camp and into battle. They were met by force. Cassandra greeted them with a ferocious roar, pulling attention onto herself before stepping in front of Dorian and lifting her shield to protect him from incoming arrows.

Behind them, Varric was releasing a storm of bolts, stopping the bandits before they were able to flank the camp. Throwing down a smoke bomb, Delani faded into the battle and danced around, lithely moving through their attackers. Blood misted in the air as her daggers were met with throats, buried in chests, or sliced between vertebrae. With each step a life was taken, a bandit fell lifeless on the forest floor. But there were too many.

Despite Varric’s best efforts, they were surrounded. The bandits had come in number and were prepared to be met with force. For every human that fell three more took his place. Delani searched for her companions on the battlefield. Cassandra was surrounded by half a dozen men, blood pouring from her hairline down the side of her face. Determination was fiery in her brown eyes. Dorian had summoned the dead to defend him. Bandits were fighting against their fallen brethren, trying to get to him before he tore them down with his magic. Varric was a blur, throwing down smoke bombs only to reappear out of range and take down more and more men with his crossbow.

Sweat and blood were falling from her companions. Delani had wanted them to be ready for an ambush, but she had not expected one of this magnitude. They fought tooth and nail for a foothold, to sway the tides of battle, but there were only four of them. Despite their skill, despite their teamwork, despite how hard they fought to cut down the enemy, there were just too many bandits.

A searing pain slashed through Delani’s shoulder. She rolled forward, gritting against the pain of her injured shoulder hitting the ground. Untucking a throwing knife from her belt, she sent it flying into her assailant’s eye socket. Four men came charging at her, swords drawn, ready for blood, and she reached for her grenade belt. She had one last bottle of Antivan Fire, she had to make it count. Gaze darting to where Cassandra was surrounded by even more men now, Delani pulled the grenade from her belt and threw it between the feet of Cassandra’s attackers.

Delani’s four pursuers were behind her now, swords swinging a hairs breath from her spine. Without warning, Delani fell onto her knees and lifted her arms with the blades of her daggers pointed backwards. Two bandits ran into her daggers, the sharp blades slashing through their femoral arteries and rolled back before the remaining two could retaliate with a swing of their blades. She freed another pair of throwing knives and sent them soaring into the back of the bandits’ necks. The two men hit the ground with a thump.

When Delani was on her feet again it was to help Varric, who was currently using a bolt as a knife and burying it into eyes, ripping it out, into throats, pulling it free, into ears, only for another bandit to come at him for more once his last opponent was dead. She came skidding to a halt when a beast of a man stepped out in front of her, an enormous mallet slung casually over his shoulder as he stared down at Delani and laughed. Delani took in a sharp breath, assessing the situation.

If she engaged this monster in battle she would surely lose. He was twice her size and thicker than an elder tree. He would break every bone in her body with a single swing of that mallet and that would be the end of it. Delani did not have the stamina to fight him, she didn’t have any bombs left, her throwing knives would do next to no damage. All she had was her speed, and that would only help her get away from him, it wouldn’t help her fight.

Deciding that running was her only option, she twisted out of reach and ran across the battlefield. Delani’s eyes searched the forest clearing for her companions, and her already racing heart flew into the pit of her gut. Cassandra was down with Dorian kneeling over her, his leg broken, blood spilling into his eyes, summoning his spells at a desperate and frantic pace.

Where’s Varric, she searched the campsite, jumping over corpses as she tried to get within range of her other two companions. Delani couldn’t find Varric. Was he already grounded? Was he dead? Her heart plummeted from her stomach to her toes, and Delani forced the thought from her mind. No, he wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead. They were going to make it out of this. She had gotten them out of worse. She would get them out of this too.

A bolt of electricity shot through Dorian’s fingers as he sagged lower and lower to the ground, manna spent, energy fleeting. A soldier stepped up in front of the mage, blocking Delani’s view of him. She reached for the belt where she kept her throwing knives only to find it empty. Fenedhis!

“Dorian!” she screamed, watching in horror as the bandit lifted his sword.

A pain jostled through her, starting at the back of her head before spreading through her skull like ink. One moment she was running toward Dorian, ready to throw herself onto the bandit to protect her friend, and the next her eyesight was completely blacked out. Delani felt herself fall to the ground, she felt her breath spilled from her lungs, she felt it as consciousness retracted from her body and sent her into a realm of shadows and nothingness.

Excitement sparked through him like shocks of static electricity. Delani was due to arrive any moment now and nearly everything was ready for her. There was only one last thing that he needed. Cullen descended the steps from the main hall to the undercroft. The mountain air was coldest here, even with Harritt’s furnace constantly burning, ready to make whatever weapons Delani required.

The blacksmith had been surprised when it was Cullen who had commissioned him, even more so when he discovered what it was that Cullen wanted him to make. Harritt was a fine blacksmith and he crafted some of the sturdiest, well designed weapons and armor Cullen had seen. Cullen trusted no one else with this project, he only hoped that the smith had been able to finish before Delani returned from her travels.

“Hey, Commander!” Dagna happily greeted him, skipping from where she’d been standing near the crafting table to meet him at the bottom of the steps. The small dwarf woman grinned up at Cullen, eyes alight with an enthusiasm for life that was equal parts enviable and mildly grating.

Offering the stout woman a soft smile, he replied, “Greetings, Enchanter Dagna,” and started to where Harritt was standing on the other side of the room.

She kept pace beside him, two steps for each one of his. “So, I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of improving your design for Inquisitor Lavellan’s gift.”

Cullen stopped short and turned to face the small woman. Features ironed out with distaste, he bit out, “You what?”

“I made it better,” she lifted her hands in self defense. Gesturing to the other human man across the room, Dagna told him to, “Ask Harritt! Before it was functional, now it’s fantastical.”

Gruffly, Harritt joined their conversation on Dagna’s behalf. “It’s true, Commander. The dwarf knows how to work an enchantment into damn near anything. I’d say it was blood magic but she doesn’t really have the talent for it.”

Nodding that Cullen had heard the truth of it, she proudly pursed her lips and asked, “Have you ever heard higher praise come from that man’s mouth?” Grinning, Dagna jumped up and down on her toes, her excitement was infectious. “The Inquisitor is going to love it! I’m so excited for her to see it! Can you bring her here? Can I watch her open it?”

Before he could answer any of Dagna’s numerous questions, Harritt turned with a familiar, long wooden box in hand. There were elvish designs carved into the wood, branches and swirls, leafs and runes. The box’s lid was carved with ancient Dalish text, words that Cullen didn’t understand but Solas assured him was a prayer of protection to Mythal.

Cullen had offered to buy the box from Solas, but the apostate refused. Knowing what Cullen intended to do with it had made the male elf hand it over freely. “If it helps to put your mind at ease, Commander, even I am a little in love with you right now,” Solas had said, an approving smile on his lips as he parted with what was obviously a treasure.

As Cullen took the box from Harritt, the blacksmith admitted, “That there may not be one of my most complex pieces, but it is my favorite.” Glancing to where Dagna was still vibrating with excitement, a hint of a smile edged the corners of his mouth. “You’ll let us know how the Inquisitor likes it.”

It wasn’t a question, but Cullen nodded in answer regardless. “Of course,” he also glanced at Dagna and the smile that spread over his lips was more pronounced than Harritt’s. “I don’t think our enchanter would let me get away without a detailed account of Lady Lavellan’s reaction.”

“Ancestors’ hairy butt cheeks, I wouldn’t,” Dagna fervently agreed. “She’s going to love it.”

He sure hoped so. Cullen thanked both of them before leaving them in the undercroft and climbing the steps back to the main hall. Nervous excitement was coursing through him like current’s of electricity, making him fidgety. He hoped that Delani would arrive soon, if only to get this over with so that he could finally see how she would like her gift.

She’d been gone from Skyhold for nearly a month. Three weeks and a day to be precise. She and her companions had left in search of supplies for the Inquisition, looking for lodging and mining sites where they could gather resources so that the Inquisition could continue to rebuild and expand.

Being without her had grown more and more unbearable by the day. Already Cullen was at his wits end, patience gone, anxiety through the roof, and his men could tell. They visibly relaxed when he walked past the training grounds without stopping, and gave him a wide berth when he stalked past. Messengers were quick to the point, presenting all the details without having to be asked for them, because should he ask they would have to suffer his ire. Delani’s return was almost as much of a relief for the soldiers under his command as it was for him. At least with the Inquisitor back at Skyhold, their commander would have a decent distraction.

Once he was in the main hall, Cullen started for the atrium. He had promised to show Delani’s surprise to Solas as payment for the wooden box. And, honestly, he was too excited to keep it to himself. Halfway down the hall, the door to the rotunda opened and Leliana quickly found him walking her way.

“Cullen,” she said, a shadow in her eyes that immediately set him on edge.

Cullen’s feet picked up in pace and he met her part way. The second Leliana was in earshot, he asked, “Is it the Inquisitor?”

She nodded curtly, the gesture grave, tearing his heart right out of his chest and ripping it in two. Before he could ask, she grabbed him by the arm and turned him around. They were heading for Josephine’s office, to the war room. Whatever had happened demanded strategy, but right then Cullen didn’t care. All he cared about was what in the Void happened to Delani.

“Leliana,” he growled, not liking being left to wait, not when it came to Delani. “Tell me what happened.”

She shook her head, resolute. Looking around at the nobles littering the main hall, she murmured, “Not here,” under her breath and ushered him into Josie’s office.

The Antivan woman was at her desk, rapidly scribbling on her parchment as she wrote to this delegate or that noble. She didn’t immediately acknowledge their arrival until the tension emanating from Cullen in tsunami sized waves hit her. Looking up from her quill, she was met by the serious faces of the other two advisors. Looking from Cullen to Leliana, she reluctantly asked, “What happened?”

“Yes, Leliana, what happened?” Cullen demanded, crossing his arms in front of his chest and turning to face the spy master.

Without looking at him, Leliana handed him a piece of rolled up parchment. As he unrolled the paper to read what was written inside, she explained the message to Josie. “The camp west of Lake Calenhad was attacked.”

Josephine gasped, pressing her fingers to her mouth as she shook her head in disbelief. “Isn’t that where the Inquisitor last made camp?”

Cullen grit his teeth, fighting back the nausea quaking in his gut. He reread the message, the words making less and less sense with each recounting. The camp had been attacked, the Inquisitor and her team were ambushed, the soldiers stationed there had been killed. Cassandra, Dorian, and Varric had all sustained serious injuries but they were alive. His insides were twisting into knots, his stomach rolling, anxiety, desperation, paralyzing terror were all sharpening their nails on the lining of his stomach. The bodies of Inquisition soldiers and the bandits had all been identified. Delani was not among them. She was missing.

“She’s gone,” he crushed the parchment in his fist before punching the wall. His emotions were wild inside of him, ferocious. They could not be repressed, they would not be tampered down. Delani had been met with violence, attacked in the safety of camp, and Cullen’s instincts demanded that he retaliate to the violence in kind. Someone had thought to take Delani, to harm her, and the cost of that mistake would be blood. He would find whoever was responsible for this, and he would kill them. He would get Delani back, he would protect her.

It wasn’t until Leliana’s voice broke through the thick wall of fury and panic that he realized that he had not stopped punching the wall. His knuckles were bleeding, probably broken, and he didn’t care. When he pulled his fist from the wall, Cullen’s hand was shaking, his entire body was convulsing with outrage and terror. Delani was missing, she’d been abducted, and he was doing nothing to find her.

“What do we know,” he asked Leliana, leaving Josephine’s office with rushed and determined strides. Staring down at the wooden box still held in his hand, Cullen clenched his eyes shut and refused to look at it again. It was meant for Delani, a surprise, but now it caused him to feel unbearable dread. What if she never got the chance to open the box? What if he never got the chance to tell her that he loved her?

Cullen was pleased that Leliana and Josephine were both quick on his heels, following him into the war room where they gathered around the table to strategize what their next move would be.  Leliana set down a marker on the location of where the attacked camp was on the map. He set Delani’s gift down on the table, trying to ignore it as he inspected the map and worried over what would happen next. The three advisors shared an apprehensive look before they set to work.

“I’ve already sent our best trackers to investigate the campsite and determine which direction the attackers went,” Leliana stated with a seriousness about her that Cullen had only seen once before, after Divine Justina V’s death, and he appreciated that she was taking this as seriously as he did. Holding her hands behind her back, she finished, “With any luck, we will be able to intercept them and rescue the Inquisitor.”

It wasn’t enough. Delani was alive, she had to be alive, and her life was in danger. They needed to pour every last one of their resources into finding her. Staring at the map, Cullen said, “We need to station checkpoints on every major highway and well traveled road. No one will pass between here and the Amaranthine Sea without our knowledge.”

“I will send messages to every Bann, Tyrn, and city mayor asking that they lend us men and assistance with these checkpoints.” Josephine looked from Cullen to Leliana before observing, “Word will spread that the Inquisitor is missing. People will know that we are at our weakest.”

Eyes narrowing with dangerous outrage, Cullen growled, “It doesn’t matter, Josephine. The only thing that matters is bringing Delani home!”

Leliana reached out to Cullen and placed a placating hand on his arm. When Cullen shrugged her off of him, her lips thinned and she assured him, “We will bring her home, Cullen. But we have to find her first.”

He scraped his nails through his hair and clasped his eyes tightly shut. A migraine was starting to take shape in his skull. Great, exactly what he needed on top of everything else. Irritably scratching the back of his head, Cullen stated, “I’m going to the camp. I need to hear from Cassandra and the others. I need to know exactly what happened.”

When Josephine started to argue, “Cullen, I don’t think that—“ it was Leliana that cut her off.

“It is only a few hours travel, Josie. He needs to go.” She looked at Cullen, holding his gaze, understanding shining in her blue eyes. Lifting her chin in a dismissing gesture, she said, “Go. Talk to them, find out what happened. Maybe it’ll help us better understand who we are dealing with.”

Cullen did not need to be told twice. Gathering the box from the war table’s surface, he left the two women in the war room and headed for his office. He would stash Delani’s gift before readying Delilah and leaving Skyhold. Urgency quickened his pace, panic narrowed his focus. Delani was missing. The love of his life was gone. She was alone and she was in danger. Cullen needed to find her. He needed to bring her home.

Pain throbbed through her cranium like waves crashing against a jagged cliffside. Delani’s head rolled to the side and a soft groan escaped her. The pain was not only in her head, but in her shoulder as well. She hurt all over. Why did she hurt all over?

She could feel the earth move beneath her, could hear the steady clop of hooves scraping over the ground. Delani searched her mind for her most recent memory. The images came with some difficulty. The last thing she remembered was her camp being attacked. She and her team had been ambushed by bandits. Varric had been missing from the battlefield, Cassandra had been grounded, and Dorian had been on his knees on top of her, protecting her from the bandits. Her last memory was of a bandit stepping in front of Dorian and lifting his sword.

Urgency forced her eyes open, but she was met by darkness. Trying to blink the blackness from her eyes, panic started to form inside of her when her vision didn’t return. Delani was blind. Creators, she had lost her eyesight. Swallowing down the panic that threatened to consume her whole, Delani tested the rest of her senses.

Trying to move her hands, she discovered that she was bound at the wrists. Her shackles were made of rope, not iron, which meant that even if the knots were tight she would be able to cut through them. Her ears twitched as she forced herself to listen. Upon the discovery of someone breathing over her shoulder, she realized that the warmth against her back was someone holding on to her as they rode. She was on a horse, secured against some bandit’s chest, bound and blind but far from helpless.

Concentrating on the horse, Delani judged that they were moving at a casual pace, slow and steady. She felt the horse’s hooves hit the ground, feeling the distance between the saddle and the earth beneath them. It was a standard breed, tall, but not overwhelmingly so. Testing her binds one more time, Delani formulated a plan.

She counted to ten, taking slow and steady breaths as she prepared herself for what would come next. When she got to ten, Delani threw her head back with enough force to break the nose of the man who had her pinned against him. Immediately his grip on her slackened, a surprised curse ripping through his throat as Delani launched herself from the horse. She landed on the ground with a roll, wincing at the sharp pain in her shoulder.

The moment that Delani’s feet were on the ground she took off running. She couldn’t see where she was going, she didn’t know where she was, but she needed to put as much distance between her and these bandits as she could. With her bound hands held in front of her, Delani sprinted, stumbling over roots, her face and arms getting scratched up by low hanging tree branches. She got as far as a hundred feet before an arctic chill froze her muscles and held her in place.

Delani cursed. The bandits had a fucking mage. Fenedhis. She heard them as they dismounted their horses and started for her position. An authoritative voice shouted at the others, “The Inquisitor has the right idea. We should make camp.”

She stayed frozen like that for some time, listening as the bandits moved around her, feeling the warmth of a fire being started, smelling the smoke waft over her. When finally the mage who had held her in winter’s grasp snapped his fingers and freed her from her prison, Delani fell to her knees and was dragged some distance toward the camp fire.

She was unceremoniously thrown onto the ground. Her hair was tugged, her head pulled back as a sack was removed from her head. Delani let loose a sigh of relief at the discovery that she hadn’t lost her eyesight. Being blind would have made escape much more difficult, and revenge even more so. With her eyesight restored she could properly teach these shemlan imbeciles why capturing her had been the singular worst mistake of their entire lives.

Delani looked around the camp, counting the bandits and locating their weapons. There were fifteen of them, probably the only survivors left after their ambush on her camp. Soon they would be reunited with the others in the afterlife. Delani just had to figure out how she was going to get free first.

There was a man casually lounging across the fire, staring at her as she examined the camp’s every detail for later reference. There was a smirk on his lips, intelligence in his sharp blue eyes.  Obviously, he was the one in charge of this soon-to-be-dead group of bandits. Good, she would save him for last.

When she had stored every detail she could about the camp and its inhabitants to memory, Delani moved her attention to the man across the fire. Even laying lazily as he was, it was easy to tell that he was a tall man. He was of medium build with minimal muscle definition in his exposed arms. His brown hair was combed back, and the beginnings of a beard warmed his jawline. He was tan, with warm brown undertones, the contrast to the blue of his eyes was startling. If the context of their meeting had been different, Delani might have called him handsome. Meeting his acquaintance the way that she had, however, allowed her to recognize the darkness in his eyes as malice, menace, and not roguish charm.

“So you’re what all the fuss is about,” he said, his accent was Ferelden. Eyeing her curiously, he shrugged his shoulders as though he were unimpressed by the sight of her. “You look like just another savage knife ear to me.” He glanced over his shoulders to the other men loitering around the camp and wondered, “Doesn’t she, boys?”

They made a series of agreeing noises before he returned his attention to Delani. Quirking a thick eyebrow, the man stated, “You have to be the most expensive rabbit in all of Thedas.”

And he was the biggest idiot. He had better hope that Delani didn’t get her hands on something sharp, because the moment she cut her hands free she was going to kill every last one of them.

The man sat up, a goading smile on his lips as he wondered, “What, got nothing to say?” A wicked smile carved over his mouth and he tilted his head as he made a suggestion. “How about an apology? You broke Wayne’s nose. That wasn’t very nice of you.”

She felt the air shift behind her and cringed internally when a man lowered himself to his haunches and brought his mouth to her ear. There was a grin in his voice when he said, “I can think of a way you can make it up to me.” He moved her hair over her shoulder exposing her neck to him, and Delani threw her head back again, knocking her skull into his already tender nose.

Wayne fell onto his ass behind her and Delani scowled at him over her shoulder. Pinning him with an infuriated glare, she warned, “Don’t you fucking touch me.”

The human pulled himself back upright before stomping back to where Delani was kneeling. Roughly gripping her by the back of the neck, he warned, “Bash your head into my face one more time, you knife ear bitch. I dare you.”

Delani simply bared her teeth at him, showing the human how little he scared her. When Wayne released her with a shove, she caught herself before she fell face first into the dirt. Peering past the curtain of auburn hair at the bearded man across the fire, Delani wondered, “Who are you?”

“Oh, that’s right. We skipped the introductions didn’t we?” The man beat the heel of his palm into his forehead as if he were scolding himself for being so forgetful. A whimsical smile flashed over his lips as he regarded her and Delani was eager to rip it right off of his face. Placing a hand on his chest, the man started, “My name is Ayden McGregor, and these are the Faceless Few. You’ve already met Wayne, the others aren’t really interested in getting friendly.”

She ground her teeth as she eyed over Ayden. Delani had never heard of the Faceless Few. Thedas was full of small time criminals and mercenary bands. It was impossible to keep up with them all. It hardly mattered what these men decided to call themselves. They wouldn’t survive the night, and then no one would remember their names.

“What do you want?” she asked, wondering why these men had captured her alive instead of just killing her with the others. Delani banished the thought. Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian were alive. They had to be alive. She didn’t know what she would do if she’d gotten them killed. Delani would never forgive herself.

Ayden scratched his scruff, a lazy smile on his face as he answered her question. “I want what every man wants. To retire on a beach without a care in the world, surrounded by women and luxury.” Smile growing, he pointed at Delani before explaining, “And you are how I’m going to get that.”

Leaning back on the bedroll behind him, he cradled his head in his hands and grinned at Delani. Quirking an inquisitive eyebrow, he asked, “Tell me, knife ear, who do you think will pay the most for you; your precious Inquisition, or the Venatori?”

So it was a ransom that they were after. These fools had thought to whisk her away into the night and hold her hostage in trade for payment. Delani shook her head, pitying these men for the fate they had volunteered upon themselves. Their first mistake was ambushing her camp. Their second mistake was killing her friends —injuring her friends, they were still alive— and their biggest mistake was tying her up with rope. Rope could be cut through, all Delani needed was a knife.

“It doesn’t matter,” Delani said in answer to Ayden’s question, shrugging to emphasize just how little his question had concerned her. “You’re not going to see a single copper of that ransom money.”

Ayden grinned, delighted by her spunk. “Oh?” he asked. “And why’s that?”

She held his gaze as she supplied, “Because I’m going to kill every last one of you.”

“That’s some mighty big talk coming from someone in your position.”

Shrugging, she rebuked, “I’m exactly where I want to be, shem.” Dangerously narrowing her eyes, Delani allowed a wolfish grin to expand over her lips, watching as Ayden’s eyes slightly widened at the sight of the promise in her gaze. “It’ll make killing you a lot easier.”

A laugh burst out of Ayden, heartfelt and amused. He wiped a tear from his eye as though Delani’s promises of violent retaliation were nothing more than a joke to him. When his laughter subsided, he smiled at Delani and shook his head. “I don’t think you fully appreciate the precariousness of your current position.”

“And I don’t think that you recognize that the only one in a precarious position is you.”

Ayden lifted his gaze from Delani to the human that was still standing behind her. “Wayne,” he said. “How would you like to show this knife ear the danger of making idle threats?”

There was nothing idle about Delani’s threats. They were promises. These men were fools, and they were about to be dead. She was just biding her time until she found an opening, and then she was going to repay them for their hospitality, and she was going to find her way back to Skyhold where she would allow Cullen to help her forget that this night had ever happened.

Her heart lurched at the thought of Cullen. She wondered if word of her disappearance had reached him yet. She hoped not, she didn’t want him to worry. As soon as she was done with these morons she would be back in his arms. They’d be together again and she would tell him that she loved him, not letting another day go by without saying the words. Delani would get the chance to tell him how she felt. She couldn’t die without him knowing.

Behind her, Wayne excitedly shuffled his feet as he answered Ayden’s question. “I’d like that very much, McGregor.”

Ayden vaguely gestured at Delani with a wave of his hand and the instructions, “Have at it, my friend. She’s all yours.”

Delani braced herself as Wayne circled around her. His feet were the first thing that came into view and her gaze stopped at his belt at the sight of the knife tucked safely at his waist. She fought back a grin. This idiot. She prepared herself for his assault, readied her body for the pain that was about to come. When the human grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled his arm back, she held her arms up between them as though asking for mercy.

She knew that this beast would show her no mercy, it wasn’t what she had been after in the first place. The second that Wayne’s fist made contact with her face her vision flashed white and pain exploded through her cheek. He had likely broken her cheekbone. Delani tried her best to ignore the pain, bracing herself for his second punch. With her fingers on his belt, the second that his fist came powering down on her face, the force of his attack helped her to pull the knife free from its sheath.

Before he, or the many onlookers, could notice what she’d done, Delani tucked the knife into the space between her wrists. A smile finally broke free over her lips. Wayne could beat her bloody, but it wouldn’t save him. He was going to be the first one to die, and it was going to be slow and painful. She would repay him for this, Delani would repay him seven times over.

Chapter Text

“Tell me what happened,” Cullen demanded as he stood in front of Delani’s wounded companions.

Cullen had led a small platoon of soldiers, accompanied by Iron Bull, to the campsite where Delani had last been seen. They had been met by death, bodies of bandits and a few Inquisition soldiers were strewn about. The battle that had taken place here was hard fought. Everywhere he looked he could see evidence of Delani’s skills as a rogue.

The grass was charred by Antivan fire, broken glass from smoke bombs and healing potions littered the campsite. Many of the bodies had fatal puncture wounds or slashed arteries. Delani fought smart and she fought hard, it came as no surprise to him that she had taken down as many bandits as she had.

Iron Bull had rushed to Dorian the moment that they dismounted, hurrying to the mage to check him over and feel for himself that he was alive and would be fine. Cullen envied him for it. How he longed to hold Delani, to look into her sea green eyes and see for himself that she was alright. But he couldn’t, and it was killing him. Not knowing if she was even still alive hurt more than a blade to the heart. Cullen had to find her. He had to get her back.

Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian were bandaged and splinted, an arm cradled in a sling here, a crutch to help support their weight there. They were a mess, and Cullen was relieved that they had survived the encounter at all. That relief did not fracture his worry for Delani. She was missing and he had to find her. Cullen needed all the information that they could give him.

He was standing in front of Dorian, who was currently being treated to a protective shoulder rub from Iron Bull. Dorian’s leg was in a splint, broken, and his bare chest was bruised and bandaged. There was a long gash on his hairline that had received stitches, and Cullen knew that Dorian would curse the scar it left behind until the end of time.

“It was dawn and we were preparing to return to Skyhold,” Dorian started, dragging a hand down the side of his face as he recalled the events leading up to Delani’s capture. He looked exhausted. There were dark half moons under his eyes and his hair was unkempt. If Bull had any sense he would make sure that Dorian did not get his hands on a mirror.

Rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes, Dorian continued with his account of what had happened to them. “We were discussing Cassandra’s lack of a love life,” his explanation was interrupted by the distasted growl that came from the Seeker, and a fraction of a smile edged the corner of Dorian’s mouth. Still holding Cullen’s gaze, Dorian carried on, “when Delani sensed the ambush coming. Her ears did that strange twitchy elf thing before she ordered us to prepare for an attack.”

“That’s when we were overwhelmed,” Cassandra added, taking the reins of the explanation so that Cullen could have a militarized version of the account. “They came in number. We bested them in skill but they swarmed down on us like insects.” She answered his next questions before Cullen could give voice to them. “They had no identifying markers, nor any particular skill in combat. The only thing that they had were their numbers. They flanked us and closed in on us until they had a hold of the Inquisitor. The second they had her, the attack stopped and they pulled back.”

There was a boulder weighing down in the pit of Cullen’s gut. “They came for her,” he stated, dread coursing through him like ink, blackening him, destroying him. He swallowed down his rage, wrangled down his growing panic, and instead focused on his purpose. Cullen had to investigate the attack so that he could better understand the attackers and try to predict what their next move would be.

“It sure does look that way, Curly,” Varric muttered, looking about as distraught as Cullen felt. All of Delani’s companions appeared to be angry and upset over the abduction of their leader. These bandits had stolen something precious from them, and they would pay for that crime with their lives.

Cullen ground his teeth, trying to stave off the tempest of emotions roaring inside of him, but he was failing. His overwhelming anger, his petrifying fear, his unbearable despair were tearing him apart limb from limb and he could feel the turmoil expanding inside of him until it threatened to burst out of him in an explosion of the messiest kind.

He started pacing, his face buried in his hands as he rubbed at his features. He had started walking so that he could better work out the onslaught of emotions raging inside of him. Instead, his every step seemed to stoke the flames, prod the hearth until he had no more control over his feelings or how they came out of him.

“How did this happen?” Cullen demanded, his tone low, dangerous, a growl that could rival that of a wild animal. He stopped pacing and sharply turned on his heel. Glaring at Delani’s three companions, he angrily asked, “How did you allow this to happen?”

Varric and Dorian shared a glance, and Cassandra set her jaw. Lip pulling into a sneer, the Seeker corrected him, “We didn’t allow anything. We were ambushed and overwhelmed, there was nothing that we could do.”

Eyes narrowing into daggers, Cullen seethed, “Did you even try?”

It was Dorian who answered him, insulted, infuriated. “No. We just let ourselves almost be killed for the fun of it. Didn’t we?” He turned to the others, inviting them to join him in his ire. “Wasn’t nearly dying just so much fun?”

Iron Bull’s grasp tightened protectively on Dorian’s shoulders. He impaled Cullen with a dangerous look, a warning vibrating in the undercurrents of his voice as he rumbled, “Back off, Commander.”

“We fought as best and as long as we could, Cullen,” Cassandra assured him, understanding in her brown eyes even if her expression was disapproving. “The Inquisitor’s abduction pains us just as badly as it does you. She is our friend and our leader, and we want her back just as much.”

Breathing heavily, Cullen tried to put a cap on his emotions. He could not let them rule him, he could not let them guide him. Delani’s life very well depended on him keeping a level head. Dragging his hands through his hair, he sucked in one deep breath after the other until his rage no longer clouded his mind. Once he could think clearly again, Cullen sighed and straightened himself back out.

To Dorian and the others, he apologized, “Forgive me. Knowing that Lady Lavellan is in danger is…” terrifying, sickening, overwhelming, unbearable, unacceptable. Cullen settled on, “difficult. I did not mean to take out my frustrations on all of you.”

Varric shrugged, unfazed by Cullen’s accusation and quickly accepting of his apology. Allowing a supportive smirk to curl the corner of his mouth, the dwarf sympathized, “We get it, Curly. But Scarlett is fine, and we’ll find her before you know it.”

“And once we do, we are going to make those bastards pay,” Dorian agreed, resolute and cocksure like he always was in regards to the things he believed in wholeheartedly.

Before Cullen could reply with his gratitude for their support and sympathy, his attention was pulled to the tree line. One of Leliana’s scouts emerged from between the trees. The spy master had assured Cullen that the elf was a tracker of great skill. When their eyes met, the elf woman waved Cullen over and he immediately excused himself from the conversation.

Running to where the tracker was standing, Cullen asked, “What did you find?” He hoped that it was something solid, something that they could use to find Delani faster.

The elf woman looked up at him with her large brown eyes, her expression was serious and unreadable. Gesturing for him to follow her, she stepped back into the forest and pointed his attention to the ground. “There are tracks, fifteen pairs by my count, none belonging to an elf.”

He looked up from the forest floor to meet the tracker’s gaze. Wordlessly, he demanded to know what that meant. If Delani had no tracks, did that mean that she wasn’t with the bandits? If she wasn’t with the bandits, then where was she?

“If she was in the same shape as her companions, she was likely unconscious,” the tracker observed, helping Cullen to visualize what had happened to Delani. “The Inquisitor was probably carried to their mounts.”

His stomach twisted at the thought of someone else’s hands on Delani, especially someone who had hurt her to the point of unconsciousness. When Cullen found these bandits they were going to pay with their lives. The price of hurting his beloved was blood, all of it, and Cullen was going to collect.

The tracker guided him further into the forest, her eyes on the tracks as she carefully walked beside them. Without looking up to meet his gaze, she pointed in the direction the tracks were headed. “They’re going north, by the looks of it.” Returning her attention to Cullen, she gave him a curt nod and assured him, “We’ll start following the tracks at first light. A group that large travels slow and stops often. We’ll catch them, Commander.”

He didn’t want to wait until first light, Cullen wanted to start searching for Delani right that very second. But he knew that they needed to be able to see the tracks in order to follow them. Right now they had to focus on collecting their dead and injured and returning them to Skyhold. He had to write letters to the soldiers' families. He had to make sure that Dorian, Varric, and Cassandra were properly tended to by healers. And then, the second that the sun broke over the horizon, Cullen would help track down the bandits and bring Delani home.

The ground was cool beneath her, her eyes shut as she listened to the night. Cicadas serenaded the darkness, nocturnal creatures creeping about as the fire died down. One by one all of McGregor’s men had succumbed to sleep. There was likely to be one or two men keeping guard, but snores filled the clearing, heavy and even breaths letting her know that the others were asleep.

Slowly, she opened her eyes to find that the campfire had dwindled in size, casting a weak glow over the campsite. Delani set her jaw and ignored the pain that the action caused her. Wayne’s beating had definitely broken her cheekbone, and it might have loosened a tooth or two in the back of her mouth. The right side of her face was swollen to the point of nearly sealing her eye shut completely. And Delani was next to positive that her nose was broken. She’d tend to her injuries later. First, she had to cut out of these ropes and then teach these bandits the error of their ways.

Carefully untucking the knife from where she’d hidden it between her bound wrists, Delani started to saw through the rope. She worked slowly, soundlessly, watching the sleeping bandits for any signs that they were about to wake. Once she felt the rope slacken against her wrists, she pulled her hands free and draped the rope over the back of her neck. Now she had two weapons against these fools. Tonight there would be blood. But first, she needed use of both of her eyes.

Delani brought the knife to the swollen side of her face. Pressing the pointed end to the corner of her eyebrow, Delani pressed down on the puffed up skin and winced as she dragged the knife down in a half circle and stopped at her broken cheekbone. Blood oozed from the laceration, seeping from the cut like a bitter wine from a broken cask. She sealed her lips shut and tightened her throat, stopping herself from making any noises that could potentially wake the sleeping bandits.

Once enough blood had drained from her face, and Delani could see from her right eye again, she set out to work. She pulled her necklace out from under her collar and peered down at the worn coin. Sending a prayer to Mythal, Delani begged the goddess for protection so that she might see her love again. Her second prayer went to Elgar’nan, the All-Father and god of vengeance. May he guide her hands tonight and cover them with the blood of her enemies.

She pressed a kiss to the coin, pretending for a moment that it was Cullen she was kissing, and tucked it back under her collar. When she opened her eyes again it was with relief to find that all of the bandits were just as she’d left them, sleeping. Crouching low to the ground she inspected the campsite, carefully scanning over each bandit as they slept. All the way at the edge of camp, almost completely out of the dim campfire’s reach, a single lookout stood his post. A smile inched over her lips, she would deal with him first.

As angry as she was with these shemlan, Delani wasn’t looking for a fight. There were too many of them and all she had was a knife and a rope. If she had her daggers and some grenades, then maybe she would have felt more inclined to just unleash her vengeance upon them like a hailstorm of fire and horror. At the moment, all Delani could do was sneak around the camp and hope that none of these imbeciles were light sleepers.

She rounded the camp, her footfalls were silent, her breathing was even, and the knife was ready in her grasp. This was not her father’s knife, a knife that had seen her through countless struggles and filled her with comfort. This was a stranger’s knife, used for things she couldn’t even begin to imagine. It seemed fitting that she would use it to kill the group who had killed her friends. No, she shoved the thought away. They were alive. They had to be alive. She couldn’t fail them too.

The lookout was whistling quietly to himself, picking the leaves off of a low hanging branch and folding them in half before tearing them down the middle. Delani almost felt sorry for the man, this was hardly fair. He was easily distracted and a terrible lookout, and it was going to cost him. Luckily for him, Delani was feeling gracious. She wasn’t going to make him suffer. Much.

Coming up behind him, Delani stalked foward like a wildcat ready to pounce. The moment that she was close enough, she lunged forward and covered his mouth with her hand. The sound of his surprise was muffled in her hand, soon to be accompanied by the sound of his death. As Delani secured his movements she stabbed the knife into his side, repeatedly punching the blade through his ribs and into his liver, his kidney, his lung, until he was no longer able to hold up his own weight. The bandit slumped forward and Delani eased him onto the ground, careful to keep him from making a sound.

Good. The one man that had been awake was dead, which meant that the rest of these idiots were free for the picking. The grin that carved its way across her mouth was wolfish. Time to have some fun.

She creeped back into camp, her every movement slow and calculated. Not a single twig broke under the pressure of her weight, not a single leaf crunched announcing her position. Delani had been a hunter too long to make such amateur mistakes. She knew how to take a life, and she knew how to be merciful about it. It was fortunate for these bastards that she was going to show them a mercy they didn’t show her or her companions. They deserved pain, Delani would give them justice instead.

The first man she came upon was snoring loudly, his jaw hanging open and drool dripping out of the corner of his mouth. Delani kneeled beside him, watching him for a moment as he slept. She wondered if he had a family, a wife and children. Was that why he’d agreed to join up with these Faceless Few and abduct her for a ransom? Was he trying to provide for his family? Delani shook away the thoughts. She was the Inquisitor and he had thought to sell her off to the Venatori, the very people who wanted to destroy the world as they knew it. He was a fool, and Thedas could stand to lose a few more fools.

She plunged the knife into the side of the bandit’s neck, her movement’s quicksilver. When she pulled the blade out blood began to spurt from the wound like water from a geyser. The man’s eyes shot open but he was unable to make a sound. He pressed his hand to his neck, trying to stop the blood flow, but there was nothing that he could do. Delani waited with him, holding his gaze as she watched the life drain from his wide eyes. With her eyes she apologized that it had to come to this. Hopefully he would find peace in the afterlife. Perhaps his Maker would welcome him to his side. Somehow, Delani doubted it.

Once the bandit was dead, she moved on to the next. It was a quick death sentence, painless for the most part. The bandit had felt fear, for sure, but the incision itself was quick and made while he was unconscious. He had felt the blood drain from his body and pool underneath him. He had felt the cold grip of death caress his limbs. He had been afraid, but he had not suffered. Delani would give his friends the same mercy.

She repeated the process several more times. Coming to kneel over a bandit, she would bury the knife into the side of their neck and pull it out. Their eyes would shoot open, wide and desperate as they searched for the cause of the disturbance in their slumber. They would find her beside them, watching, and they would search her features as though she were an angel of death. Mouths slack and searching for breath, they would gasp and pant, and sometimes Delani would have to cover their mouths to keep them from making a sound. But she would sit with them and keep them company while they passed. They did not die alone, but they had to die.

Ten bandits she had already killed that way. Only five remained. When Delani stepped up to the next one it was to find Wayne snoring loudly. Anger burst forth inside of her, flames licking at her flesh. He had beaten her. She had been bound and defenseless and he had beaten her until she was broken and bloody. He did not deserve mercy. Delani would not grant him the kindness she had shown his peers. Wayne would suffer, and she would watch gladly as the life was violently sucked from his eyes.

Removing the rope from her neck, Delani stood over him, one foot on either side of him, and wrapped the rope once around each of her hands until it was taut in front of her. She fell onto her knees and quickly looped the rope around Wayne’s neck. With her knees on his shoulders Delani pinned him to the ground as she tightened the rope around Wayne’s throat.

His eyes flew open and he gasped for breath. Lips pulling back into an animalistic sneer, Delani tugged the rope tighter still, until she felt his trachea give under the pressure. Wayne clawed at the rope, trying to loosen it around his neck. It was too tight, he couldn’t get his fingers between the rope and his neck, instead his nails clawed at his skin and left furious red scratches behind. Upon realizing that the rope would not loosen as long as Delani held it, he reached for her.

Delani pressed down on his shoulders with all of her weight. It was a position he would not be able to easily get out of. Her knees on his arms made it difficult for him to reach for her properly, and her being so far up his torso made him unable to use his legs against her. Wayne could have pushed her off of him if he wasn’t panicking. But he was, which only meant that he was going to die faster.

Wayne’s beady eyes were wide now, holding hers with anger, hatred, and fear as each fruitless gasp was met by failure. His struggles were violent and loud, all that remained of the camp was probably awake now, but Delani couldn’t pull her glare from Wayne’s. She wanted to watch as the light in his eyes dimmed. She wanted to feel his struggles weaken. Delani wanted him dead for what he’d done to her.

The sound of someone shouting dimly registered in the back of her mind. The words were hushed behind the sound of blood pumping loudly in her ears. It was only when she felt a powerful pulse of energy shove her off of Wayne that she finally heard Ayden McGregor shout, “I said stop!”

Ayden was the mage who had frozen her in place before, she finally realized. Delani should have guessed. He had a certain way about him that screamed “newly free Circle mage” that was easy to discern under his bravado.

She’d landed some distance away from Wayne with a mouth full of dirt and painfully hitting her cut and broken cheek on the ground. Delani started to pick herself back up with a groan but, before she could fully gather her bearings, she was flipped onto her back.

Wayne was looming over her, the rope loose around his neck. Fury was bright in his bloodshot eyes, hatred burned off of his surface like heat from a fire. He was on top of Delani in an instant, before she had time to crawl away or fight him off. Upper lip pulled back into a snarl, Wayne wrapped both of his large, calloused hands around her throat and squeezed.

“So you like to play choking games, you knife ear bitch?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and breathy in wake of her failed assault. “It’s a damn good thing that I’ve woken up with a hankering for rabbit.”

His hands were so tight around her neck. Delani gasped for breath but not a single sliver of oxygen was able to make it past him crushing her throat. She scratched at his arms, tearing the flesh to ribbons as she fought to loosen his hold. Wayne was so much bigger than her, so much stronger. It didn’t matter how hard she bucked or how furiously she fought him. He weighed down on her like a boulder and she was not going to be able to get him off of her.

Lack of oxygen was quickly making her light headed. Delani could feel her struggles weakening, could see the black creeping around the edges of her vision. Still she fought with everything she had left in her. She had to get Wayne off of her. She had to stop him from doing this. Delani had to free herself from these bandits. She had to find her way back to Skyhold. She needed to return to Cullen most of all. She couldn’t die without him knowing. Delani could not slip from this life into the next without telling him that she loved him.

The grin on Wayne’s face was the most disturbing thing she had ever seen in her entire life. And it was going to be the last thing that she ever saw. She was going to die here, surrounded by bandits, farther away from her friends and family than she could ever be, without the comfort of Cullen’s warmth to help calm her. This was the end. And he didn’t know.

Ma’arlath, vhenan’ara.

“Kill them all!” Her eyes were wild as she swung her great sword in a wide arch, pointing at all the mages she’d just demanded an execution for. The blade glowed red, tainted lyrium pulsing with a song of malice and death, coated with the blood of a hundred innocent lives that had not deserved their fate.

Meredith was covered in the blood of her charges. Crimson soaked her white blonde hair, matting it around her face. Blood was smeared over her pale skin like war paint, bringing color to her eyes that were wide with madness.

Cullen looked around at those that were to be executed. They were children who had just come to their power, innocents who had done nothing wrong to deserve such a punishment. They were people covered in blood splatter that the Knight-Commander had spilled. None of these wide eyed magelings had truck with demons. None of them had dabbled in blood magic. The only one spilling blood, reveling in chaos, was Meredith and the Templar Order.

His gaze fell to his own hands and he gasped. His gauntlets were stained with blood. Fresh and wet crimson dripping from his hands like water. Cullen ripped them off only to find that his bare hands were still painted red. He was a part of this madness, he had helped lead the slaughter.

Searching his Knight-Commander’s face, Cullen shouted, “We must stop this, Meredith!” Cullen was desperate. He had taken more lives than he had ever helped. He had made an oath to Andraste and the Maker, he had made a vow to himself and the Circle. And he had failed all of them. What kind of man did that make him? It didn’t, he realized, it made him a monster.

“We will stop when they are all dead!” Meredith returned, running an unharrowed mage through with her hellish blade. She kicked the mage off of her sword and swung, hacking another in two. Her laughter was maniacal, insane. When she saw that Cullen had not joined her in her massacre, she whipped toward him and seethed, “I order you to kill every last one of them.”

He took a retreating step back, shaking his head, trying to reason with a woman so clearly out of her mind. “They have done nothing wrong, Knight-Commander. We are sworn to protect—“

“The innocent,” she agreed with a devilish laugh. “And we are!” Meredith bellowed before slaying another mage, grinning as his blood spattered over her face and coated her armor.

Returning her attention to Cullen, she grinned. “We are cleansing the world of these vermin cursed with magic. They are haunted by spirits and demons and it is our duty to protect the world from them. We must kill them all!”

“No!” Cullen shouted back, refusing to believe that that was what he had sworn himself to. He would not believe that that was what the Templar order stood for. It was supposed to be more. He was supposed to be better than all of this. Thirteen year old Cullen would have been horrified with the man that he had become.

Cullen shook his head as he backed away from this grisly scene. He could take no part in this madness. He could not accept that he ever had. “This is not what we do.”

“It should be,” his Knight-Commander rebuked. Her pale eyes flashing with something sinister, something terrible, something inhuman. Suddenly Cullen knew that it was not the mages that he should have feared. “Don’t you remember what happened to you at Kinloch Hold? Don’t you remember what they are capable of?”

He did remember. Not a day went by that Cullen didn’t remember how horrible it was to watch his friends, his comrades get tortured and die. Everyday he remembered how he had begged the Maker for deliverance, but it had come in the shape of a Dalish elf. The Warden had believed that the Circle could be saved, that the lives of the mages were worth preserving. At the time he could not have disagreed more. She had not seen what he’d seen. She had not suffered as he had suffered.

But time and contemplation had soothed his anger. Cullen no longer saw the underlying threat in every mage he encountered. Not everyone was toying with blood magic. Most of them could resist the alluring whispers of demons. They didn’t need to be feared. They didn’t deserve to be slaughtered. For all the dangers they threw onto the laps of mages, the only one he saw murdering innocents was Meredith.

“Whatever they are capable of,” Cullen started, eyes narrowing with anger and betrayal. She was his commander. She was his mentor. Meredith was supposed to guide him, help him, care for his wellbeing. Instead she had nurtured his hatred and his anger. She had turned him against his charges and blinded him to their suffering, suffering that he had helped inflict. Meredith was a monster and he was no better. But he did not have to go along with this madness any longer.

Taking a step toward the Knight-Commander he finished, “The only threat I see to the lives of innocents is you.”

Her lip pulled back into a disgusted and disappointed sneer. Lowly, she replied, “Then you will die with them,” before plunging her great sword into his chest.

A gasp tore through him as Cullen fell to his knees. His gaze dropped to the blade embedded inside of his chest. He stared at it in confusion, bewildered by the burning pain of his blood spewing from his chest. He coughed and blood fell from his mouth. When Cullen forced his head back so that he could look his Knight-Commander in the eyes, it was to find that they were completely blackened.

“You have failed, Cullen. You will only ever fail. Try though you might, your destiny cannot be changed.” Meredith ripped her sword free and he fell back to the ground. Blood pooled around him, his life seeping from his body.

“No!” Cullen shouted, shoving himself from the dark grasp of the nightmare’s hold. Pain shot through his head, and it felt like someone was using a butcher’s knife to stir up his brain. He buried his face in his hands, his fingers in his hair as he dragged one deep breath after the other into his lungs. His body was shaking violently, his muscles spasming, and his body was coated with a thick layer of sweat.

It took several minutes for him to calm himself back down. The last of his heavy exhales left him with a shudder, and Cullen felt himself settle back into his body and the realm of reality where he resided. Dragging his hands through his hair, he tried to banish the lingering images from his mind, he tried to shake off the look of murder in Meredith’s soulless and blackened eyes.

She had not lost her mind until the end, he reminded himself. Meredith had been a good woman in life, she had been a good Knight-Commander. Yes, she had been paranoid, stern, and unbending, but she had led her men well and tried to do her best. It wasn’t until she’d been touched by red lyrium that she’d lost her way. No one was perfect. He was even less so.

When Cullen pulled his face from his hands it was to find himself seated at his desk. He must have fallen asleep while trying to get some work done. It wasn’t surprising that the dreams had come with vengeance. His worry for Delani was consuming him whole, making it difficult for him to hold the protective wall he typically had, to keep the worst of the nightmares at bay.

Pulling himself out of his chair with a groan, Cullen rolled his shoulders and stretched out his back. He threw a glance over his shoulder to check if he had slept through the night, but found that darkness still prevailed over the sky. It was still evening. He knew that he should try to get some sleep but, after that dream, the very thought made his stomach uneasy.

He would go to the war table and contemplate where the bandits were taking Delani. When morning came he would go with the tracker and a squadron of men, and they would find the Inquisitor and bring her home. He would take care of her and show her how much he had worried about her, how her absence had terrified him, and now much he loved her. Cullen would get the chance to tell her he loved her. The Maker could not deny him that.

Cullen started for the door that would lead him to the rotunda only for another door to burst wide open. A flash of sickly pale skin and patchwork clothing stormed into the room. Cole’s eyes were wide, his features were haunted.

Cullen’s initial reaction was irritation. How many times had he already told the lad that he could not simply drop in unannounced trying to ‘unknot the hurt’ inside of Cullen? Yet still the boy persisted, talking in that tranced way of his, speaking in half sentences and descriptive thoughts.

“Cole, you can’t just—“ he started, only for his words to be cut off by the young man.

“Angry eyes staring down at me. Revenge begets revenge begets revenge. His hands are tight around my neck, nails like knives in my skin.” Cole was standing in front of Cullen, looking at him but seeing something else entirely. His mind was in a distant place, in someone else's head, and that person was suffering. It wasn’t until Cole continued with the reading that Cullen realized who the boy was linked to, whose dying mind he was stuck inside.

“Creators don’t let this be it. I’m not ready. He doesn’t know.”

Cullen shook his head. Grabbing Cole by the shoulders he demanded, “Is it Delani, Cole? Is someone hurting her?” His heart fell into his stomach like a dead weight. If Cole was feeling her now, if she was thinking those thoughts it was because… No. Maker, no, she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. “Tell me, Cole!” He shook the boy, desperate for answers, but Cole wasn’t in his body. He was in Delani’s

Voice low and steady, nearly melodic in his incantation, Cole continued, “His hair is like gold, strands of silk, stalks of wheat in fields I will never own. Amber eyes shine with what? I hope it’s love, please let it be love. Vhenan’ara, forgive me, you will never know how much I love you. Vhenan’ara… I… Gone.”

His knees buckled. His mind blanked. His heart shattered, and Cullen was destroyed. Hammering a fist to the floor, a roar ripped out of him as his grief consumed him to his entirety. Pain shot through his veins, worse than any kind he had ever felt before in his life. Cullen would have preferred death over this agony. He would rather die a thousand times over than be forced to live in a world that Delani was not a part of.

Ragged breaths clawed in and out of him, each one more difficult than the last. His throat was tight, he couldn’t breathe. How could he breathe, how would he ever be able to breathe again when Delani no longer had that privilege? How was he more worthy of life than her? Why her? Why had the Maker taken her from him? Hadn’t He taken enough already?

“No!” Cullen sobbed, his entire body convulsing. Rocking himself back and forth, tears racked through him, ripping him apart from the inside out. “No, no, no, no, no…”

He had survived so much throughout his life. The Ferelden Circle, Kirkwall, Haven, but he would not survive this. He didn’t want to.

Chapter Text

Song birds happily chirped to the yellow light of day, skipping along the branches  as they trilled joyful melodies. Rays of gold broke through the forest canopy like fingers tickling the earth’s surface, illuminating the forest with its warmth, giving life to the plants and animals that called it home. A light breeze flowed through the trees, carrying with it the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle. It was a delightfully cool breath that kept the forest at a pleasant temperature.

Delani sucked in a deep breath through her nose, letting her eyes slide shut as she enjoyed the peacefulness of it all. What a lovely forest, what a lovely day, it was so nice to catch a reprieve from all the fighting and war. A smile fanned over her lips and she slowly opened her eyes. Tilting her head back, she stared at the warm light as it caressed its way through the leaf covered branches.

Laughing in delight, she looked around at the perfection that surrounded her. Butterflies and bees rode the wind currents and landed on nearby flowers, whose petals were dotted by dew drops. Her bare feet were embraced by cool moss and dry leaves. It was a curious contradiction that tickled her toes and made her smile brighter. What a wonderful place. Why did she not recognize this forest? Surely she had seen it before.

A feeling of contentment vibrated through her, a lighthearted energy filling her with peace. And still, despite the perfection of it all, there was a nagging feeling persistent in the back of her mind. Whispers of urgency picked at her sense of calm, pinching her with impatience. Delani brushed the feeling away. She had endured enough fighting and war to last a lifetime, she wanted to enjoy this peace for as long as she could. Maybe even forever. She couldn’t remember what was so worth fighting for anyway.

Him.

The sharp pain of that thought was like a knife in her heart and Delani was quick to shove it away. She could not understand the senses of loss, panic, or urgency that had overcome her with the thought, and she didn’t want to. Not while she was here. Not when this forest was too perfect for feelings such as those.

Her attention was pulled up at the sound of twigs softly snapping in half. Some distance away, standing amidst a bed of blood lotus was a stag more handsome than she had ever seen. His coat was a reddened mahogany and flecked with gold, covering strong muscles that shifted and tightened as he came to a stop at the edge of the trees. Antlers branched out from his skull, thick and strong, beautiful and threatening. They were weapons and a work of art all in one. The deer’s eyes were blacker, deeper, stronger than obsidian, constellations and the cosmos hidden in their depths. There was an otherworldly intelligence to the creature, an understanding that needed no language.

They stared at one another for a moment, Delani in amazement, the stag in curiosity. The beast’s nostrils flared as he sniffed the air, catching her scent. His ears twitched, waving back and forth as though it were trying to make sense of her. All Delani could do was gawk at the marvelous creature. He was a gorgeous beast, strong and stunning, and she didn’t want to do anything to scare him off.

When he let out a heavy exhale and shook himself out, she grinned at the grace of him. The stag looked Delani in the eyes and held her gaze for a moment. She could feel him searching her, reading her, peering into the very depths of her soul. Satisfied with whatever it was he found, the stag turned around and started the way he came. He peered back at her, his desires clear in his bottomless black eyes.

Come.

He started to leave and Delani followed after him. There was something about the stag that drew her in, that evoked her trust. He was a friend and he meant her no harm. Where he went, she would follow. They strolled between the trees for a little while, the deer quietly guiding her through the brush and Delani contentedly trailing behind him.

The stag ducked his head under some low hanging branches, keeping his antlers from getting caught in the leaves, and entered the clearing just past the wall of greenery. Delani moved the branches and stepped underneath them, welcoming the warmth of the undulated daylight. She had to lift her arm to block the sudden brightness of the sunlight. Blinking until her eyes adjusted, when she lowered her arm it was to intake a sharp, surprised breath.

A man stood center in the clearing, stroking the stag’s neck as the two shared a silent communication. He was taller than her by several inches, with the muscle structure of a hunter who was not yet out of his prime. His skin was dark like wet cherrywood, smattered with constellations of freckles on every exposed plane of skin. Hair red like fire was braided away from his face, giving a clear view of the crimson colored vallaslin honorific to the goddess Andruil. Chestnut colored eyes parted from the stag’s obsidian gaze and moved to where Delani stood frozen at the tree line. A smile carved his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes, and her heart lurched at the staggering familiarity of it.

Confusion, fear, elation, trepidation, joy, a whirlwind of emotions stormed through her as she held the male elf’s gaze. Her knees were knocking with the force of her shaking legs. She tried to take a step forward, a single breathless word spilling past her parted lips, “Papae,” before she fell to her knees. Tears welled before her eyes, disbelief swallowing her to her entirety as she stared unblinkingly at her father.

The stag huffed, words without language communicated to her father before he left them both in the clearing. Her father’s gaze was on Delani as the deer departed, not breaking eye contact for a moment. The grin on his lips was wide, paternal, proud, as he said, “Da’mi.”

He started for her and Delani picked herself off of the ground. Without a thought to how this was possible, Delani’s only concern was relearning the feel and smell of the man she had thought lost to her forever. She ran into her father’s ready arms and buried her face in his chest. Squeezing her arms around his neck, Delani breathed him in and the tears finally fell from her eyes. He smelled of pine and wood polish, the familiarity of it tore her in two. Creators, she had missed that smell.

“Da’mi, emma asha. Ma da’enansal.” He murmured into her hair, holding her just as tightly as she was holding him. Her father was a rock, an anchor, securing her to him as she weathered the torrent of emotions storming inside of her. His strong hands rubbed her back and brushed through her hair, he touched her with a fatherly affection that she had missed beyond description.

“Papae,” she started, finally managing to grapple use of her tongue enough to formulate language. Pulling slightly away from him, Delani searched his soft brown eyes as she stammered, “I-I don’t— How is this… you’re supposed to be… I saw you… I held you as you…”

Realization and understanding finally dawned upon her. Delani’s gaze moved from her father’s face and back onto the forest that encompassed them. The tall trees reached toward the heavens with leafy fingers hungry for its warmth. Never in her life had she ever stepped foot in a forest so perfect, and she had walked through many lovely woods. The temperature was too perfect, the light too pure, the forest too peaceful. Nature was beautiful, but she was deadlier still. Delani knew that well enough to recognize that such perfection could not exist in the realm of the living. Suddenly Delani could see the perfection for what it truly was.

When she returned her attention to her father it was to find his light brown eyes sympathetic to her realization. She searched his face as she asked, “A-am I… dead?”

He nodded slowly, cupping her cheeks in his hands and answered, “Yes, da’mi, you are dead.” Seeing the fear and panic start to take shape in his daughter’s eyes like storm clouds, he added, “Though, whether or not you remain that way is up to you.”

Delani inspected her father’s features, searching his warm and loving eyes; eyes she had missed so much that it hurt, eyes that haunted her dreams and reminded her of her single greatest failure. “What does that mean?” she asked, not understanding.

If she was dead then that was the end of it. How many times had she begged Falon’din to return her father to her? How many times had she consulted the gods, requesting that they trade her life for his? Her prayers had been met by silence. Dead was dead, there was no coming back from it.

The look he gave her was encouraging. “I will explain everything,” his smile grew with a mirth she remembered well. “But first I want to look at my beautiful daughter.”

Grabbing her by the shoulders, he looked at her from head to toe, taking in her every detail and his grin grew wider with pride and paternal adoration. “My, how you have grown,” he observed with a tremble in his voice.

She looked down at herself, wondering how different she must look to him. While he looked exactly how she remembered. He was the strong man she had always thought him to be, indomitable, resilient, a laugh at the ready hiding just under his surface. He looked just as he had the day fate had stolen him from her, the day she had lost him to her own foolishness.

Tears pricked at her sinuses and Delani clenched her hands into tight fists. Sniffing back the upheaval of emotion, she replied, “And you’re not as tall as I remember you being, old man.”

He laughed and the sound made her heart jump with nostalgic joy. Happily regarding his daughter, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her back into his embrace. Delani nuzzled herself against him, feeling like a little girl all over again. He had always been her world, that did not stop being true with his passing.

“I have missed you, ma da’mi.” When he pulled away the smile was smaller on his lips, the warmth was still there but the mirth had faded a bit. Softly he said, “I have been watching over you, emma da’asha, and it pains me to see how much you have suffered because of my memory.”

“No,” she vigorously shook her head, denying his words as false. “Not because of your memory,” Delani corrected him, “because of my failure.”

His eyes sharpened in scolding. It was a look that she had earned on occasion while growing up, an expression that had always been so effective in causing her to immediately stop exactly what she was doing, and never do it again. But she had spent everyday for more than a decade blaming herself for losing her father. It was reflex now, instinct, and not so easily forgotten.

“You did not fail me, Delani,” he stated, chestnut colored eyes insisting that she listen. “You must put the thought from your mind. I lived my life for as long as I had it. I laughed and I loved, and it was glorious. But some of us are not meant to live as long as others. My time was short, but it was long enough to witness you grow into a mighty woman.”

He cupped her cheek in his hand and thumbed over her vallaslin, staring at his daughter with adoration in his eyes, he said, “I passed with the knowledge that you had all that you needed to be the proud woman your mother and I raised you to be. You were a huntress beyond comparison, and you were fierce in every aspect. When I left my body it was knowing that you would be able to take care of yourself, and that the world would tremble at your feet.” He smiled. “I always knew that you would change the world, da’mi, but now I see that it had taken losing me to set you on your path.”

Gnawing on her bottom lip to keep her chin from trembling, Delani shook her head and stood her ground against the waves of emotion that crashed against her. A part of her refused to believe that her father’s death was part of a greater plan, that in order for her to achieve her destiny he needed to have died. Another, smaller yet insistent part of her knew that if he had lived she likely would not have found her way to the Inquisition nor her place within it. She had never asked to be Inquisitor, she had never wanted to be called Herald of Andraste, but she had adopted her titles and their roles. It was part of who she was now, and she could not imagine herself any other way.

“That does not make losing you any easier.”

His smile turned sympathetic and he combed her hair out of her face like he used to do when she was a little girl. “You never lost me, Delani.” The warmth of his voice could compete with the sun’s. She could hear his love for her when he spoke. “I am a part of you.” He pressed the tips of his fingers to her brow, explaining, “I live in your memories and in your heart, just as I always have and always will.”

When he removed his fingers from the center of her forehead, Delani opened her eyes and wiped away the tears that fell free with the motion. Her father tucked his fingers under her chin and raised her face so that she might meet his gaze. Smiling down at her, his eyes sparkled as he instructed her to, “Tell me about this shemlan whom you have gifted with my knife.”

Another sharp pain cut through her, stabbing her in the heart. Delani was dead. She had died without getting the chance to tell him exactly how much she cared for him. Returning her father’s smile, she said, “His name is Cullen, and I think that you would have liked him if you had ever gotten the chance to meet him.”

Her father arched an eyebrow, the smile that was on his lips was happy and supportive. “He must mean a great deal to you for you to give him that knife.”

She nodded without a second’s hesitation nor an inkling of shame. “He does,” Delani agreed, more certain of that than she had ever been about anything in her entire life.

His smile grew. “Do you love him,” he asked, a hopeful note in his tone.

“Very much so,” Delani admitted, feeling blood rush to her cheeks with the words. The truth of them resonated through her, ringing through her bones and sparkling like stars in her bloodstream. Smile widening, she reaffirmed, “I love him with all of my heart.”

Chestnut colored eyes glittered with pride and happiness. The look he gave her made it clear how much those words, and the truth behind them, meant to him. All he had ever wanted for his daughter was for her to be happy, for her to find love, and now she had.

“Then you cannot stay here, da’mi.”

The sound of leaves crunching pulled both of their attention to the edge of the clearing. Standing at the tree line was the obsidian eyed stag. He was regarding them with cautious interest as though he were waiting for something to happen. The deer’s gaze moved to her father and the two of them spoke in wordless conversation, understanding passing between them through eye contact alone.

An impatient huff sounded from the stag and her father nodded in understanding. Refocusing on Delani, he stated, “You are dead, but not entirely. The threads of your soul are still tethered to your worldly vessel, waiting to either be ripped or repaired. The decision to return is yours to make.”

He looked back at the stag for a moment before returning his attention to her. “Go back, da’mi. Finish what you started.” He smiled, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. His tone was gentle with love as he continued, “Tell this Cullen that you love him, and know that your happiness is mine as well. The Beyond is not ready to claim your soul, and I am not ready for you to join me when you have so much life left to live.”

Delani nodded. She would go back, she would happily do as her father had instructed. Smiling at the first man she had ever loved, she whispered, “Ma ar’lath, papae.”

“Ma ar’lath, da’mi,” he returned before pressing a kiss to her brow. When he released her he took a step backwards, backtracking to where the stag stood waiting at the clearing’s edge. Without moving his gaze from hers, he said, “Promise me something, emma da’asha.”

“Anything.”

“Forgive yourself for what happened to me. It is time that you let me find peace in your memories and in your heart.” The look in his light brown eyes was pleading. This was his one request. “When you leave this place, leave your blame behind with you.”

She could not deny him his request when he asked with such fervor, or when he looked at her like that. Delani bowed her head and assured him, “I will, papae. I promise.”

A grateful smile curled his lips and she could feel the force of his pride on her surface. Nodding in gratitude, he said, “You must go now.” He was standing at the stag’s side and the beast turned to leave. Before he followed the deer’s steps he gave her one last smile and left with the words, “Go, and know that I am so proud of you.”

His words filled her with joy and love. She had ached after them for years, missed hearing them the way flora missed the heat of spring during an especially bitter winter. She watched him leave the clearing until he disappeared under the shadow of the thick forest canopy.

Delani stood alone in the forest clearing, looking for how she would find her way back to her body. When no trail made itself known to her, she searched the heavens above and felt the answer in her core. If she did not want to return she would stay here forever. She would truly die, and that was not something that Delani was prepared to do.

She shut her eyes and relished in the feeling of the sun’s warmth on her cheeks. Delani recalled all that awaited her in the realm of the living. There was a war on in Orlais. The Empress’s life was in danger. The Venatori were reaping havoc anywhere and everywhere that they could. An ancient Tevinter Darkspawn Magister wanted to regress the whole of Thedas back a thousand years. Her clan still needed the protection that she could only offer them as Inquisitor. And, most importantly of all, Cullen still didn’t know how much she loved him.

Her chest tightened at the thought of him. The memory of his golden eyes filled her with longing. She had gone too long without gazing into those amber depths already, she could not endure the rest of eternity without seeing them again. Delani loved how they shined when he smiled, how they would glitter with amusement and tighten with the force of his smile. His smile. Her heart fluttered with the memory of it. She remembered how much she adored that scar that scratched down the corner of his mouth. She remembered how his lips felt against hers, how he always managed to pull the very breath from her lungs.

Suddenly Delani couldn’t breathe. Her eyes shot open only to find that the forest had disappeared around her, vanished into nothingness. Delani was enveloped in a blackness that had no end. It was a void, a lightless chasm that sucked the oxygen from her lungs. She grasped at her throat, trying to find breath but her limbs were stiff at her sides. Delani was helpless, struggling to breathe while also trying to regain control of her body. She was stuck. She was going to die all over again.

A bolt of energy surged through her, causing her body to convulse with the power of it. She felt like she were being viciously syphoned through a funnel before her senses came crashing down on her all at once. A gasp tore through her, and the feeling of oxygen finally expanding her lungs was nearly unbearable. The metallic taste of blood was thick in her mouth. Pain thrummed loudly through her body, aching, pulsing. Sound was muted, as though she were underwater and straining to hear. It took several seconds for her to be able to hear anything over the ringing in her ears.

“—fucking idiot!” A loud male voice broke through the fog, sounding angry, panicked even. Cold fingers pressed to Delani’s neck and a sigh of relief momentarily joined the voice’s anger. After the breath had passed, the voice spoke again. “How would we collect a ransom if she’s dead, you blasted fool?”

A second voice spoke out, sounding raspy and dejected. “The knife ear tried to kill me!” he shouted back in his own defense.

“Better you than her. No one would pay a single copper for your sorry ass.”

Delani felt her head being lifted off of the ground and tilted back. A second later water flooded her mouth and rushed into her lungs. She jolted upright with a cough, forcing the liquid from her lungs. As her body heaved, gasping for breath, a rough hand patted her back to help her find oxygen. Once her coughing fit had subsided, Delani blinked her eyes into focus to find herself in a forest clearing shadowed by night. There was chill in the air, the cold Ferelden nights were getting worse with the quick approach of winter.

She took a second to gather her wits. What was the last thing she could remember? Delani had cut out of the ropes that had bound her, and she’d gone through the bandit camp killing each bandit one by one. She had disposed of a majority of them before stepping up to Wayne. Wayne. Her attention ripped over her shoulder to the five bandits that were staring down at her.

The tall one standing behind Ayden McGregor was regarding her with hatred in his bloodshot eyes. It was a hatred she knew well. Fire sparked inside of her and with it came a burst of energy that could only exist during the mindlessness of rage. She shot up and launched herself at the shemlan, aiming to finish what she had started.

Wayne had killed her. The bastard had actually killed her! He had put his disgusting hands around her neck and he had squeezed until she’d stopped breathing. She would see him repaid for his kindness. He had taken her life and so she would take his. But Wayne would not be fortunate enough to find his way back from the dead; she would make sure of it.

Ayden McGregor intercepted her, grabbing her by the shoulders before turning her around, and throwing her face first down on the ground. Delani grunted when the weight of two men fell on top of her. One held her down, while the other bound her wrists to her elbows behind her back. She would not be cutting herself free this time, they were making sure of it.

“Now, now, Inquisitor,” Ayden said when his henchmen finally had her properly secured. They pulled her onto her knees and turned her back around to face their mage leader before they finally released her.

There was a smile on Ayden’s face when he asked, “Is that the proper way to thank the man that just saved your life?”

“He killed me,” she spat, her voice rough from the damage Wayne had done to her. She glared at the shemlan still standing behind Ayden. Delani would get her vengeance, if not now, later. But she would make Wayne pay.

“Not him,” Ayden returned with a careless grin. Jabbing his thumb into his chest, he clarified, “I was talking about me. If not for my magic you’d still be dead, and I’d be broke.”

She pulled her lip back into a sneer but her anger was no longer the animal that it had been moments ago. Exhaustion was creeping up on her and Delani slacked on her knees. She didn’t have the energy to fight them. Nearly dying had left her drained and what energy she’d had reserved was spent on trying to attack Wayne. Now that her efforts had been thwarted all Delani could do was resign herself to complacency for the rest of the night. After she’d had some rest she would fight these cowards with renewed vigor.

When Delani’s body hunched forward, the fight visibly drained from her, the smile in Ayden’s voice grew. “I don’t think she’ll cause us anymore problems tonight, men. But just to be sure,” his amusement was accompanied by wickedness, “you men should thank her for what she did to our friends.”

Tension filled the air and Delani had only the briefest of seconds to prepare herself before her stomach was met with the full momentum of a steel-toed boot. She doubled over, gasping for breath while simultaneously dry heaving, and still their attack continued. When her cheeks was crushed under the weight of a bandit’s boot, she wondered if perhaps she should have remained dead. How ludicrous for Ayden to revive her only to have her men beat her to death shortly after.

“Commander—“

“Did you bring the trackers?” he asked before Leliana had a chance to say whatever it was she had been about to say.

The spy master bowed her head and moved to the side, allowing a small group of elves to enter the war room.

Cullen was standing at the war table, his weight purchased on his fists as he inspected the map below. Standing at his side was the same pale boy who had destroyed his world and given it back to him all in the same night. Cole had come to his quarters to share Delani’s death with Cullen. It had been the single worst thing he had ever endured in his entire life. Cullen would have preferred to have been tortured by demons than to ever have to experience that pain ever again. Then, a minute or so later, Cole had been sucked back into Delani’s mind, experiencing her revival alongside her and restoring Cullen with the hope that he would see her again, hold her again, feel her warmth against him.

He had experienced what it was to lose Delani. Cullen had had his heart ripped out of his chest, had felt it shatter like glass. He’d felt the hollowness that had started to creep through him like a shadow, swallowing up anything that was good left inside him. Cullen had experienced unbearable, incomparable, indescribable pain, and he refused to feel it ever again.

They would not wait until first light to go after Delani. They were going to go after her now. Cullen would not go another night without her in his arms. He refused to go through another day with her in danger, in pain, suffering while he sat back and waited for the most opportune time to act. Thanks to Cole they knew where she was now. He had done nothing for too long already. Cullen had lost her once, he would not lose her again.

Leliana and the elven trackers approached the war table, awaiting Cullen to explain what it was that they were all doing here before even the sun dared show its light. Regarding them with all of the authority his title granted him, Cullen started, “We know where the Inquisitor is,” only for Leliana to interrupt him.

“How is this possible?” she asked, her eyes darkened by the shadow of her hood. The spy master did not like that he knew something before she did, but now was not the time.

Gesturing toward Cole, Cullen gave her the short version of the story. “Whoever has her now is hurting Del— Lady Lavellan. Cole can feel her suffering and has been able to pinpoint her location on the map.” The revelation was not at all a surprising one, as they had witnessed the boy do it before when searching for the binding necklace.

The boy’s eyes went wide and his chapped lips parted, and Cullen braced himself for what he knew was to come. “Bones broken, blood tastes like copper in my mouth. The coin is heavy, is this luck? Creators I can’t tell. Make it stop hurting.” He blinked and returned to the conversation. “I want to help,” Cole stated, needlessly explaining his presence in the room.

Cullen grit his teeth, his fists tightened and he knew that, if they were not covered by the leather of his gloves, his knuckles would be ghostly white. When he found Delani he would make who ever had taken her pay for what they’d done. He was going to make them wish that they had never been born, and he was going to relish in their suffering. Cullen was going to teach them that the price of harming the woman he loved was not one that any living being should have been willing to pay.

Sucking in one deep breath after the other, when he looked up to meet Leliana’s gaze it was for her to nod for Cullen to continue with the meeting. She understood his anger and she understood his urgency. He could go on without anymore interruptions.

“We know where the Inquisitor is, and we are going to go after her now.” Pointing down at the map, to the location where Cole had earlier marked, he said, “The bandits were headed to the Storm Coast, but did not make it far. They are only a few leagues from the original attack and if we leave now we will be able to better track them once we are closer to their location.”

He pulled free one of Delani’s tunics and thumbed over the fabric. Cullen closed his eyes as he remembered what she had looked like while wearing it, how the color had made her sea green eyes shine brighter. He would see those eyes again, and he would not leave anything to chance. When he held the garment out, one of the elven trackers stepped up and accepted it from him.

Cullen explained, “That tunic is the last thing she wore before she left. It is heavy with her scent. Give it to your hounds once we’ve reached the marked location.” Looking around at the faces surrounding him, he asked, “Do you have any questions?”

Heads shook and he let out a breath of relief. “Then let’s get moving. There is no time to waste.” He pushed himself off of the war table and rounded the room. Shoving the door open, Cullen was glad to hear the group following closely behind him.

Leliana appeared beside him, giving him a sidelong glance as she carefully assessed his outward appearance. “The Inquisitor and her team were ambushed before. We should assume that there are still many bandits holding her captive. Are you going to take a squadron of your men as well?”

He nodded once. “Of course,” Cullen answered her. The situation might have been a painful one, but it had not left him without reason. “One of my lieutenants will be leading a squad of men that will follow after us.”

“You will not be leading them?” she asked, an eyebrow arched, but there was no surprise in her voice or in her gaze.

When they found Delani, he would be there. Cullen refused to lag behind for any reason at all. Without meeting Leliana’s gaze, he answered, “Blackwall and Solas will accompany me and the the trackers. If there is a large number of bandits holding Delani captive we will be prepared to engage them.”

Leliana walked with him until the entrance of the main hall. He started down the steps and she lingered at the top of the stairs. “Bring her home, Commander.”

Without looking over his shoulder, Cullen assured her, “I will not return without her,” and hurried down the rest of the steps.

Not stopping once, Cullen was grateful to find that Blackwall had prepared Delilah for him. Both the Grey Warden and the Apostate were ready to leave on Cullen’s command and, as soon as he was situated on his mount, he gave the order for them to move. The three of them, and the small group of trackers with a few hunting hounds, raced out of Skyhold. His soldiers were following behind, but their numbers were larger so they would move a bit slower. Delani could not afford for him to be slowed down by anything.

He pushed Delilah to her limits and only slowed when the mare threatened to collapse. As soon as she and the other mounts had caught their breath they were moving again. The sun had finally found its way over the horizon and, if the sun was up, that probably meant that the bandits were on the move again. Cullen refused to allow the distance between him and Delani to grow any larger. There would be no more stops until the hounds had Delani’s scent and she was back in his arms.

Snow capped mountains eventually receded into forest covered terrain. For hours they rode, more carefully now that the trees filtered them through the wood. For leagues they journeyed, proceeding at a hurried pace, rushing through the passing scenery until Cullen was so close to finding Delani that he could feel it in his bones.

When at last they reached the location marked on their maps, they came to a halt. Two of the trackers descended from their mounts and readied the hounds. They pulled Delani’s tunic from their pack and offered it to the dogs. Black noses wiggled as the hounds took in her scent, immediately their snouts met the ground, searching for the owner of the smell.

The dogs strained against their leashes, having caught Delani’s scent they were eager to find the source. The tracker looked up at Cullen and nodded. When Cullen returned the gesture the entire group started to move. They continued through the forest, following the dogs as they led them to where Delani was being held against her will.

Cullen had to temper out his hope with protective doubt. He wanted to hold Delani again, he needed to bring her home, but he also needed to prepare his heart for the worst. If she somehow didn’t make it between now and when he found her, he had to be prepared to deal with that pain. He no longer had the privilege of privacy as he had had before. If he found Delani and she was dead, he would have to keep himself composed enough to at least manage the situation. Somehow Cullen doubted that any amount of preparation would make him able to withstand the loss of her a second time. The first had been impossible enough.

The closer that they got the more excited the dogs became. Their tails were wagging and their noses wet with excitement. The trees thinned and the hounds led them out into a forest clearing, the sight of which pulled the breath right out of Cullen’s lungs.

Bodies were strewn about, looking as though they were sleeping if not for the pools of blood that stained the forest floor. It was a slaughter, and Cullen felt a sense of dread amass in his gut. Had the bandits been attacked by another group of bandits? Had someone else taken Delani? Was she in even more danger now?

“Maker’s breath,” he sighed, scanning the camp in search of any sign of Delani, fearing that she would be one of the bodies drained of blood. To no one in particular, he asked, “What happened here?”

The trackers set out to work, their hounds sniffing the camp, tails still wagging with excitement. The scent trail did not appear to end here. Delani was on the move, but before they went after her, Cullen needed to know what he was about to be stepping in to.

He, Solas, and Blackwall waited at the tree line for a few minutes as the trackers assessed the corpse littered campground. Cullen’s teeth were starting to ache from the pressure of him grinding them. There was little worse than just sitting around, waiting for someone to provide him with information that he couldn’t collect himself. Actually, that was untrue. There were many things that were significantly worse; losing Delani, for example, had been the single worst thing to have ever happened to him.

Just as his patience was about to near its end, one of the trackers approached him. They stood beside Cullen’s mount, staring up at him with what looked like admiration and surprise in his eyes. When the elf explained the situation to Cullen and the others, he realized that the sentiments were for Delani.

“The bandits were attacked, but not by an outside force,” the tracker started. “Judging by the footprints, it appears as though the Inquisitor killed these men, one by one, while they slept.”

Cullen’s eyes widened as he looked over the clearing one more time. Delani had done all of this? He should not have been as surprised as he was. She was a fierce creature, and she would have been infuriated by her capture and her treatment. It should have come as no surprise to him that she was capable of this and so much more.

“How many bandits are left?” he asked, returning his attention to the tracker standing on the ground below.

“Five,” the elf easily answered. His expression tightened with distaste when he made his next observation. “They will be traveling slowly. The Inquisitor is being made to walk and her footprints suggest that her ankle is twisted.”

His lip curled with fury. Delani had killed a majority of the men herself, but he would see that the few that remained were properly punished for what they’d done to her. For every injury that Delani had sustained in their possession they would be repaid ten fold.

Tightening his fist around the leather of Delilah’s reins, he bit out past clenched teeth, “Can you tell how much of a lead they have on us?”

The elf glanced back at his fellow trackers, looking for something before bringing his gaze back onto Cullen. “The campfire’s ashes are cold. They have a few hours on us but, as I said, they are making the Lady Herald walk. Her injuries will be slowing them down significantly. We should be able to catch up rather quickly.”

Cullen nodded curtly, accepting the report as satisfactory before ordering the man to, “Lead the way. We’ve already learned everything that we needed. I refuse to waste any more time.”

Crossing an arm over his chest in salute, the elf left Cullen to go speak to the other trackers. Cullen watched impatiently as they gathered the hounds and prepared them to move again. His stomach was uneasy and his heart was beating manically in his chest. They were close to finding Delani. If she could hold out just a little bit longer, he would bring her back home.

I’m coming for you, ma atishan. Hold on just a little bit longer.

When they started moving again he was grateful for the hurried pace of their galloping mounts. Even the horses understood his urgency. The small group cut through the trees, the distance between them and Delani was waning under racing hooves as dirt a leaves upturned beneath them.

It did not take long for the trackers to slow the group down, warning Cullen that they were close. Both Solas and Blackwall were fidgety with anxiety. They wanted to find Delani as badly as he did, they were just as worried for her. Delani belonged to every single one of them, she was their friend, their leader, she was the Inquisitor and none of them were prepared to lose her.

They came to a stop and the group dismounted. Cullen secured Delilah’s reins on a low hanging branch before joining the trackers with their ready dogs. Solas and Blackwall were ready beside him, the mage’s staff was gripped tightly in his hand, and the Grey Warden’s sword and shield were drawn. Both were prepared for a fight should the bandits decide not to surrender peacefully; a large part of Cullen hoped that it would be the case.

Following the lead of overly excited hounds, the group combed through the forest. After only a few minutes of carefully and quietly picking through the forest in search of tracks, they finally stepped into the sound of an ongoing argument.

“—blasted knife ear is unconscious again.”

Cullen’s heart lurched. He followed one of the trackers to some nearby shrubbery and crouched behind it. From their position they could clearly see the five bandits. Two were standing over Delani’s body, and the other three were shuffling their feet some distance away as they awaited their next instructions. His focus stayed on Delani. One of the bandits was blocking her from his view, but Cullen could see that her medium leather armor was caked in blood and dirt. The fire of outrage burned molten in his blood.

“At this rate it’ll be years before we reach the Storm Coast.”

One of the men combed their hair back. He had an air of authority about him and Cullen could wager that he was the leader of the small group. Casually rolling his shoulders, he replied, “Well, pick her up. My magic will not be able to wake her this time. We’ll carry her until we have to make camp again.”

Lip pulling back into a snarl, Cullen growled at the very thought of any of these brigands laying a hand on her. He looked at Blackwall and Solas, who were kneeling beside him, and ordered them to, “Keep the mage alive. Kill everyone else.” When he then glanced at the tracker it was to see that the elf already had his bow strung and ready. The elf nodded at Cullen, letting him know that he and the others were ready for whatever would come next.

Cullen stood from behind the shrub and cut through it, Solas and Blackwall were behind him as he stepped into the conversation. The bandits turned in surprise to face the intruders, but the slack of their jaws was the only reaction they were permitted before one was shot through his open mouth with an arrow. Solas unleashed a bolt of lightning from his palm and Blackwall ran his sword through one of the bandits that reacted fast enough to pull free a blade and charge toward them.

As the others dealt with the handful of bandits, Cullen went to Delani. His heart broke in his chest at the sight of her. Falling to his knees, he collected her from the ground and pulled her to his chest. All he could do was stare down at her for a moment. Pain and fury sweltered in side of him. Delani’s face was black and blue with angry bruises, and swollen to the point she was hardly recognizable. There was a gash along the right side of her face that ran from her brow to her cheek and the blood was still dry on her skin. Her lip was split open. Her nose was bent. And her neck was marked by bruises left behind by large male hands that had wrung it too tightly.

Waves of heartache crashed through him, the tide ripping him under the water and drowning him in guilt and anger. The woman he loved had been abused. She’d been beaten bloody and had even died. She was motionless in his arms. If it wasn’t for the rasping sound of her breathing, he might have thought that she was dead. Cullen hadn't protected her. She’d been stolen from him and he had been helpless to do anything. He had failed her.

Tears started to well before his eyes, blurring her bloody face from him. The weight of his failure was too much. Cullen blinked and his tears fell onto her cheeks. Pressing his forehead to hers, he held her tightly as he allowed his relief of her being alive to overshadow everything else he was feeling. Delani was alive. She was in his arms, and he would never let her go again.

Voice thick with emotion, he whispered, “I’ve got you. You are safe now, ma atishan. I’m sorry that it took me so long to find you.”

Chapter Text

The light streaming through the Dalish styled, stained glass windows was colorful, painting the room in hues of green and yellow. It had a calming effect, lulling Cullen’s anxiety enough to keep him seated in the love seat pushed up against the banister. He wrung his hands as he watched Delani get tended to by healers, his foot tapping nervously as he tried to give them their space as they worked. Keeping still was next to impossible, but he had already been banished from Delani’s side and he would not be welcomed back until the healers were done.

“You need to stay off your foot for some time, Inquisitor,” one of the healers warned. “We’ve reset your ankle, but the damage done to it will need time to properly heal.”

Delani simply nodded that she understood. Her lips were thin, and her gaze was distant as the mages finished with her bandages. When a woman stepped up to Cullen, his attention was pulled from Delani to meet the apothecary’s gaze. She handed him a container of a green colored salve, and some tea bags filled with bitter smelling herbs.

As he accepted the items from the woman, she explained their purpose to him. “The salve, applied three times a day, will help prevent infection on her cuts and will promote healing with minimal scarring. The tea is to help with the pain, and she should drink them as needed.” When Cullen thanked her for the items, she offered him a sympathetic smile before adding, “If she needs more let me know. I’ve given you enough to last a week, but it wouldn’t be a problem to make more.”

“Thank you,” Cullen murmured, dropping his gaze to the items in his hands. His heart was in his stomach. He and Delani had not had a moment alone since rescuing her from the bandits. There was so much that he needed to tell her, emotions that he needed to confess too, but it was never the right time. Either Delani had been sleeping off the worst of her injuries, or she was being looked over by healers. The proper time had yet to present itself.

It was more than that, he knew. The issue was that there was this rift between them, a wall built high that had not been there since their first meeting those many, many months ago. Delani had not so much as looked at him, and Cullen felt that he knew why.

She was angry at him, just as he was angry at himself. Cullen had failed her. As her general it was his job to protect her, to keep her safe, to guard her from the very thing that had happened to her. But he hadn’t. Cullen had been safe behind Skyhold’s walls when she needed him most, and now Delani had finally realized that he truly was not deserving of her love. He never had been. He never would be.

His fingers tightened around the salve, the herb filled bags churning in his fierce grasp. Cullen would prove to her that he was worthy. He would correct the wrong he had committed by not protecting her. Her every need would be tended to, and he would make sure that Delani wanted for nothing. He may not have been able to prevent her injuries from happening, but he would be there to make sure that she was being properly taken care of.

One by one the healers started to leave Delani’s chambers. The last one double checked the bandages around Delani’s ribcage before reminding her that, “You are not to put any pressure on that foot. I will return with a crutch for you to walk around with. Until then, I’m sure the Commander would be happy to assist you to get wherever you need to go.”

Cullen nodded that she had it right, but Delani’s gaze was on her lap. He had never seen her so diminutive before. Delani was the kind of person that exuded her own light, but that light was gone. It had been snuffed out, and Cullen’s chest ached with the realization. Those bandits had broken her more than just physically, they’d taken away something very dear to her. Her vivaciousness. And Cullen could not help but accept some of that blame himself. If he had done more, if he had tried harder, she would not have suffered at their hands. He had failed her.

The healer placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder before squeezing it. When he looked up to search her encouraging features, she assured him, “She needs some rest, that’s all. She will be back on her feet in no time.”

He accepted her words with a curt nod before his gaze fell to his feet. Cullen couldn’t bring himself to believe the healer’s assurances. There was something upsetting Delani that ran deeper than her simply needing to rest. The laugh that he could always find in her eyes was gone, the smirk that had always hinted under the surface of her lips had vanished. Delani appeared to have the life and color drained from her, and it filled Cullen with such incomprehensible guilt.

At the sound of the door shutting, he realized that they were alone at last. His heart beat picked up, nervously thumping as he thought about what he should do. Since the moment he had found her with the bandits, Cullen had refused to step away from her side, or to let her out of his sight. They had not gotten the chance to speak, and now that they had it he had no idea where to even start.

Setting down the salve and tea bags on the couch cushion beside him, Cullen pulled himself up from the loveseat and walked the short distance to where Delani was seated on the edge of her bed. When she didn’t look up to meet his gaze, he crouched down in front of her.

Desperately, he searched her features. Her sea green eyes avoided his, and her split bottom lip found its way between her teeth. Cullen’s heart lurched in his chest and his stomach knotted up. He understood why she couldn’t look at him, he could barely stand his own company, but her evasion still cut so deeply. He had worried after her, had nearly lost his mind trying to bring her back home. Though he understood the purpose of the wall she had built up against him, he could not accept its existence.

Cullen placed a gentle hand on her knee, quietly whispering, “Delani—“ only for her to clamp her eyes shut and turn her face away from him.

“Are Cassandra and the others here?” she asked, her voice as hard and emotionless as the wall that she had erected between them. Still not looking at him, Delani softly wondered, “Did they make it?”

He sighed, fighting with himself to not outwardly react to her evasion of him. “Yes,” he supplied, defeated. “Would you like me to bring them to you?”

Delani nodded once, a sharp and impersonal movement. “If you would please.”

“Very well.” Cullen pushed himself back onto his feet. He didn’t move immediately, instead he stared down at the beautiful woman who he loved so much, and racked his mind for ways to close the breach that now separated them. How did he fix this? When no answers came to mind he sighed again and went to go retrieve her friends.

He descended the stairs and left her chambers, but only made it so far as the catwalk before his emotions pulled him to a stop. The beat of his heart picked up in his chest, the frantic thump-thump, thump-thump filling him with anxiety and dread. It felt as though his insides were tearing themselves apart. He couldn’t breathe. His throat was tightening. Cullen leaned his weight against the stone wall and rested his forehead against its cold surface.

Forced deep, ragged breaths clawed through the tightness of his throat, Cullen clenched his eyes shut and tried to shove his emotions back down. How could he have failed her so completely? How could he have let this happen to her? An angry sob ripped out of him and Cullen hammered his fist into the wall, repeatedly punching the stone surface until he felt the skin break from the contact. When he knew that his knuckles were bleeding, that the bones had probably been displaced, he allowed himself to calm back down. He would make this right. He had to fix what had broken between him and Delani. Nothing else mattered.

Once his heartbeat had slowed back down to a normal rhythm, Cullen peeled himself from the wall and straightened himself out.  He released the last of his tension with a final sigh before returning to his task. He had to find Delani’s companions and inform them that she was asking for their company. After he was done with that Cullen was going to try and speak with Delani without her turning away from him in disgust.

Stepping out into the main hall, Cullen was surprised and relieved to find that Varric, Dorian, and Cassandra were loitering near the door. They had probably been waiting for their chance to check in with Delani, just as worried for her as she was about them. Cullen understood Delani’s desire to see her friends, she had thought that they had died. What he didn’t understand why she refused to acknowledge him. He could handle her anger, he could even endure her disappointment. Cullen could not, however, deal with her completely blocking him out.

She meant too much to him. Almost losing her had hurt him too much. He needed to hold her, to feel her, to know that she was truly with him, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet and hold his gaze. There were very few feelings worse than the ones he was currently suffering.

Her companions immediately noticed him exiting the stairwell to Delani’s chambers and rushed him. They were all still banged up from their encounter with the bandits, though none appeared half as bad as what Delani had suffered. His anger resurfaced at the memory of her bruised and swollen face, how her body was covered with bruises and bandages. He had not yet come up with a punishment befitting what had been done to Delani. But he could be creative if he put his mind to it.

Before they could bombard him with questions, Cullen informed them, “She’s awake and a little worse for wear.” He rubbed the back of his neck, working the tension from the muscles there. He could not ignore the part of him that was envious of Delani’s immediate desire for her companions when she had dismissed him so briskly. Setting his jaw, he exhaled heavily through his nose before adding, “She wants to see you, all of you.”

“Best not to keep her Worship waiting then,” Varric said with a joke in his voice, but the concern in his eyes was bright with sincerity. He turned for the door but stopped short before his fingers touched the handle. Looking over his shoulder at Cullen, the dwarf said, “Thanks for bringing her back, Curly.”

He bowed his head, accepting Varric’s gratitude even though he felt it unnecessary. Cullen loved Delani. There should not have been a single shred of doubt about whether or not he would go after her. He would have gone into the Void for that woman.

Varric and Cassandra both disappeared behind the door but Dorian lingered behind, closely inspecting Cullen’s features with concern in his grey eyes. Placing an affable hand on Cullen’s shoulder, he offered him a small smile and the words, “She’s safe now, Cullen. And that’s thanks to you.”

Grinding his teeth, Cullen found it exceedingly difficult to accept Dorian’s encouragement. Delani should not have been in danger to begin with. He should have done more to make sure that she was safe. He should have reacted sooner. Delani should not have suffered the way she had and he should have done more to prevent it. But he hadn’t and now she hated him because of it.

A sigh expelled from Dorian when he realized that his words had no impact. Allowing his hand to fall from Cullen’s shoulder, he said, “Lady Leliana wanted you to meet her in the dungeons. I believe she’s waiting there for you now.”

“Thank you,” he stated before glancing at the door to Delani’s chambers. A weight like lead sat heavy on the floor of his stomach, filling him with self-loathing and anxiety. He would speak to Leliana, and then he would speak to Captain Ophelia about how he would be tending to his paperwork from the Inquisitor’s chambers before returning to Delani’s side.

Delani needed to rest, and he would allow her, but he would not let her go through this alone. She might not want him by her side, but he would not be pushed from it. Cullen had already lost her once, he was not prepared to go through that another time. Never again would he endure that pain.

Turning on his heel, he walked down the hall until he reached the door that would help him find his way to the dungeons. There were two guards posted at the entrance, and both saluted him in greeting. He nodded at each of them before walking past to the cells that hung precariously over the crumbling ledge. Standing guard at the final door was a Templar, specifically assigned to keep their mage prisoner contained.

Leliana stood in front of the cell, her knuckles tucked under her chin as she closely inspected the prisoner. She didn’t look up when Cullen approached, but said, “I did not think I would be able to pull you from Lady Lavellan’s side,” by way of greeting.

“You call that knife ear a lady?” The prisoner spat from his corner in the cell. “She’s a savage! She killed almost all of my men!”

The Orlesian spymaster was unfazed by the prisoner’s rambling, while it took what little self control that Cullen had left to keep from reaching into the cell and wringing the mage’s neck. “I saw what she did to your men, and she gave them each a merciful death.” There was a wicked smile in her voice when she assured him, “You will not be so lucky.”

When Leliana finally turned to meet Cullen’s tense gaze, he asked, “What have you learned?”

“The Faceless Few were a failed mercenary group from Starkhaven,” she supplied, her accented words dancing melodically from her mouth. “They couldn’t keep contracts and so they lost their credibility and became highwaymen. This is their leader, Ayden McGregor, the last Faceless Man in Thedas.”

Cullen’s lip curled back in disgust. He had known that these men had lacked honor, but hearing his suspicions confirmed made him angry. Even criminals were capable of honor, some even had a code. But this filth preyed on the helpless and reveled in the madness.

To the prisoner, Cullen demanded, “What did you want with Delani?”

“Isn’t it obvious,” the man laughed without amusement, his voice shuddering as he violently shook from the cold. “I wanted gold, and lots of it.”

Leliana eyed the prisoner with an arched eyebrow, wheels turning in her eyes as she contemplated all the things that could be done to the prisoner. Without looking at Cullen, she explained further, “He wanted a ransom. He was going to offer Lady Lavellan to both us and the Venatori and sell her to the highest bidder.” To the mage, she prompted, “You did not expect her to put up such a fight, did you?”

Ayden laughed again, and it was a hysterical sound, before dragging his trembling hands through his hair. “That damned rabbit was more trouble than she’s worth.”

His teeth ached from how hard he was grinding them. Delani was worth any trouble, the value of her safety and her person was priceless. Cullen would have happily given his life for hers. This brigand could not imagine the treasure he was insulting so ignorantly. And to offer her to the Venatori, their enemy, who knew what those monsters would have done to her. She would have suffered so much worse at their hands.

Fury spread through Cullen like wildfire, he had a desire for blood that would only be quenched with Ayden McGregor’s death. “What will we do with him?” he growled.

Leliana’s shoulder jumped with a careless shrug. “We could wait for the Inquisitor to deal with him, have a public trial and execution,” she offered before tentatively adding, “Or we can deal with him ourselves. No one knows that he is here besides a few guards, Solas, Blackwall, you and myself.”

Her eyes narrowed on the prisoner, and her tone was dangerous when Leliana stated, “Justice has many forms, not all of them are doled out swift and painlessly.”

He ground his teeth as he considered her words. The option to deal with Ayden himself was a tempting one. How good it would feel to make the man know suffering the way that he had made Delani suffer. Too good. It would be too easy to torture the man, to make him beg for death as though it were the only release from his pain. It would feel too good to listen to his screams as Cullen repaid every broken bone, every bruise, every cut ten times over. It would be sweet, but the taste would be of revenge. Not justice.

Cullen hated Ayden McGregor for what he had done to Delani. But, in the end, it was Delani who had suffered at his hands. The decision of what should be done to him was hers to make and no one else’s. Though he would have loved to deal with the man himself, to take this burden from her shoulders, he would only do so if she asked him to. The prisoner’s life was in Delani’s hands, and that meant that he had time before she came to a decision.

Sighing through his nose, Cullen grumbled, “I’m not the one who he abducted and abused. The decision of what we do to him is Delani’s to make.”

He thought he felt a wave of disappointment radiate from Leliana. She nodded before looking past Cullen to the Templar waiting by the door. “Strip the prisoner,” she instructed, catching Cullen by surprise. “And if you forget to feed him every once in a while, I’m sure no one would take offence; or even notice for that matter.”

When she looked up to meet Cullen’s wide, questioning gaze, the spy master said, “He gets to live a little bit longer, that does not mean that he gets to be comfortable.”

Cullen didn’t have it in him to argue with her. He side eyed McGregor before nodding his approval. McGregor could live, but it did not have to be comfortably. It wasn’t torture, but it was the hospitality that he deserved.

Palming the pommel of his sword, Cullen’s gaze moved onto Leliana before he dismissed himself from the conversation. “I should return to Delani’s side.”

A small smile tugged slightly at the corner of her mouth at hearing him refer to the Inquisitor by her name and not her title. Nodding that she understood, Leliana said, “I’ll make sure that only the most important matters are brought to your attention. For now my people will consult with Captain Ophelia until you say otherwise.”

He bowed his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Leliana.”

She waved him off with a roll of her eyes and a muttered, “Go, now.”

Not needing to be told twice, Cullen left the dungeon behind. First he would stop by his office to grab the unfinished paperwork he had left scattered along his desk. Then he would return to Delani’s chambers and borrow her desk. He wanted to be close to her, to tend to her every need, but he also needed to be productive and keep his hands busy. Delani would need to rest, and while she did he would work.

With sleep had come nightmares. Delani had relived her death, had seen the murder in Wayne’s eyes all over again. She had felt his hands around her throat, had felt his fingers tightening, squeezing until her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She had felt the fear, the helplessness, and Delani was terrified of falling asleep again.

She was currently laying on her side, her back to Cullen, pretending to rest as she dreaded what would come if she did actually slip into another nap. She could hear the quill scratching on parchment as he worked, and pondered how a sound could be soothing and grating at the same time. His presence in the room was comforting, but it was infuriating as well. Delani didn’t know what was wrong with her, but she couldn’t stand Cullen’s company.

Actually, that was a lie. Delani knew exactly what was wrong with her. She was weak. She was a weak, helpless, hopeless idiot, and she did not deserve his attention or his affection. How could he possibly have feelings for someone as frail and powerless as her? Cullen was a lion, he was a force of nature that bent things to his will. He deserved a partner that could do the same, instead he had her. A broken fawn that couldn’t even take care of herself.

Her body ached, reminding her again of her time spent with the Faceless Few, of the care with which Wayne and McGregor had treated her. Her stomach twisted with knots at the memory. Delani had been in many fights, she had been cut, she had been broken, she had bled and she had nearly died countless times. But this had been different.

Never in her life had she been bound like a hog ready for a spit. Never before had her hands been tied while she’d been beaten. Delani had never been that kind of helpless before, and the memory of it terrified her. She had no one to blame but herself for what had happened to her. So filled with over-confident bravado, she had been so sure that she and her companions could handle the ambush without breaking a sweat.

Even when she noticed that their enemy’s numbers were too great, she had stayed in the fight. Delani should have sounded the retreat. She should have told her companions to fall back, to run for their lives and fight another day. Instead they had stayed. Her friends had nearly died and she had been abducted. Everything that had happened to them, to her, was a result of her own stupidity. Delani had suffered the consequences of her brashness, was still suffering its consequences, and now Cullen wanted to bear witness to the end result. He wanted to help her through it, to carry her, protect her, comfort her. But she didn’t deserve any of it. Delani deserved this pain, not his affection.

A mass started to form in her throat, dark emotions expanding through her chest and spreading through her muscles. They tightened with fear, with self-loathing, and the sudden tension in her body did not go unnoticed by Cullen.

“Delani?” he called to her, the sound of his quill scribbling on parchment coming to a stop. “Are you awake?”

No, she thought. There was no hiding it now, he would be on her in seconds, wanting to take care of her like the amazing man that he was, and the thought made her stomach roll. The thought of his gentle fingers grazing her skin, his touch tender as he helped her sit up, as he tended to her every need, it made her sick to her stomach. He couldn’t touch her. She didn’t deserve him.

She heard him get out from behind the desk, the sound of his boots clicking on the stone floor as he made his way toward her. Cullen rounded the bed until he was kneeling beside her. She clamped her eyes tightly shut as he combed her bangs out of her face, fighting the urge to smack his fingers away from her. His breath was a warm caress on her features as he sighed at the sight of her.

“How are you feeling, ma atishan?”

Don’t call me that, she wanted to snap at him. She did not deserve the endearment. She was weak, and the weak deserved to die. She had died. And dead she should have stayed. Releasing a slow, heavy breath she assessed her aches and pains and answered with an honest, “I’ve felt better.”

Delani cracked an eye open to find Cullen staring at her with worry in his golden eyes. She felt terrible for worrying him, but she also felt infuriated by his concern. He should have been just as disgusted with her as she was with herself. She had gotten herself captured. She had nearly gotten her team, their friends, killed. He should have been tearing her apart like he would a foolhardy soldier, not caring after her, not looking at her with such tenderness in his gaze.

“Here,” he murmured, gently grabbing hold of her arm. “Allow me to help you sit up.”

Self-hatred filled her with anger. She ripped her arm from Cullen’s grasp and snarled, “I’ve got it.” Wincing, she pulled herself up with a groan, and the effort left her breathless.

Delani had been helpless during her captivity with the bandits. She hadn’t been able to defend herself or escape. She had felt her single greatest fear, inability, and she never wanted to feel it again. That was another reason why she was so unreasonably infuriated with Cullen. He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to tend to her every need, but Delani needed to prove to herself that she was better than her injuries, that she was strong enough to never find herself in that kind of situation ever again. She couldn’t do that if he hovered over her, clucking like a mother hen.

She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, but couldn’t bring herself to look into his eyes. Delani knew that she would find pain there, and she hated the fact that she was the one causing it. All Cullen wanted to do was take care of her, and she was making that as impossible for him as she could. Delani wanted to take care of herself. She needed to prove to herself that she could.

“How’s the pain?” his worry filled voice reverberated through the room, making Delani want to bury herself in his arms and just cry, while also making her want to scream at him to leave.

Rubbing her brow to keep herself from snapping at him again, she sighed, “It’s manageable.”

He placed a warm hand on her knee and searched her eyes as he asked, “Would you like me to prepare you some tea?”

“No,” she bit out, her patience for his concern and doting waning by the second. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Why couldn’t he just let her wallow in her sense of worthlessness? Why did he have to insist on seeing her like this?

When Delani tried to push herself onto her feet, Cullen was up in an instant, his hand on her elbow and the other on the small of her back. Lip pulling back into a snarl, Delani ripped her arm from his grasp and nearly lost her balance as she did so. “I’m fine, Cullen. Please. Leave me be!”

His amber eyes looked at her as though she had just slapped him. Jaw working as he thought about how he could help her without touching her. After making a displeased sound, he walked over to the love seat and retrieved the crutch that had been propped up against it. He handed it to her and Delani snatched it from him.

As she awkwardly hobbled across the room toward the privy, she flinched at the intensity of her anger when he asked, “Do you need any help?”

“No, Cullen,” she growled at him, unable to hold back her anger no matter how badly she wanted to. “I don’t need your help to take a piss. I think I can manage.”

She slammed the door to the privy shut behind her and leaned her weight against it. Burying her face in her hands she fought back the urge to succumb to her tears. She would not cry, not with Cullen just on the other side of the door. He would want to comfort her, and that was something that she simply couldn’t deal with at the moment. Her emotions were a fucking mess, and she didn’t even know where to start addressing them. Creators, what was happening to her?

After several minutes of heavy breathing, Delani finally bothered to do what she had come to the privy to do. Her every muscle ached as she wriggled out of her tights and pulled down her smalls. She felt as though she had been charged by an angry druffalo during mating season, and absolutely every part of her was in pain. When she was done Delani lingered just a few minutes longer, hating that she had to go back out to her room and face Cullen.

It was the sound of a hissing kettle that finally pulled her from the privy. Delani stepped out to Cullen pouring the boiling water in a mug. He set the kettle near the hearth before turning to face Delani. There was an unsure smile on his lips and he held the mug out in offering, as though he were trying to make peace between them.

“I told you that I didn’t want tea,” she stated.

His brows knitted self-consciously before he replied, “But you’re obviously in pain, Delani.”

“I’m fine!” Delani barked at him, hating how much his concern melted her heart, loathing how badly she needed him to hold her. Delani needed to get through this herself. She couldn’t allow herself to be helpless again. Relying on Cullen to help her through this was to accept the fact that Wayne had broken her in every way imaginable.

Pinning him down with a spiteful glare, she growled, “I already have a shadow. I don’t need another one.”

Cullen set his jaw, his patience for her behavior at its end. Good. Maybe then he would finally leave.

“I’m just trying to—“

“I know what you’re trying to do!” she shouted at him, all of the anger, hatred, and disappointment she felt toward herself directed at Cullen. “But what you are doing is suffocating me! I’m fine! I don’t need your help!”

He did not deserve to be treated the way that she was treating him. Cullen had done absolutely nothing wrong. But Delani couldn’t stop. No matter how badly she wanted his comfort, she couldn’t accept it. Cullen was too good, and she deserved her pain.

Cullen set the mug of tea down on the shelf over the fireplace. Slowly moving his gaze back onto her, he locked her eyes with his and Delani nearly fell to her knees and begged for his forgiveness at the pain she found in his amber depths. She was doing this to him. What kind of monster was she to make the man she loved suffer because of her own shortcomings? She was a terrible person. If he turned his back on her now she would completely understand.

“What do you want from me, Delani?” It was an honest question, and not the least bit malicious in nature, though somewhat impatient. “What do you need me to do?”

“I want you to leave me alone,” she bit out. “I need you to go!  Why are you even still here?”

His chest puffed up with his own anger. His patience was gone. Cullen was done trying to coddle her. Matching her volume, he answered her question. “Because I love you, Delani!”

She immediately stilled with his confession, her eyes widening with surprise. Snapping her mouth shut, Delani carefully searched Cullen’s handsome features and found only sincerity in his eyes. Cullen did love her, and she was trying so hard to push him away. Delani didn’t deserve his love but she had it regardless.

Cullen’s confession broke something inside of her and Delani fell to her knees. She could no longer suppress the torrent of emotions violently ripping her apart inside. Those three little words had destroyed her floodgates, and now everything that she had been bottling up inside came rushing out like a flood.

“But why?” she begged, unable to wrap her head around his words. “How could you?”

Chapter Text

Cullen rushed to Delani’s side, easing her off of her knees and into his lap so that she was not pressing any weight onto her bandaged ankle. With his back pressed against the side of the bed, he cradled her in his arms and held her to his chest as she cried. This was not how he had planned on confessing his feelings for her. Cullen had planned something romantic, there were supposed to be candles, and soft caresses, he was supposed to look deeply into her bottomless green eyes. He was not supposed to shout his feelings out of anger and impatience, and she was most definitely not supposed to react like this.

Maker’s breath, they were a mess. He rubbed her back as she cried, trying to wrap his mind around what she’d asked him following his confession. Why? she’d hiccuped, tears brimming in her eyes, and something resembling self-loathing in her expression. How could you?

What a ridiculous pair of questions. How could Cullen not love her? The very thought was impossible, incomprehensible. Pressing a kiss to Delani’s brow, he breathed her in and held her tight before quietly asking, “Why is me loving you so hard to believe?”

She had not quite recovered from her tears, her face buried in the crook of his neck as she tried to regain control of her breathing. After a few minutes her breathing calmed from a hyperventilation to rough, ragged breaths and her voice shook when she answered, “Because I don’t deserve you.”

Cullen’s hand froze on her back. What did she just say? “Why would you even say such a thing, Delani?” he gently demanded, needing clarification as to why such an outrageous thought had even taken shape in her mind.

Was that why she had been acting so cold towards him, why she had been barely able to hold his gaze? Because she thought that she was unworthy of him? Cullen shook his head. Where would she even get such a notion?

Sea green eyes peered up at him, swollen and watery as her chin trembled with a fresh wave of emotion. “Look at me, Cullen,” she gestured over herself bringing his attention to all of her injuries and her current state of emotional distress. “I’m weak. I let those bastards capture me and I couldn’t stop them from hurting me.” Burying her face in her hands her sobs started anew.

Hysterically she cried, “I couldn’t do anything to stop them.”

Suddenly Cullen remembered Delani’s confession to him those many weeks ago in the the garden. It had been just after their victory at Adamant Fortress. She had confessed to him what her greatest fear was: helplessness and inability. Ayden McGregor had taken Delani and placed her in a position where her greatest fears were realized. Grinding his teeth, Cullen regretted allowing McGregor to breathe a moment longer. He wanted the Maker forsaken bastard dead.

He said nothing for a little while, just held her as she cried. Her tears trailed down his neck and soaked through his cloak, and Cullen’s heart broke for Delani. She should not have experienced the pain she had gone through, and she should most definitely not have been blaming herself for it. It wasn’t her fault. He didn’t understand how she could possibly think that it was.

Cullen knew that they needed to talk through this, lest she compartmentalize this as she had her father’s death. He knew Delani, knew that she did not like to work through emotions that hurt too much. But he also knew that ignoring this pain would only hurt her more down the line. He’d witnessed for himself how a decade of unaddressed feelings of guilt had affected her. Cullen would not allow her to put herself through that again.

“You were ambushed, Delani,” he reasoned, his tone firm yet gentle as he continued to hold her tightly against him, offering her his strength. “That was hardly your fault.”

She shook her head, her face still hidden behind her delicate fingers. “I should have retreated when I saw that we were out numbered. I should have told the others to run, but I didn’t. We stayed to fight and they nearly died because of it.” Her shoulders shook violently as a new bout of tears wracked through her. “I did die.”

He held her tighter with her last three words. Cullen remembered Cole’s narration of Delani’s final moments. He remembered with perfect clarity how it had destroyed him to be without her. For those few moments his entire life had lost its meaning, his sense of purpose had disappeared, and Cullen had been left in ruins. He should have guessed that surviving her own death was not exactly easy for Delani to deal with.

Clenching his jaw, Cullen reiterated his earlier argument, “It was an ambush. You couldn’t have been prepared—“

Ripping her face from her hands she pinned him with a furious glare, her anger was toward herself no matter how pointedly she stabbed her gaze into him. “I’m the Inquisitor, Cullen. That is my job, to be prepared, to make quick decisions and get my people out of every fight alive.” Grinding her teeth, her gaze moved from his face to the open balcony doors. “My mistake could have cost me my team, our friends.”

“Our friends survived,” he reminded her watching her jaw work as she chewed on his words. “Our friends are battle hardened veterans. They are seasoned warriors and know when to retreat from a battle. If you insist on calling it a mistake, then at least realize that it was not yours alone.”

“I’m—“

“Strong, capable, relentless, powerful,” he supplied for her, knowing that she would have chosen a different set of descriptions. Tucking his finger under her chin, Cullen pulled her gaze back onto him and locked her sea green eyes with his. “You were held captive, bound and outnumbered, and you killed more than a dozen of your captors. Delani, you were far from helpless, you have to see that.”

Tears started to well in her eyes again as she stared up at Cullen. She was searching his face as though the answer to all of life’s questions lay hidden in his amber eyes. “But they hurt me, Cullen, and I couldn’t do anything to stop them.”

His heart shattered at the sound of the hopelessness in her voice. Delani had been forced to live her greatest fears, and was too consumed by her imagined shortcomings to see that she had survived because of her own strength and perseverance.

“The men who hurt you have paid for their crimes, ma atishan,” he pressed his lips to her hairline and assured her, “I promise you.” The only man that was left to deal with was Ayden McGregor, and Delani herself would be able to decide what would happen to the mage.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Delani pulled herself more tightly against him, and breathed out a shaky exhale. “But there will be others. There will always be others.”

That was the truth, and also what Cullen dreaded most. Each time Delani and their friends left the safety of Skyhold he feared that she would not return to him, and that had almost been the case. He’d nearly lost Delani, if it wasn’t for her stubbornness and refusal to die Cullen would have been forced to taste what life would be like without her. But she hadn’t died. Delani had fought, she had survived, she had endured, and he was more amazed by her now than he had ever been.

“And you will fight them, just like you always do,” he countered, refusing to hear or think otherwise. Delani was not helpless, she didn’t even know the meaning of the word. “They didn’t defeat you, Delani. They might have made it more difficult for you to fight back, but you never stopped fighting.”

Her breath caressed the skin of his neck when she whispered, “If you hadn’t come for me…”

That was something that she would never have to worry about. Cullen had been lost without her, he’d have lost his mind if he’d stayed in Skyhold awaiting others to bring back the woman he loved. Tenderly combing his fingers through her auburn hair, he soothed her concern with the assurance, “I did come for you. I will always come for you.”

Delani pulled away from him a bit so that she could more easily look into his eyes. Searching his face with desperation, she implored, “Because you love me?”

His insides turned with the sadness in her voice. Did she still believe herself to be unworthy of his love, undeserving of his affection? How could he prove to her otherwise? He looked into her eyes, holding her gaze as his brows knitted together with bewilderment. “How could I not, Delani?” asked Cullen, unable to see from where she had derived that logic.

When her lips twisted with doubt, he reminded her, “You are incredible.” Cullen knew that he could say the words until he was blue in the face, whether or not she chose to accept them was her decision. But that wouldn’t stop him from reminding her everyday, until the day he died, just how much he adored every single part of who she was.

Cupping her cheek in his hand, he continued, “You are strong, resilient, kind, compassionate, and stubborn as a mule,” a very small smile hinted at the edges of her mouth, and Cullen was glad to see it. When a lone tear fell from her lashes, Cullen caught it with his thumb and brushed her cheek dry. He stared deep into her eyes as he said, “It is in your very nature to fight. You fight for the ones you love, you fight for what you believe, and you fight with a passion that takes my breath away. You have never been helpless, Delani. Even in the most dire situations you fight, and you survive, and deep down you know it to be true.”

She clenched her jaw and her brows furrowed as she searched for the truth of his words. Sea green eyes moved from his face to look at the empty space over his shoulder before her gaze fell to his chest. A defeated sigh spilled from her nose before she quietly confessed, “I was so scared, Cullen.”

Hugging her to his chest, Cullen breathed her in, before whispering, “So was I.” He rubbed her arm as he held her, feeling her warmth through her tunic, and comforting himself with the feel of her presence, her safely in his arms. When he pressed his forehead to hers it was with the words, “The thought of losing you destroyed me.”

Delani moved in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck so that she could press herself more tightly against him. Gooseflesh rose on the back of his neck at the feel of her exhales caressing his skin. Holding her, feeling her, being able to breathe in her scent was such an unimaginable comfort after what they had been through. Never again did Cullen want to release her from his arms. Never again did he want to let her out of his sight. Though he knew, some day soon, as soon as she was well enough, Delani would be leaving Skyhold’s safety yet again.

When Delani spoke it was she who comforted him. “You didn’t lose me,” she said, reassuring him with a gentle kiss on the curve of his neck. “You found me, you brought me home.”

His only reply was to wind his arms more tightly around her, squeezing her to his chest as he felt himself wade through the fear of losing her coupled with the relief of having her back in his arms. Cullen was glad to feel her warmth again, that she was no longer deflecting him with silence out of some ridiculous notion that she was undeserving of him. If anything, he was the undeserving one, and yet that wasn’t going to stop Cullen from trying every day for the rest of his life to be a man worthy of her love.

It had not gone beyond his notice that she had not returned the words to him. Even though he felt that he understood why she hadn’t, not hearing that his feelings were reciprocated made him a touch nervous. Did Delani love him? Had she just not said the words because she was dealing with a menagerie of other emotions at the moment? Or did she not feel the same way about him as he did her?

Deciding it best not to dwell on those thoughts, Cullen loosened his hold on Delani and gently nudged her back some so that he could get a better look at her face. He took in the sight of her with a sigh. The cut on the side of her face was an angry red, the bruises under her eyes were so dark they were nearly blue, and her bronzy skin lacked some of its color. Delani was exhausted, and if she wanted her body to heal properly then she needed to sleep.

He combed her auburn hair back until his hand settled on the nape of her neck. Offering her a worried twist of his lips, he wondered, “How are you feeling?”

She pursed her lips as she considered his question. Delani held his amber gaze and, hooking her fingers under the collar of his breastplate, she pressed her palm to the metal and sighed heavily before making her confession. “Terrible,” she groaned, her jaw tightening as she struggled to not show him the extent of the pain she was feeling. “Everything hurts and it feels like I’ve been run down by a stampede of angry druffallow.”

Cullen’s heart twisted with sympathy. He hated hearing that she was in pain, but reminded himself of the tea that would help with the discomfort. Deciding that he was finally going to take proper care of her, no matter how difficult Delani insisted on making it for him, Cullen secured his hold on Delani and stood onto his feet. Not for the first time, he marveled at how light weight she was. How did such a tiny little thing command so much authority, have so much strength and willpower? She was a fierce creature, and he was going to make sure that she was restored to her normal state of ferocity.

She made a surprised sound at being hoisted unexpectedly up from the ground. Cullen carried her over to the side of the bed and set her down on its edge. When he released her, he placed a kiss on the crown of her head before going back to the hearth where he’d left the tea kettle to stay warm by the fire. Preparing a fresh mug of tea, he strode back over to the bed and smiled at the sight of her gorgeous face scrunching up at the bitter smell of it.

“Drink,” he insisted, holding the mug out toward her and beseeching her to take it from him. Delani gave him a pleading look but, when she saw that he would not waver, she accepted the cup from his hands and gently blew the rising steam from the lip of the mug. He didn’t back away until she swallowed the first sip.

Satisfied that she could finish the beverage without his supervision, Cullen strode over to the love seat and collected the salve that he had left there. As Delani nursed her bitter smelling tea, he crouched down before her and opened the container of green colored paste. Knowing what he intended, Delani turned her face and allowed him easier access to the stitched up gash that traveled the length of her brow to her cheek bone.

Though he tried to be as gentle as possible, Delani still winced when he applied the salve to the cut. Apologizing for hurting her, Cullen continued to carefully dab the green paste onto her cut until his curiosity could no longer be denied. Without looking away from his task, he asked, “Did Ayden do this to you?”

Delani slightly shook her head, her jaw clenching as the movement accidentally pressed his fingers more roughly against her injury than he had intended. Before he could mutter another apology, she answered, “This one I did all by myself.”

His eyes sought hers and he was met by her sidelong glance. “You did this?” he breathlessly demanded, confused as to what would make her do such a thing. Flabbergasted, Cullen asked, “Why?”

The exhale that fled through her parted lips was heavy and he could tell that her explanation would hold just as much weight. Cullen braced himself for words he did not actually want to hear, and further reminder that he had not been there to protect the woman he loved from danger. Unaware of how much her explanation would tear him apart inside, Delani recited the origin of the cut.

“One of McGregor’s men, his name was Wayne, had repaid me for breaking his nose,” she said with such nonchalance, as though the ordeal she had suffered were little more than an inconvenience. Cullen didn’t know how to feel about her sudden flippancy on the topic. She had already cried and vented her feelings on the subject, perhaps the next step was to accept the events and move on; which was something that Delani seemed better able to achieve by pretending that the memory of the events didn’t hurt her as much as they actually did.

Cullen didn’t know what more he could do for her than just listen and offer her his strength. He would be with her through every step of her recovery, both emotional and physical. Delani would never be without his support again.

Speaking over his thoughts, she continued, “By the time that Wayne was done beating me, my right eye had swollen completely shut.” His lips twisted with fury. Cullen was glad that this Wayne was dead. But if he could have risen the man from the dead to kill him again, he would have done it in a heartbeat. “While he had been beating me, I managed to steal the knife from his belt and hide it. After the camp had fallen asleep, I cut myself loose. Since I needed use of both of my eyes in order to kill every last one of those sons of bitches, I had to relieve the pressure from around the eye.”

He stared at her for a moment, taking her in all over again. She was so strong, the strongest person that Cullen knew. Delani Lavellan did not deal with half measures. She fought with everything she had, and she survived no matter the cost. Screwing the cap back onto the small cylindrical container, Cullen placed the salve on the bed and turned Delani’s face so that she would meet his adoring gaze.

Committing her every freckle to memory, Cullen breathlessly whispered, “You are incredible, do you know that?”

The smile that unearthed on her lips was earth shattering and his heart swelled at the sight of it. Finally he had managed to pull free the Delani who had stolen his heart. The laugh was back in her eyes, the radiance back in her skin. Grinning down at Cullen, she said, “Yes, well, it takes one to know one.”

Cullen returned her grin with one of his own. He was happy that the rift that had yawned between them was mending itself back together. He cared too much for Delani to be pushed from her side, even by her. Together they would overcome their insecurities, both hers and his. They had each other, even if she hadn’t yet said the words back to him.

After a moment her smile was erased by a shrill, baby reptilian sounding yawn and Delani stretched her arms over her head, her joints popping as she twisted them out. Cullen was immediately aware of the dark circles under her eyes again. She needed to rest, and he was going to make sure that she got what she needed.

Picking up the empty mug from the mattress where she’d placed it, Cullen moved the sheets and patted the bed as he ordered her to, “Get under the covers, ma atishan. You need to rest.”

Playfully she protested, “But I’m not even sleepy,” and laughed when he pinned her with an unimpressed look. Crawling up the bed until she was under the covers, Delani grumbled, “Yes Sir, Commander Cullen, Sir,” before wiggling herself deeper into the bed’s offered comfort.

Unable to help the chuckle that rumbled out of him, Cullen pulled the blanket up to her chin and tucked her in. He brushed a kiss on her brow and turned to deposit the mug on her desk. Before he could step away from her bedside, Delani’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist. When Cullen looked down to meet her gaze, he was confused to find panic in her beautiful sea green eyes.

“Can you stay with me while I sleep?” she whispered, fear easily heard in her soft voice.

His brows furrowed and his chest was filled with displeasure. What was she afraid of? Did bad dreams await her in the Fade, memories of captors who beat her senseless? The thought made him furious at what had been done to her, but his sympathy and love for Delani vastly outweighed his anger. The smile he gave her was reassuring.

“Of course I will,” he said, his smile growing when she released his wrist with a nod.

Cullen crossed the room and placed the empty mug on her desk before he started to free himself of his cloak and his armor. Though everyone knew not to disturb him while he was attending to the Inquisitor, Cullen still had responsibilities to attend to. For the chance to spend the afternoon cuddled with Delani in his arms, he would gladly neglect those responsibilities for a few more hours.

Once he had undressed himself until he was in nothing more than his undershirt and breeches, Cullen crawled into Delani’s enormous bed beside her. Moving her auburn hair over the pillow, he tucked his arm under her head before pressing her back to his chest and wrapping his arm around her middle. He brushed a tender kiss to her shoulder and she hugged his arm to her chest in reply.

After he had settled into the bed, content to hold Delani until the end of time, he felt her inch herself more closely to him before prompting, “Cullen?”

“Hmm?”

Delani looked over her shoulder at him and the corner of her mouth twisted into a warm grin. “I love you too,” she confessed, rolling onto her back some so that he could see the entirety of her face.

Perching himself up on an elbow, Cullen stared down at the beautiful woman before him, gaping at her as his mind ran over the words again and again. Joy and relief thrummed through his veins. Deep down, on a level that he could not begin to explain, he knew that Delani loved him. But there was nothing like hearing the words and having his suspicions confirmed.

He caressed the side of her face before whispering, “Say it again.”

Her smile grew and she complied, “I love you, Cullen.” Combing her fingers through his hair, she held him by the back of the neck and locked his gaze with hers. “I always have, I always will.”

His lips crushed against hers in a flash. Cullen couldn’t help himself, he needed to taste her, to physically confirm that she meant those words and that the feelings would never change. She loved him! His heart fluttered in his chest, happiness bright in his veins like glitter dust. He had to remind himself to be gentle with her. She was recovering from injuries. It wouldn’t help her any if he started pawing at her like a lustful, love drunk buffoon.

When he tried to pull away Delani locked her arms around his neck and made a noise of protest against his lips. Smiling, Cullen gently loosened her hold on his neck and managed to break free from her trap. A light laugh bubbled out of him and, adoringly, he stared down at the elven woman who held his heart in her delicate hands.

“My lady,” he teasingly chastised her. “You need to rest.”

Her bottom lip jutted out into a pout before easing back into a foxy grin. “I’m going to need you to tire me out before I can do that, Commander.”

Brushing his nose against hers, he implored, “Rest, Delani. There will be plenty of time for that once you’ve had more time to heal.”

Her pout persisted. She rolled back onto her side with a discontented harumph, and pulled the covers up to her chin. “Fine. Deny your broken and battered Inquisitor the one thing she desires most in the world. See if I care.”

Cullen couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. She could be utterly ridiculous at times, and his heart filled with such love with the knowledge. Kissing her shoulder again, Cullen settled back in behind her and hugged her against his chest once more. With her scent of wildflowers in his nose, he sighed, “Ma’arlath, ma atishan.”

He could hear her smile in her voice when she repeated, “Ma’arlath, vhenan’ara.”

No, this was certainly not the way that he had planned to confess his love for her, but Cullen was still glad with the end result. Delani loved him, she needed him, almost as much as he loved and needed her. He could not imagine ever being without her and, until his responsibilities could be ignored no longer, he would enjoy holding her while she slept for as long as he could.

Delani jolted up from her nightmare with a start. A cold sweat covered her brow and soaked through her camisole, sending a shiver to course through her body. Burying her face in her hands, Delani scrubbed the lingering images of the night-terror from her eyes and groaned at the painful scrape of her hand against the cut on her cheek and her tender face muscles.

Once her body stopped trembling from the nightmare’s memory, it was for her to realize that the room was also rather chilly. She rubbed her arms and removed the comforter from her legs, reluctantly introducing her gooseflesh covered skin to the cold air of her chambers. Throwing her legs over the side of the bed she tried to get up, only to fall back down when the pressure of her weight on her ankle proved to be too much. Rubbing her fingers into her eyes again, Delani tried to gather her bearings.

Night had taken over the heavens, stealing the daylight from her room and leaving her with only the dancing flames of the low burning hearth to illuminate her chambers. With a glance to the other side of the bed, Delani noticed that Cullen had gotten up while she slept. When there was no response to her calling his name, she knew that he had left her chambers.

Upon rescanning the room Delani discovered that Cullen had moved her crutch to her bedside incase she awoke without him there, she assumed and smiled softly to herself at his consideration. She grabbed the crutch and tucked it under her arm. Without pressing any weight onto her bandaged foot, Delani pulled herself from the bed and hobbled over to the fire place. Fumbling a few logs into her grasp, she carefully placed them into the fire before stoking the flames, hoping to warm the room up a bit. Winter was upon Skyhold, and the nights were bitter enough to prove it.

Satisfied that the dry wood would catch fire, Delani looked over to the desk and an eyebrow shot up with curiosity. Set atop her writing desk was a wooden box that she didn’t recognize. From where she was standing at the fireplace, she could tell that it was an old piece. The corners were chipped and worn, and the wood did not gleam with the polish of newness.

Drawn over by her curiosity, she made her way to the desk to examine the box more closely. Carefully placed on top of the rectangular wooden container’s surface was a neatly folded note with her name beautifully scribed onto its surface. Immediately recognizing Cullen’s handwriting, she picked the note off of the box and unfolded it.

Delani,

Regretfully, I was pulled from your side while you slept by responsibilities that could not go without my attention. I swear to be quick but, should you wake before I return, know that I will be back with dinner and a healer. Also, I was going to give this box to you when you returned to Skyhold. Seeing as your arrival was a touch more dramatic than anticipated, I figured there to be no better way to lift your spirits than with a gift.

The water in the kettle is still hot, should you need more tea.

Love,
Cullen

She smiled, setting the note down on her desk before moving her attention to the box it had been resting upon. Her eyes widened with the familiarity of the leafless ornate tree carved onto the long, rectangular box’s lid. The bare branches reached for the heavens, swirls and dips were fashionably carved into the wood, and Delani was mesmerized by the elven antiquity. The box alone was a gift beyond comparison, and still she was tempted to open the lid.

Carefully pushing away the lid, Delani opened the box to find a knife resting on a bed of velvet red. The hilt was a deep burgundy color, made from perfectly cured snoufleur skin. The sheath was made with the same meticulously crafted hide. It was sturdy in design, with lovely embellishments of leaf and flower covered vines that wrapped around the leather in a way that was both feminine and practical. Carefully removing the knife from its resting place, Delani pulled the blade from its sheath and her breath caught in her throat.

The spotless stormheart metal was intricately designed with twisting, curling, and dancing vines. More leaves and flowers decorated the blade, etched into its surface in a way that would not rob the knife of its practical uses. Inscribed along the center of the knife’s long blade were the words Not Luck But Love, and Delani’s heart melted.

Cullen had commissioned the making of this knife as a replacement for the one that she had given him. Her grin grew at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. Expertly testing the knife’s weight and balance, she tossed the knife into the air and caught it by the hilt. She balanced it on her open palm before twirling it and tucking it back into its beautiful sheath. The grin that had expanded over her lips at the sight of the blade could not be wrangled from her mouth no matter how hard she tried.

The words on the blade hummed in her veins. Not luck but love. It was not luck that had brought her to the Conclave, but love for her clan. It was not luck that helped her to become Inquisitor, but love for the force she had become so invested in. Luck did not bring her back from the dead, but love for Cullen that made life worth living and fighting for. Luck would not help her defeat Corypheus; love would. Love for her clan, love for her friends, love for the Inquisition, love for Cullen, and love for the world as she knew it. It was said to be the most powerful force in the universe and, at the moment, Delani felt inclined to believe that notion wholeheartedly.

Clasping the coin turned necklace resting between her breasts, Delani fingered the warm metal and smiled. Thanks to Cullen she now had a wealth of both luck and love. She marveled at how such a man of his caliber could be real. How could one single person contain such love, faith, confidence, perseverance, loyalty, and understanding? But exist he did, which brought her to her next question: what had she ever done in her entire life to deserve him? Delani did not know, but she thanked the Creators for him all the same. She would strive everyday for the rest of her life to be the woman worthy of his love.

Carefully placing the knife back into the storage box, Delani shut the lid and traced the design on its surface. It was the symbol for Mythal, the great protector, the All-Mother, and the goddess of love, and Delani wondered if Cullen possibly knew the meaning behind the box that held his precious gift. Where had he gotten such a token, anyway? It was almost too much to take in. This gift was too great, and she had nothing but her appreciation and love to give him in return. Perhaps it would be enough.

She started at the sound of the door to her bedchamber opening. Turning to face Cullen as he entered, Delani didn’t bother to try and hide the smile that had taken claim of her lips. She smelled dinner before she saw him past the banister, and her stomach rumbled in greeting of her human lover and the king's feast he'd brought with him.

Eyes immediately spotting her on the other side of the room, Cullen stated, “Ah, you’re awake,” a pleased smile on his lips as he carried the tray over to her desk. “And here I was hoping to serve you dinner in bed.”

Delani’s eyes fell shut as he placed a kiss to her brow before depositing her dinner on her writing desk. Grinning up at Cullen, she countered, “Bed’s right over there, vhenan’ara. Give me a moment to hobble onto the mattress and you can feed me yourself.”

He grinned down at her but whatever retort he was about to make was cut off by the sound of Solas’s voice joining their conversation. “Then you should get to hobbling, lethalan. The healer and I have come to look you over before you eat.”

Sighing, Delani did as instructed and started for the bed, only for Cullen to sweep her off of her feet and carry her the rest of the way. He set Delani down on the edge of the bed and stood to the side so that Solas and the young female mage could assess her condition.

Solas grabbed her anchored hand and examined the green glow. Shutting his eyes, his hand hovered over her open palm and he sucked in a deep breath. As he gauged the anchor’s stability, the mage girl’s hands felt Delani’s every injury with gentle certainty. Her hands glowed with a golden light, and Delani felt it was her bones and muscles started to knit back together, the healing process sped along so that Delani could be back on her feet sooner rather than later.

The healer’s hands made their way to Delani’s ankle, where she focused the rest of her healing energy. A warmth spread through Delani’s foot and up her leg as the injury mended. It felt like the first beams of sunshine stretching across the heavens, the beauty of a brand new day radiating from her ankle. Delani would never understand how healing magic worked, but she marveled at the beauty of it all the same.

Once the mage girl released her hold of Delani’s ankle, she let loose a heavy breath and stood to her feet once more. She offered Delani a warm smile and informed her, “Your ankle should be feeling much better now. It will be tender still for a day or two, but you should be able to walk on your own now without any assistance.”

“Thank you,” said Delani with a grateful smile on her lips, rolling her ankle to test the mage’s words. A subtle soreness creaked through her limb as she moved her foot, but it was nothing compared to what she had felt earlier. Happy to have regained her easy mobility, she breathlessly repeated, “Thank you so much.”

The girl’s smile grew and she bowed her head in acceptance of Delani’s gratitude. “Your other injuries will need more time to heal, but I will be back tomorrow to see if we can speed the process along some more.” When Delani voiced her thanks one last time, the healer politely dismissed herself from the room, leaving her and Cullen alone with Solas who was still inspecting her hand.

“The anchor is stable,” he informed them, sounding relieved by the revelation. Smiling up at Delani, he squeezed her hand and said, “It is good to see you well, da’len. We were worried for you in your absence.”

“Emma eth, hahren,” she assured him, squeezing his hand in return. “There is no need to worry.”

A tender expression grew on Solas’s features and, gently, he cupped her cheek in his hand. It was an intimate gesture of the familial variety. Solas was dear to her, like the older brother she did not have. His blue eyes shone with both concern and relief, and Delani regretted that she had caused any of her friends to worry after her.

Small smile twisting the corner of his mouth, Solas replied, “No, I suppose there isn’t.” His gaze snapped to Cullen and his smile turned teasing. “Especially not with the Commander here to take such good care of you. You are in capable hands.”

“Yes,” Cullen easily agreed, winding his arms over his chest and quirking an eyebrow at the mage. “She is.”

Solas bowed his head, ducking so that Cullen couldn’t see his growing smile. He pushed himself back onto his feet and dismissed himself with a polite, “I will leave you both to it then. Enjoy your supper.”

“Thank you, Solas,” Delani returned. “Have a good night. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” he said in a final goodbye before descending the staircase and leaving her chambers.

At the sound of the door shutting behind the elf, Culled went over to the desk to retrieve their dinner and brought it over to the bed. Setting the tray down before Delani, he smiled at the eagerness in her face and the sound of her stomach rumbling in anticipation. Delani did not wait for him to sit on the bed and divvy up their portions before stuffing her face, her stomach didn’t have the patience for it and neither did she.

Cullen watched her for a bit, a grin on his lips that only grew as she moaned in delight at the exquisite taste of dinner. After a minute of unabashedly witnessing her shovel food into her overstuffed mouth, he laughed and suggested, “Maybe you should slow down.”

Delani shook her head, motioning her disagreement on the topic. “I can’t remember the last time that I really ate something,” it had to be over three days since her last decent meal. There was no way that she was going to slow down now.

He laughed through his nose and raised his hands in defeat. “Don’t let me stop you, then.”

His smile grew when she rebutted, “I was never going to,” and ripped apart a piece of bread before popping the bite into her mouth. When Cullen laughed she allowed a teasing smile to emerge on her lips.

Now that her stomach had at least some contents within it, Delani allowed herself to slow down from her hunger-crazed stupor. Using the bread to absorb some gravy, she met Cullen’s gaze and smiled when she remembered the box still seated on the surface of her desk.

“Thank you for the knife,” she said before bringing the bread to her mouth and thoughtfully chewing it over. When Cullen nodded as though it were nothing, she assured him that the gesture was the opposite of nothing, it was everything and he had to know that. “It’s perfect, Cullen. The thought behind it was beautiful and the knife itself is a work of art. It was an incredibly thoughtful gift, and I love it nearly as much as I love you.”

Though the expression on his face was elated by her words, his cheeks started to burn with a rosy color and he rubbed the back of his neck to disguise his reddening features. “I’m glad that you liked it. It seemed only right that I have another one made for you. I could not, in good consciousness, allow my beautiful huntress to go without a knife, after all.”

“How very considerate of you,” she responded with a laugh.

Finally managing to scavenge a few bites of supper for himself before she ate the whole damn tray, Cullen forked some mutton into his mouth and chewed it over, a smile on his lips as he held her gaze. “You are staring, my lady Inquisitor.”

Shrugging indifferently, Delani rebuked, “I also happen to like what I see, Commander.” When the tint of his cheeks turned rosy again, she requested, “You will stay with me tonight, won’t you?”

Cullen’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline before his eyes narrowed in reprimand. “You are supposed to be healing, Delani. I don’t think that making love to you will help that process along any.”

“I had no idea that you had such prolific knowledge of medicine, vhenan’ara,” she said, pretending to be impressed by his baseless diagnosis. When Cullen gave her a playfully pointed look, she clarified her meaning. “You don’t have to worry about me ravishing you, Commander. At least not tonight. I just want to spend as much time with you as I can. It’s not everyday that I can monopolize your attention without the entirety of Skyhold trying to pull us apart.”

His smile softened. reaching out to caress the curve of her cheek, the timbre of his voice was adoring when he said, “I’m not going anywhere, ma atishan. Tonight I am yours, as well as every other night until you banish me from your bed.”

Her heart warmed with his words. She could not imagine that such a day would ever occur. The night that Delani did not want Cullen in her bed was the day that the sun rose in the west and set in the east. Creators, she loved him so much.

Chapter Text

“Vhenan’ara, you were almost late for supper.” Delani’s voice was melodic, teasing like it always was as he entered their home. The smell of dinner was thick in the air, reminding him of his empty stomach, but before Cullen dared to steal a bite from the bubbling stew he strode the short distance to where the lithe elven woman was dicing some vegetables.

Stepping up behind his wife, Cullen wrapped his arms around her swollen middle and pressed a kiss to her temple. “My apologies, ma atishan, I was held up discussing armor improvements with Harritt.” Gently placing his hand on her shoulder, Cullen urged her to turn and face him and, when she did he pressed another kiss to the tip of her nose before falling to his knees and holding her belly in his hands.

“How are you feeling, my love?” he asked his wife while rubbing adoring circles on her baby bump.

Delani pressed her hand to the small of her back and let out a deep breath. “Your son has been impatiently waiting for you all afternoon.” As though to prove her point, Cullen felt a series of kicks against his palm and a grin expanded over both of their faces.

“See,” she prompted, “Between him and your other two children, I have not been able to get a single thing done today.” Though her tone was laced with irritation and annoyance, the glimmer in her eyes made it perfectly clear that she enjoyed every last second of motherhood, and would not exchange her lot for anything.

He smiled up at his wife, hands still splayed over her belly, and asked, “You think it’ll be a boy?”

The smile that curled her full, rosy lips was certain. “Only a boy would have the gall to challenge me in such a way.” She then combed back her long auburn hair before adding, “Besides, I have been craving salt chews all day. He has to be a boy.”

Standing to his feet once more, Cullen pulled his wife into a kiss, leaning in around the swell of her stomach. The affection served as a distraction so that she would not notice him reaching into the pouch at his belt. When he finally released Delani from his lips, she stood breathless and blushing before him. Grinning with satisfaction of his wife’s temporarily disoriented state, Cullen revealed the surprise he had picked up from the market.

Crimson eyebrows jumping with suspicious curiosity, Delani accepted the paper package from his offered hand and carefully opened the crinkly bag. A delighted grin expanded over her lips at the sight of the contents held within. “Salt chews!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him tight. One might have thought that he had been proposing to her all over again, not offering her a snack to stave off her cravings.

“How did you know?” asked Delani, digging into her treat and popping one of the chewy squares into her mouth.

A laugh bubbled from Cullen. “You mean aside from you pouting about how badly you’ve been craving them for days?” When she nodded he brushed his nose against hers and answered, “Let’s call it husband’s intuition.”

Giggling, Delani replied, “Then it is a damn good thing that I agreed to marry you.”

He pretended to be offended by her jest. “If for nothing else,” Cullen begrudgingly agreed before walking over to the table and sinking himself into the empty seat. Giving their quaint home a once over, he wondered, “Where are our other children, dear wife? You didn’t finally sell them to the wildlings, did you?”

“Not yet,” the assurance was accompanied by a sigh. The sparkle in her sea green eyes was joking, her laughter shining through her like it always did. “Though if they track mud into this house when they come home for supper, it will be the first item on the agenda for me to do tomorrow.”

Cullen chuckled at the mock-serious set of her brow, and her smile grew at the sound of his amusement. With her back to him, Delani started to pour him a drink. “They are playing with the neighbor children,” she finally explained. “They should be back before sun down.”

When Delani walked over to him it was with an endearing wobble to her step. She was heavy with child, though she still had several weeks left before she was expected to go into labor. Placing the goblet in front of him, Delani raised her hand in pointless protest to stop Cullen from helping her into her seat. When he got up to pull her chair out and ease her into it anyway, she thanked him for his assistance with a semi annoyed huff.

He returned to his seat and took the cup in his hand. Raising it to his mouth, Cullen paused when he pressed the rim of the goblet to his lips. The smell of minerals and metal filled his nose, an otherworldly song churned through his veins, and his stomach rolled. Cullen looked into the cup to find it alight with glowing blue liquid, arcane power wafting from its surface in fingers of white. The humming was loud in his ears, every beat of his heart amplifying the song until it was deafening.

Pelting the goblet clear across the room, he demanded, “What is this?” though he already knew the answer. Lyrium. She had tried to make him drink lyrium.

“You should be taking it,” Delani said, the smile gone from her lips, the laugh absent from her eyes. Her features were pinched with disgust and disappointment. When she spoke her voice was layered, a demonic chorus stealing the melodic beauty of her voice. “How do you expect to protect me if you’re not taking it?”

His mouth fell open and, for a moment, Cullen was stunned. Delani was his wife, the mother of his children, he loved her with every part of who he was. Surely if she doubted his ability to protect her then so should he. Shaking the doubts from his mind, he fought.

“I do not need it. I want no part of that life any longer.”

Her once beautiful face twisted with hatred. Delani’s sea green eyes flashed red and glowed from the inside out. “Take it or you will lose it all!” She shot up from her seat, the chair clattering behind her as it fell to the ground. Movements like a blur, she grabbed Cullen by the collar and pulled him toward her face with a strength that did not belong to her.

“You should be taking it,” the creature that he could not reconcile to be his wife seethed.

Through clenched teeth he bit out, “Never again.”

When she shoved him away it was with enough force to send him flying backwards. He toppled over the furniture and landed on his rear some distance away. Mouth hanging open in horror, he watched as Delani raised her arms and the fire from the hearth grew too large. The flames licked at the wooden floors, they reached for anything that would be infected by its heat, and in the blink of an eye it was spreading through the house.

“Delani!” he shouted for his pregnant wife, trying to free her from the demon that had obviously possessed her. As the fire spread it roared in delight, loud as it marched through their home and ate it with its fury. “You have to stop this!”

She stood amidst the flames, her skin blistering from the heat. The smell of burnt flesh was as thick as the smoke that now filled the house. There was no salvaging their home, and there would be no rescuing his wife. Delani stayed planted in the fire, her arms spread in unholy welcome of the pyre she had set for them both.

“Only you can stop this,” her layered voice echoed. “You should be taking it.”

Covering his ears to block out her words and the roar of the flames, Cullen screwed his eyes and screamed, “NO!” only to find himself immediately surrounded by a deafening silence.

He opened his eyes only to slam them shut again, the light that encompassed him now was too bright to face unflinchingly. Blinking several times, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light, he was finally able to focus on his new surroundings. Immediately he noticed the familiar weight of the armor he wore.

Cullen glanced down at his armor, recognizing the polished steel, the flaming sword emblazoned on his breastplate. He was kneeling in prayer, words repeated a thousand times, a plea sent forth with no reply. He knew the purple glow that now surrounded him. He remembered the gore that decorated the room, body parts and entrails strewn across the floor in an aesthetic that was befitting to only demon tastes. The smell of death and rot were thick in the air, the aroma a precursor for what awaited him.

Horror rose like bile in his throat, his stomach threatening to empty itself. He couldn’t be back here again. Not again. Maker have mercy, he could not endure this another time.

Standing before the impenetrable wall of magic was a scantily clad demoness. Instead of hair, purple flames danced from her scalp. Her skin was a pale lavender, freckled with bottomless black. Eyes of obsidian were marbled by a luminescent violet, which only served to make her seductive stare more terrifying in appearance.

“How will you protect the ones you love if you are not taking the one thing that made you strong?” Her voice was meant to seduce his mind, to lure him into her trap, and make him forget that lyrium had never been the source of his strength. It was an addiction, both a choke collar and a leash. The more he craved it, the more he fell victim to it. That was not strength, it was dependency, it was an illness.

He clapped his hands together and tucked them under his chin. Closing his eyes, Cullen muttered, “I will no longer be bound by that life,” before launching himself into yet another prayer.

“You should be taking it,” the demoness said over his mantra, slashing through the redundant words as though they had no more substance than an early morning fog. “Or you’ll lose all that you love.”

His eyes opened with her threat, the same moment that the doors to the harrowing chamber flew open. Screaming flooded the room, sounds of agony and horror spilling out like water bursting free from a compromised dam. Down the steps a bald mage descended, his steps plotting, the grin on his lips was malicious as he sauntered over to Cullen’s cage of evil energy.

The grin Uldred gave Cullen was wicked. He briefly scanned over him before moving his gaze behind Cullen, and his maniacal simper expanded further. The mage walked through the barrier as though it did not exist and, finally, Cullen noticed that he was not alone in this magical prison.

Huddled in the corner of the room was a lean figure with bronzy skin and auburn hair. Delani! his mind shouted, panic coursing through him. She was not supposed to be here. She was not supposed to witness these horrors. The moment that Cullen scrambled to throw himself between Uldred and Delani, the maleficar lifted a hand and immobilized Cullen in place.

He grabbed Delani by the arm, his hold strong enough to break bone, and pulled her from her hiding place. The elf woman animated under Uldred’s hold, her shrieking voice filling the room as she fought the mage for freedom.

Cullen could only watch helplessly as she was dragged from the prison of light. The second that their eyes made contact, recognition formed in her bloodshot gaze. Delani looked at him with hope, with such pure confidence and expectancy. She was looking at him as though he was her only salvation, but there was nothing that he could do. Cullen was helpless to raise a finger to save her.

“Cullen!” She screamed his name. Tears of panic and desperation streamed down her blood covered face. Delani fought for freedom, trying to pull her arm from Uldred’s grasp, kicking her legs as he dragged her towards and up the stairs. “Cullen, please!” her voice stabbed into his ears and shattered his heart. “Cullen! Help me!”

But he couldn’t. There was nothing he could do. He was trapped. He was always trapped. The moment that Uldred’s blood magic hold released him, Cullen ran to the wall of light and beat his fists against it. “Delani!” he screamed, hoping to the Maker that she would hear him past the harrowing chamber’s heavy doors.

The demoness was still watching him closely, her head tilted to the side as she witnessed his distress. “You could have saved her if you were taking it.” Her voice was soothing, warming his insides with hope that there was still a chance.

Cullen choked down the ember she had made spark inside of him. He had been on lyrium while serving in Kinloch Hold. It had not saved him then. It would not save him now. “Begone, demon! I will not listen to your filth any longer.”

“You should be taking it.”

He clasped his eyes shut and started to recant the Chant of Light. He had survived this hell once before. He would survive it again.

“Knight-Captain Cullen,” Meredith’s voice cut through the silence. He closed his eyes tighter, refusing to open them and be fooled by the demon’s tricks. “It has come to my attention that you have not been taking your lyrium rations.” There was a pause. “Do you want to explain to me why?”

Cullen shook his head, rocking himself as he repeated the verses that had tethered the last strands of sanity to him those many years ago. Between verses, he grit out, “I will not be bound to that life any longer.”

A heavy, gauntlet covered hand weighed down his shoulder. The Knight-Commander’s voice was stern, yet understanding, when she said, “You should be taking it,” right beside his ear.

His exhales shuddered out of him and Cullen opened his eyes to find himself kneeling in a sea of congealing blood. The crimson was thick on the ground, the stone hidden under inches of gore. He gasped, scrambling to get back onto his feet, but he fell into the blood and it sloshed around him. When he finally managed to pull himself up, he turned to find Meredith standing protectively before a gangly, mutated, Tevinter Magister. Her blade was held before her, her hands gripping the hilt and keeping the great sword steady.

Her eyes were glowing red. Veins of bright ruby light cracked under her skin. There were shards of red lyrium growing in shafts from her shoulders, like protective pauldrons, almost appearing to be part of her armor. Corypheus grinned at the sight of him.

The darkspawn monster placed an unnatural hand on the Knight-Commander’s shoulder. His voice was unimpressed when he said, “Do not bother. He is not strong enough, neither to join us nor to oppose us. Let him die with the others.”

Cullen whipped around at the sound of Corypheus’s dragon flapping down behind him. Kneeling at the other end of the pool of blood was Delani, her head bowed in defeat, her shoulders hunched forward as if her will to live had been drained from her. The dragon’s nails scraped through the blood as it inched its way toward Delani. Saliva dripped from its maws in anticipation.

“Delani,” he screamed, trying to warn her of the coming threat. Cullen tried to run for her, but it felt like he was wading through muddied water. “Get up!”

She picked her head up to meet his gaze. The life was gone from her eyes. She was dead inside already. Her lips moved and the wind brought her whispered words to his ears. “You should be taking it,” right before the dragon’s jaws closed over Delani and shook her like a rag doll.

“NO!” Cullen’s throat was torn to ribbons as he screamed. His knees buckled and Cullen fell into the pool of blood. The ground did not meet him, instead he sank past the crimson surface and fell into a deep ocean. A sea of red pulled him into its depths.

No matter how hard he swam he could not reach the surface. He hadn’t any idea which way was up. Before long his lungs ached for air when there was none to be found. He opened his mouth for it to be filled with the thick taste of iron. The blood burned as it flooded his lungs. Cullen was drowning. He was dying.

Finally his weakness had been his undoing, and his final thoughts were, I should be taking it.

His head throbbed as he was ejected from the nightmare. Cullen shot up on the bed, ragged breaths carving out of him as he reacclimatized to the waking world. Sweat was cold on his skin, the fire from the hearth was enough to warm the room but not to melt away the residual dread that chilled him to the bone. He glanced to the side to find Delani sleeping soundly beside him. Her arms were stretched over her head, half of her face hidden inside of the crook of her arm. The rise and fall of her chest was even, her breathing steady as she slept.

He did not want to disturb her, but after that nightmare Cullen needed to feel her warmth against him. He needed to reassure himself that she was real, that she was alive, that she was safe, and that she was his. With trembling fingers he reached over and brushed her hair away from her face. She grumbled at the contact and buried her face deeper into the inside of her elbow.

Laying the way she was left her neck exposed to him, and her ear ready to be tasted. Cullen laid back down beside her, perched up on an elbow so that he could lean into her more easily. He brushed a kiss on the curve of her neck and waited to see how she would respond. When Delani shifted slightly he pressed his lips against her neck again, this time his tongue snaked out to taste the steady beat of her heart.

Feeling his own heart rate accelerate with needy excitement, Cullen dragged his tongue from her neck to her ear, where he nibbled on the lobe. She shifted beneath him and he could feel the wakefulness of her movements.

"Cullen?" Her voice was hoarse with sleepiness. Her long, delicate fingers wrapped around the nape of his neck as he continued to lick and nip at her ear. Delani's breaths were more strained now, tightened by her arousal. Panting, she asked, "Are you alright?”

He knew that he could not answer that question honestly, so instead he supplied, "Ar nuvenin’ma, ma atishan." Telling her how badly he needed her in the tongue that she so adored.

Her grip tightened on him, her back arching like a taut bow as he suckled the pointed tip of her ear. Pulling in shaky breaths, she moaned in reply, “Emma nas. Sahlin ma nadas glac cad seihl’nas.”

With her permission eagerly, breathlessly, desperately granted, Cullen climbed on top of Delani and buried his face in her neck. His hands traveled the warmth of her body, following the dips and valleys of her curvy form. One hand settled under the crease of her breast while the other traced the well defined line of her abdominals. From ribcage to pelvic bone, his fingers tickled the surface of her skin until he was met by the lacy fabric of her smalls.

Delani’s fingers dug into his shoulder blades as she bucked against his hold, urging him to touch her further, to lay claim of every inch of her. Kneading her breast in his hand, he pinched her pearled nipple between his index finger and thumb. A gasp ripped through Delani, her back bending into his grasp in offering.

Flicking her earlobe with his tongue, Cullen huskily whispered into her ear, “Are you enjoying this, Delani?” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when she groaned his name in reply. He rubbed between her legs, feeling the moisture of her desire for him through the fabric of her small clothes.

As she writhed against his hold, he persisted, “Tell me what you want, Delani.” He bit into her neck, almost hard enough to break skin, hard enough to mark her as his. “Tell me what you need.” Cullen’s fingers deftly pushed her under garments aside and dipped his fingers into the slick heat of her arousal.

The moan that came out of her was loud, a curse on her tongue as she spread her legs further apart to give him better access to her. “Fenedhis,” she swore when he found the bundle of nerves in the valley where her petals, slick with dew, met.

“What was that,” he asked, scraping his teeth over the plain of her neck before soothingly lapping at the affronted flesh. He rubbed her in circles while simultaneously tweaking her breast, and kissing his way to her other breast. Maintaining his slow, torturous ministrations, Cullen took her other nipple into his mouth and sucked, hard.

Delani’s fingers moved from his back to his hair, where she firmly gripped him to her breast. “Fenedhis!” she repeated between her tightly clenched teeth, grinding herself against his hand between her legs, and dragging her nails over his scalp. “You, vhenan’ara,” she finally answered, barely able to articulate the words. “Ar nuvenin’ma.”

There were times, when she was so consumed by her arousal, when she lost control of her senses, that Delani seemingly forgot how to speak in the king’s tongue. Now was such a time. She was struggling underneath him, tossing and twisting in his grasp as she sought out the pleasure he was restraining to give her. Delani’s fingers scratched from his golden tresses, down his neck, past his shoulders, all the way to his backside.

Firmly she gripped him and Cullen rocked his erection against her leg. When Cullen suckled at her breast again, gently biting her pert nipple between his teeth, she threw her head back and let out an animalistic moan. Wanton vibrated in her voice. Her body shook lasciviously. A needy warmth radiated from her surface, speaking directly to his soul and stoking the flames of his own desire.

Cullen released her breast from his mouth, kissing her aggrieved flesh, his lips left a trail of nips, licks, and kisses as he made his way down her torso, dragging down her small clothes with him until he removed them from her body, tossed them over his shoulder, and he was settled between her legs. Her sweet feminine scent filled his nose, the ambiance was salivating, and an animal like need to taste and take consumed him to his entirety. His eyes held hers as Delani pushed herself up onto her elbows and stared down at him.

Without breaking eye contact he lowered his mouth to her lips, his tongue slithering out to taste her desire. He groaned against her sex at the taste of her, and Delani’s whole body jerked in response. Holding her hips steady, Cullen licked her to her entirety. He explored her folds, taking his cues from her moans, her hitched breaths, and how her body wiggled under his hold.

Her fingers were in his hair, nails raking through his curls, and scratching his scalp in reward for his undivided attention. With his face between her legs, Cullen expertly put his fingers into play. As he sucked on her clit, he eased a finger into her heat and marveled at her snugness. Her heat embraced his index finger, wet fire assuring him that he was giving her what she needed.

He continued to taste her, his tongue flicking, his mouth sucking, his focus unwavering as he slid a second finger into her. “Vhenan’ara,” she pleaded, grinding herself against his mouth. When he found the spongy flesh lining her inner wall Cullen started to rub the spot in a motion that beckoned her to come.

Delani’s moans were loud in the room. Her voice was spurring him further, encouraging him to push her farther. With his every lick, his every touch, she inched further and further up the bed, trying to make an escape from him as though the distance would protect her from the shuddering release that awaited her just over the edge. Before she could get away, Cullen grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back to his mouth.

Fingers rubbed her with more urgency now. Knowing how close she was to ecstasy, his free hand reached for her breast and pinched her pearled peak between his fingers. Delani cried out and he hummed in reply. It was the vibration of his mouth, accompanied by the attention of his fingers, that freed her from her skin. She was sent soaring into euphoria and Cullen lifted himself to his knees to watch her enjoy the rapture of climax.

With one hand covering her sex and the other splayed over her pelvis, he felt the pulse of her orgasm as the waves coursed through her body. Her hands were fisted in her auburn hair, her back bent upwards as she searched for breath. After a moment she settled back into the bed, her breathing heavy as a disoriented laugh bubbled out of her.

“Ma ar’lath,” she sighed, her voice was a thick and breathless whisper.

Cullen leaned forward on an elbow and stole her lips with his own. She moaned at the taste of her in his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Their tongues danced, sparred, synchronized as they lost themselves to each other. Without pulling his lips from hers, Cullen placed himself at her entrance and soaked the tip of his cock with the burning heat of her desire.

He moaned at the feel of her. He wasn’t even in her core and still she was too much to contend with. Cullen needed her too much, his body ached for their union. Pressing his sweat soaked brow to hers, he positioned himself to possess her and shuddered at the feel of her warm breath caressing his skin, her smokey voice filling his ear.

“Emma nas,” she whispered and Cullen plunged into her.

They both cried out as he filled her up. The embrace of the cradle of her hips was tight, possessive. The heat of her core was blinding. Cullen held his ground inside of her, taking a second to breathe and get his pounding heartbeat down to a reasonable pace. His teeth were in her neck. Her nails were in his back. And the scent of their intertwined, sweat covered bodies was thick in the air.

When Cullen was certain that he wouldn’t unravel with the slightest movement, he finally pulled all of the way out. Beneath him, Delani writhed. After whining an impatient, “Emma isala na mi,” a smile coiled the corners of his mouth and he obliged her demands.

Her name was a prayer on his lips as he thrust into her. His hips met hers with strained torment, his movements slow yet hard enough to jostle her with each impact. The sting of her nails clawing down his back was just more fuel to the flame. His need for her was all-consuming, his love for her even more so.

Cullen claimed her with each push and pull of his hips. The jarring collision of their bodies was more than need, desire, want, it was love. Delani was his heart, just as he was hers. Without her he was lost, and he never wanted to be without her again.

Moving his mouth from her neck to her lips, Cullen kissed her with the ferocity of every emotion coursing through him. As their teeth clashed and their tongues did battle, he hooked his arms behind her knees and placed her legs over his shoulders. The new position filled his veins with white fire, her core tightened around his cock, the embrace was deliciously suffocating.

The responding moan that came from Delani was a decadent sound, the new position rubbed her just the right way. When Cullen pulled away from her mouth it was to stare at the beauty laying beneath him as he lay claim to her. He wanted her to feel him for days to come. He wanted her to remember him with every step she made, for her to remember that she had someone who loved her, who was waiting for her, and who would be lost and in ruins without her.

The heat of Delani’s gaze burned through him. The adoration with which she was staring at him was breathtaking. Their gazes remained locked as a thousand unspoken words passed between them. Never in his life had he felt so possessed by another. Delani was every element that kept him alive. She was the air in his lungs, the ground to which he was tethered. She was life water and burning passion, and Cullen was desperately, irrevocably, inarguably in love with her.

Delani’s breath quickened and the furrow of her brow was telling. Cullen watched, mesmerized, as he pushed her nearer and nearer to the edge with each thrust. Soon her walls were closing in around him, squeezing him tightly as the throb of orgasm riveted through her. Her moans were loud as she found release, her fingers tightening around his arms as she held onto him as though for dear life.

Watching her find satisfaction was like witnessing a sunrise. She was beautiful, breathtaking, and he was in awe of her. He allowed her legs to fall from his shoulders before hugging his arms around her waist and lifting her pelvis to brunt his every thrust. Cullen could feel his own completion coming down on him, and he wanted to be completely surrounded by Delani’s ambiance when he finally came undone.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly as Cullen pounded into her. The feeling of her tongue on his neck and licking his ear sent shivers down his spine. Already he was so close, but it was only when Delani clenched her pelvic muscles around him with a whispered, “Ma’arlath,” that he finally unraveled.

“I love you,” he groaned as his body shook with the intensity of his release. The words were repeated like a breathless mantra as his seed spilled inside of her. Emotions swept through him in wake of the disorienting release of orgasm. Fear, dread, all consuming worry, they all weighed heavily like bricks of lead in his stomach. Cullen had always known fear of losing Delani but, after that nightmare, it was no longer something that he could ignore with halfhearted reassurances. She would leave for the field again come morning, and he was afraid that she would not return.

He pressed a long, lingering kiss to her lips before rolling off of her. When Delani snuggled to his side and rested her head on his chest, Cullen absently combed his fingers through her auburn hair. Few words passed between them before she succumbed to sleep once more. Cullen envied the peaceful slumber that she’d found in wake of their union. He would not be so lucky. Fear of dreaming of losing her again kept him wide awake for the rest of the night.

Already a nauseating migraine was creeping through his skull.

Hours had passed and his migraine hadn’t lessened. If anything, the thunderous ache in his head had gotten worse. After a sleepless night, Cullen had left Delani’s chambers before even the sun had risen. He had hoped to distract his pained and restless mind with work, and he had achieved discouragingly little.

The ache of withdrawal was the worst it had been in a long time. The pain was unbreakable. His every muscle felt as though they were about to fall right off of his body, and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. Cullen’s nerves were fried, his patience was non-existent. Already he had chewed out half a dozen soldiers for little more than bad posture and lollygagging.

Cullen was not even at the best of his worst, the day had only just begun and it felt as though he hadn’t slept in years. The pain was relentless, it was unbearable, and he had to blink back tears as a new wave of agony tore his skull apart.

Was this how it was going to be? Would Cullen never know peace again? He could not command men in his current position. He couldn’t even command his eyes to stop watering. He couldn’t expect to serve the Inquisition in this condition. Cullen was useless as a commander and he was useless as a man. He had failed the Order and he had failed Delani, how could he have ever assumed that he wouldn’t fail the Inquisition too? What else was he good at if not failing? The Inquisition deserved better than this. Delani deserved better than this.

I should be taking it.

The soldiers around him, giving him their reports, jumped when Cullen furiously brought his fist down on his desk. He clenched his teeth, biting back the apology that tried to follow his outrage. Without looking any of his men in the eye, he curtly dismissed himself.

“I must speak with Cassandra,” he growled before marching out of his office with strides that did little to mask his pain.

He needed to talk to the Seeker, to remind her of their arrangement and to make sure she held up her end of the bargain. She would see the truth. With a glance she would see that he was no longer qualified to maintain his position. Cassandra would help him set things right.

With her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth, Delani added the finishing touches to the figurine that she had spent the last two weeks hiding from Cullen. Getting the wooden statue done in secret had been a near impossible task. Since rescuing her from the Faceless Few, Cullen had not let her out of his sight. The only time he left her alone was when she pretended to take a nap and he would scuttle off to address his responsibilities. Carving a statuette in the small time frame was tricky work, but finally Delani was done.

She was leaving for Orlais in an hour, and she wanted to give the statuette to him as a gift, as a token of her affections. With her brand new carving knife, Delani etched the last curling designs into the lion’s mane. He was a magnificent little beast, standing threateningly on his hind legs and his mouth was open as though he were letting out a fearsome roar. It had taken a lot of patience and careful attention to detail to balance the figure’s weight so that he would stand on two legs without toppling over. But Delani’s design was sound, and the lion stood as tall and proud as the human she planned on giving it to.

It was a fitting figurine for the man she loved, she thought. Cullen was her fierce protector. He stood for what he believed in and he did not flinch when things were difficult. Confidently he led men, unwaveringly he made difficult decisions. Cullen was a man of honor, nobility, and pride, and there was no other animal more befitting his character than a lion. She was just glad that she had finished the statuette in time.

She blew on the wood, clearing off the remnant flecks of sliced off wood before brushing her fingers over the figure. Smiling contentedly, Delani pushed herself off of her balcony banister and, striding back into the warmth of her room, she set the lion down on her desk. Her simper grew when the statuette didn’t fall over, and Delani turned to put on her armor.

Her two weeks of recovery had been both too long and too short. It hadn’t taken long for Delani to succumb to boredom, and it took even less time for Josephine to provide paperwork as a distraction from that boredom. While she wouldn’t miss hiding around Skyhold to avoid the relentless Antivan ambassador, she would miss the time that she had spent at Cullen’s side.

They had spent hours together, talking and learning more about one another. When she was tired of paperwork and people Delani would run to Cullen’s office and hide in his loft. The man would act as her guard and keep watch for her. She could only imagine the face he would give those who came to seek her out while she was hiding under the covers of his bed. The memory of his expression stern, and unyielding brought a smile to her face. Cullen was her defender and her protector, and she loved him so much that she could hardly find the words to articulate it.

Strapping on the last of her armor, Delani checked to make sure her new knife was secured to her belt and that everything was in place. Satisfied that she wasn’t forgetting anything, she retrieved the lion from her desk and left her chambers for Cullen’s office. She still had time before she had to meet her companions at the stables so that they could ride out, and she intended to spend that time in Cullen’s company.

When she felt the soreness in her legs from the simple task of walking, Delani knew that riding was going to be uncomfortable. Yet she still smiled at the dull ache. Cullen had woken her up to a night of passion. He had consumed her, possessed her, marked her so thoroughly that her very soul was branded by him. He had made love to her and Delani would not soon forget the intensity of it. 

She hummed as she strode through the main hall, smiling at the dawdling nobles as she passed them. For once her smile was not forced out of politeness. Delani was happy, the happiest she had ever been and it was because of Cullen. If she lived to be a thousand she would never know what she did to be worthy of him, but that wasn’t going to stop her from enjoying every moment she had with him.

Solas was not in the rotunda when she cut through it, and she figured that he was speaking with Blackwall at the stables awaiting her arrival. Sera was probably with them, joking with Blackwall about his beard or some other nonsense. Delani and the other elf woman were on good terms for the time being. Sera’s concern for Delani had been evident by the cookies delivered to her room, and Delani was hopeful that they could travel these next few weeks without ending up at each other’s throats.

A cool wind greeted her when she stepped outside. Any day now they were expecting snow to start falling from the heavens, and Delani was glad that she was going to Orlais before that could happen. Before her business was done there, she was going to stop by Val Royeaux and see about buying some warm winter clothes that would do Vivienne proud. If she had to suffer through cold and snow, the least she could do was suffer it in style.

Pushing open the door to Cullen’s office, Delani was surprised to find it empty. Cullen had left her bed early that morning, up before the crack of dawn to get a head start on his work. She had expected him to stay at his desk until the time came for her group to leave. To not find him there was curious.

“Where is the Commander?” she asked the lone soldier that stood post in his office.

The young man was standing at attention and his tone was respectful when he informed her, “He went to speak with Seeker Pentaghast, Lady Inquisitor.”

“What about?”

Bowing his head apologetically, he supplied, “He did not say, Your Worship.”

Thanking the boy for the information, Delani left Cullen’s office and stepped onto the battlements. Taking the path that would lead her to the training grounds, Delani wondered whether or not she should seek Cullen out. The conversation that he was having with Cassandra was likely private in nature, and he would tell her what it was about when he was ready to. But Delani couldn’t wait for their conversation to end. She and the others would be leaving soon, and she wanted to give Cullen the lion statue before she disembarked to the west.

Descending from the battlements onto the courtyard, Delani frowned when she found the practice grounds empty. Perhaps this really was a private conversation if Cassandra and Cullen had stepped away to have it elsewhere. Despite her best intentions to give them the privacy they desired, Delani was too curious now to stop seeking them out. She wanted to know what was going on before she left Skyhold.

She searched the nearby buildings and was relieved when she found them in the first one she entered. Cullen and Cassandra were standing in front of a burning flame. He was holding his face in his hand, his expression and posture spoke volumes of the pain he was suffering, and Delani’s heart broke for not having noticed it sooner. Now Delani understood why he had left her bed so early in the morning, why he had decided to drown himself in work. Cullen was in pain and she hadn’t even noticed.

“Would you rather save face than admit—“ Cullen’s argument was cut off by Delani’s entrance. The look of surprise on his face was quickly eclipsed by shame. His jaw worked as he watched her approach them, his brows furrowed with self-loathing and embarrassment. Before she could join their conversation, Cullen started for the door and murmured a sorrowful, “Forgive me,” as he strode past her.

Both Delani and Cassandra watched Cullen’s retreat in silence. When the door shut behind him, Delani glanced down at the statue still in her hands before she turned a questioning look onto Cassandra, and the woman sighed in reply.

“And people say I’m stubborn.” Her arms were crossed over her chest and her expression was tight with annoyance even if her brown eyes shone bountiful with concern. With a deep sigh, she expelled her frustration with a grumbled, “This is ridiculous.”

Cassandra’s expression changed as she moved on to answer the question still lingering in Delani’s eyes. Quirking an eyebrow, she started with the question, “Cullen told you that he’s no longer taking lyrium?”

She nodded in reply. “Yes,” Delani provided, remembering the conversation. The confession had turned into an argument, but she supported his decision all the same. She admitted as much to Cassandra, whose eyes glittered with approval.

“As do I, not that he’s willing to listen,” Lifting her hand from her arm, Cassandra rubbed her fingers into her eyes and let loose another sigh. The human woman knew the weight of this topic, and was not one to take such matters lightly. “Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him.”

Delani’s eyebrows shot upward. Was it that bad? Why hadn’t he said anything? But Delani already knew the answer to that question. She had been recovering from her abduction. Delani had been an emotional wreck, and Cullen had been there to support her. He had anchored her and stayed with her throughout the entire course of her recovery. He had been so focused on her that he had not dared to show that he was also struggling. Delani felt like a fool.

To Delani’s surprised expression, Cassandra assured her, “I refused. It’s not necessary.” Looking away from Delani and into the burning fire, she softly added, “Besides, it would destroy him. He’s come so far.”

To herself, Delani whispered, “Why didn’t he come to me?”

“We had an agreement long before you joined us,” Cassandra reminded her, trying to redirect any hard feelings onto herself and away from Cullen. “As a Seeker I could evaluate the dangers, and he wouldn’t want to—“ she cut herself off before giving Delani a sidelong glance. Quietly she finished, “risk your disappointment.”

“What do I do?” Delani pleaded with the Seeker, feeling out of her depth on this subject so foreign to her. Everything that Delani knew of Templars and lyrium had been learned after joining the Inquisition. This was not a topic that she knew how to approach. But Cassandra was human, she had served the Divine and had worked closely with Templars. She would know what Delani should do.

“Talk to him,” she simply supplied. “Cullen has a chance to break his lyrium leash, to prove to himself, and anyone who would follow suit, that it’s possible. He can do this. I knew that when we met in Kirkwall.”

Turning on her heel toward the door, Cassandra led Delani back out onto the courtyard and instructed her to, “Go to him and help him decide if now is the time.”

Delani watched for only a moment as Cassandra returned to the training ground to supervise the recruits, before turning back toward Cullen’s office. Her gaze remained on the figurine as she walked, her fingers feeling over it’s surface. Her lion was in pain. He was suffering and she was about to leave him to endure it alone. After everything that he had done for her she was going to abandon him. As much as Delani wanted to stay by his side and support him through this, her departure to Orlais could not be put off any longer. She had to go and she felt terrible because of it.

The door to his office was open when she arrived, and she had only a moment to set foot inside and notice him furiously picking his shaving kit off of his desk and hurling it through the room, before she  ducked to avoid being hit by the projectile.

Immediately Cullen stammered out a heartfelt apology for his unwitting attack. “Maker’s breath, I didn’t hear you enter.” Horror filled his amber eyes at the prospect of accidentally hurting her, and his frown deepened at the sight of her smiling softly in assurance that no harm had been done.

“I—“ he shook his head, a look of self-hatred twisting his features as he exhaled, “Forgive me.”

She started for his desk, her concern for him too great for her to think of anything else. With one look at him she could tell that he was not okay. Delani decided that she couldn’t leave Skyhold, not today, not while he was like this. He had been there for her when she needed him most. Now it was her turn to do the same for him.

“Cullen, if you need me to stay—“

He started to round his desk, saying, “You don’t have to—“ before he nearly toppled under the pressure of his pain.

Delani started for him and he waved her back, refusing her help like a stubborn halla. Delani didn’t care. She stepped up beside him and, with her hand on his elbow, she helped him back up until he was standing straight once more. She tried not to show with her eyes just how much her heart was bleeding for him, Cullen would mistake her concern for pity and she didn’t want him to think that for a second.

“I didn’t mean for this to interfere,” he sighed, defeated.

Combing her fingers through his golden tresses, she assured him, “I know you didn’t, vhenan’ara.”

He rubbed the ache from his temple with the grumbled words, “Whatever good it does.” Without looking at Delani, Cullen quietly finished, “Promises mean nothing if I can’t keep them,” and she knew that he was speaking about her.

What promises was he referring to? Because Delani could not think of a single one that he had made her that he hadn’t kept. Cullen was a man of his word, valiant until the end. That still held true even when he was blinded by the pain of withdrawal.

“You’ve asked about what happened in Ferelden’s Circle,” he started, swaying a bit on his feet and blinking hard. There were beads of sweat on his brow and Delani could see how much pain he was in by the tightness in his amber eyes. She could hardly see how a question she had asked months ago now held any relevance, especially when he was feeling like this, but Delani remained quiet so that he could continue uninterrupted.

His eyes grew distant as he recalled the story he had refused to share with her those months ago. “It was taken over by abominations. The Templars, my friends were slaughtered.” Jagged breaths tore from him and his eyes were watering, though Delani couldn’t tell if it was from the physical pain of his body, or the emotional pain of his memories.

He turned from her and strode toward the window. Staring out at the snow covered mountains surrounding Skyhold, Cullen muttered, “I was tortured. They tried to break my mind and I—“ a self-deprecating laugh tore through him. He shook his head and wondered, “How can you be the same person after that?”

With a shake of his head he continued, “Still, I wanted to serve.” It was unsurprising. Cullen was not one to sit idle when there was work to be done. “They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander and for what? Her fear of mages ended in madness. Kirkwall’s Circle fell.”

Anger was heavy in his voice. Anger at the circumstances, anger at his superior, anger at himself and the role he had played in this story he was sharing. Cullen had fallen. He had seen into the Void and it had shaken him. But the man he was then was nothing like the man he was now. Delani loved Cullen with everything that she was, and she could not stand to see him like this.

“Innocent people died in the streets,” he said before turning to meet her gaze again. “Can’t you see why I want nothing to do with that life?”

She shook her head to show that she would not argue with him on this. Cullen had suffered greatly in the past. He had faltered and he had known failure, but he had also grown. Time had helped to mend most of his wounds. The rest they could overcome together. He had been there for her, now she would show him the same kindness.

“Of course I can—“

“Don’t,” he cut her off before she could give voice to her support. His expression was tight, angry at himself and at her for not hating him the way he hated himself. “You should be questioning what I’ve done.” But she couldn’t, because what he had done did not define who he was.

Cullen started to pace his office. His every step was filled pain and misery. “I thought this would be better,” he said. “I thought that I could regain some control of my life but these thoughts won’t leave me.” Still pacing the room, his hands moved as he spoke, the desperation he felt evident in every wave and every step.

“How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause. I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry.” Hands curling into tight and shaking fists he growled, “I should be taking it,” before viciously beating his fist into the bookshelf and seething, “I should be taking it.”

Her heart broke for him. Her proud and mighty lion was in so much pain. He wanted to give everything that he was to the things he loved. But the decision to stop taking lyrium had been well made. Lyrium had been a cage, a prison. It took more from him than it had ever given in return. Cullen did not want to take lyrium and whatever was making him question his decision not to could not come before what he wanted.

Delani stepped up to Cullen and gently reminded him, “This doesn’t have to be about the Inquisition. Is this what you want?”

There was a moment where they simply stared at one another, his expression tense and hers was expectant. Relief filled her veins when his fist loosened and he let loose a heavy breath.

“No,” he answered quietly. Eyes filled with sadness and a burden she would never be able to understand. Cullen said, “But these memories have always haunted me. If they become worse, if I cannot endure this—“

She placed the lion statue to his chest and held it there until his fingers wrapped around hers. Cullen’s gaze dropped to the wooden figure and stared at it for a moment. When he looked up to meet her gaze there was hope in his eyes and, without the slightest hint of doubt, Delani assured him, “You can.”

Cullen sighed, eyes falling to the lion in his grasp. Thumbing over the wooden statue, a hint of a smile toyed with the corner of his mouth. Amber eyes sought her out and he nodded that he would continue to try. “Alright,” Cullen agreed, reaching up to cup her face in his hand.

Holding his gaze, it became clear to see that Delani could not stay in Skyhold. Cullen needed his space, he needed to overcome his pain alone, one last time. She had helped him already, and she would have to remain satisfied with what little she’d done. He had shared his soul with her, and now he needed to rebuild the walls that he fortified against everyone else so that they would not witness what she had just seen. She knew every part of him now, as he knew all of her. They would always support and encourage one another but, for now, he needed to rely on himself.

Delani could understand the need for space, and did not begrudge him for it. She would go to Orlais, and when she returned they would be together again. Now they both would have something to remind each other of one another. She had the ache between her legs, and he had a lion made of wood.

Wrapping her fingers around the nape of his neck, Delani pulled his lips down to hers and stole a kiss from him. It was long, needy, a departing token of affection. When their lips parted she pressed her forehead to his and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he returned, his fingers brushing back her auburn hair before he pulled away to stare down at her. With a finger under her chin, he lifted her gaze to his and wondered, “You’ll come back to me, won’t you?”

A smile lifted her lips and Delani nodded. “I will always come back to you, vhenan’ara. Not even death can keep me from your arms.”

His lips twisted at her choice of words. “Then I will impatiently await your return.”

There was one last thing that they needed to deal with, one final item that needed to be addressed before they could both find closure with what had happened to Delani. She had put it off for long enough, not knowing how to handle the situation without being blinded by rage, or reminded of her fear. But the matter needed to be dealt with, and she needed Cullen to do it.

Holding Cullen’s gaze, she set her jaw and said, “I would like you to deal with Ayden McGregor before my return.”

He raised an eyebrow before nodding his head, gladly accepting her orders. “It would be my pleasure.”

They kissed one last time before she left him to stand in his office. Delani rushed to the stables. The sooner she left the sooner she could return. She didn’t want to be away from Cullen any longer than she had to be.

Chapter Text

Elgar’nan’s balls, it was cold. Delani shuddered from her place atop Cornelius and tried to think warm thoughts. A crackling fire, Cullen’s smile, Iron Bull’s hot chocolate, Cullen’s embrace, the warmth of her bed, Cullen’s arms wrapped around her as they laid in said bed. It was needless to say, but Delani missed Cullen more than she missed the blistering heat of the Western Approach.

Weeks had come and gone and their business in the Exalted Plains was finally wrapped up. Thanks to Cullen’s men, a bridge had been built and Delani and her team had been able to relieve the pressure on Empress Celine’s forces. They’d helped the Dalish clan there and managed to recruit one of the hunters to the Inquisition’s forces. The Keeper had been loath to let the young man go, but Delani assured him that the boy would be fine in Cullen’s capable hands.

All in all it had been a productive journey, and Delani was excited to finally see it end. Skyhold awaited her, and she was eager to be reunited with Cullen once more. They had exchanged many letters during their time apart, and he had seemed fine over the neatly scribed text, but she wanted to see for herself that the man she loved was not suffering the way he had been when she had left him. She needed him whole and she needed him hers, and she didn’t want to wait a moment longer than necessary to see for herself that he was both.

Sera’s laugh trilled behind her as she and Blackwall joked. Delani turned to look over her shoulder, watching her companions for a second as they rode back to Skyhold. It was a miracle that Delani and Sera had not killed one another during their travels. If Delani was being perfectly honest, traveling with Sera hadn’t been nearly as bad as she had expected it to be. They had done their best to avoid topics of debate, and had tried to keep a playful air about the journey.

The other woman had spent more time cracking jokes and playing pranks than actively seeking out Delani’s ire. And, even more surprisingly, when the time came to help the Dalish clan Sera had remained tightlipped throughout the whole endeavor. Sure, she had grumbled her distaste to herself, but Sera hadn’t made a confrontation out of it. Delani would take her victories where she could, and traveling for weeks with Sera without either one of them murdering the other in their sleep certainly counted as a victory.

Her gaze drifted from Sera and Blackwall to Solas, who was already staring at Delani when she met his gaze. A smile curled the corner of his mouth, and Delani returned it, inviting the mage to ride beside her so that they could better communicate. When his horse trotted up beside hers they exchanged friendly smiles before Solas launched them into a discussion she hadn’t been expecting to have with him.

“Your relationship with the commander has become rather serious, has it not?” His eyes flicked to the knife on her belt and his smile grew.

Apparently it was from Solas that Cullen had procured the wooden box, emblazoned with Mythal’s symbol, where he had stored her knife. Delani was surprised that Solas had agreed to part with the artifact. And, despite how often and heartily she offered to return it to him, he refused to regain possession of the antiquity.

Consider it my gift to you. You sacrifice so much and ask for so little in return. It is the very least I can do, he had said, denying her one final time before the matter was dropped.

The smile that surfaced on her lips was unbidden and telling. She could not hide her feelings for Cullen even if she wanted to, which she didn’t. “Yes,” she confirmed without a second’s hesitation or an inkling of doubt. “Quite serious indeed.”

The glint that showed in his eyes was approving, and Delani tried not to dwell on how important it was to her. Solas was one of her closest friends. His opinion meant so much to her, and to have his approval only served to further validate her feelings for Cullen. “Have you put much thought into what the both of you will do after all is said and done?”

“Considering whether or not we’ll survive?” she asked, an eyebrow arched with a measure of doubt, to which Solas scoffed and shook his head.

“You have made a habit out of surviving the impossible, lethallan,” he reminded her with a grin. “I see no reason for facing Corypheus to be any different.”

Delani hummed in reply, wanting to give him a detailed list as to why it was different; starting with his servant dragon and ending with millennia old Tevinter magic. But she decided against giving voice to those thoughts. She would face Corypheus, and she would see him destroyed for once and for all. Surviving the encounter would be a pleasant surprise but, honestly, Delani was going to enjoy every moment she had until fate decided what it wanted from her.

Finally she answered Solas’s question, “I haven’t put any thought into it, really.” Giving Solas a sidelong glance, she caught the surprise in his features before explaining herself. “My focus has been on defeating Corypheus. I have not really taken the time to think of what might happen after that.”

“Perhaps you should,” Solas advised, an encouraging smile on his lips. “You deserve to be happy, lethallan. And it is obvious for all to see that Cullen makes you happy. You cannot let Corypheus impede you from planning for the future, especially not now that you have someone to share that future with.”

They rode for a minute in silence as Delani chewed over his words. Solas was not wrong. Just because she was not likely to survive a final confrontation with Corypheus didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to try, nor that she wouldn’t succeed. And then what happened if she did succeed? At least one threat against Thedas would be dealt with, but that didn’t mean that there would be no others. There would still be need for the Inquisition, and for an Inquisitor. The need wouldn’t be so dire, but it would still be there. Would she step down and rejoin her clan? Delani didn’t know. It was a lot to think about.

When she finally returned her attention to Solas it was with a speculative look. “Why bring this up now?”

“Because I know you,” he answered with a laugh. When she quirked an eyebrow in challenge he unflinchingly held his ground. “You live in the present with the mindset of getting things done. But you have a future, and to not think about it is not only a disservice to you, but to Cullen as well.”

Delani set her jaw and turned her attention forward. Twisting her lips as she considered his words, she murmured, “I suppose you’re right.”

“I usually am,” he joked, a smile on his face that was reserved for only his most trusted friends. “Your happiness is important to me, lethallan. I just want it to be important to you as well.”

She returned his smile with little effort. “Thank you, Solas, but you needn’t worry about me. I’m the Herald of Andraste, remember?” It had become somewhat of a joke between them. He knew that she didn’t consider herself to be the herald of anything, but she never failed to adopt the outrageous title whenever it was in her best interest.

The laugh that came from him rang with amusement. “Even the Herald of Andraste needs to be reminded that she has people who care about her every once in a while, Your Worship.” He added that last bit for good measure, making sure that he got the last word in before the joke met its end.

Delani rolled her eyes, even if his words did warm her heart. Ever since her abduction by the Faceless Few her companions had been significantly more liberal with their affections. They did not miss any opportunity to make her feel appreciated or cared for but, heartwarming as it was, it was starting to get a touch overbearing.

The rest of their journey was made in comfortable silence, with Sera and Blackwall’s conversation as the soundtrack for the remainder of the trek. Soon they had crossed the bridge to Skyhold and entered the fortress’ main gates.

She and the Grey Warden helped Dennet tend to the mounts as Solas and Sera departed with mumbled excuses. Delani brushed Cornelius down, made sure that he had enough to eat, and that he would be warm come nightfall. Winter was upon Skyhold, and the grey skies overhead threatened them with snow. It would be a chilly night, and Delani reminded herself to mention properly provisioning coats and blankets when she next spoke to her advisors.

Delani hummed as she made her way up the steps to the upper courtyard. Once there she stood in the center, moving her gaze from the Keep to the ramparts and back again. She so desperately wanted to see Cullen again, but she also wanted to bathe and wash off the stink of her travels. Gnawing on her bottom lip, her gaze kept sweeping to and fro, back and forth, until she finally decided that she would bathe before seeing the commander. He would likely thank her for her consideration anyway. Who wanted to kiss a stinky elf, surely not him.

Mind made, she turned toward the Keep and entered the main hall in pursuit of her chambers. She mostly ignored the chatty nobles that lingered about, gossiping about this or that. Avoiding meeting anyone’s gaze, and being involuntarily sucked into a conversation that she wanted no part of, Delani’s strides were hurried as she made her way to the door that would lead her to her chambers.

The din of the main hall quieted when Delani shut the door behind her and, now with no one to stare at her and accuse her of uncivilized behavior, she bolted up the stairs to her quarters. A bath was calling for her, and time was precious. Rushing past the final door separating her from her room, she climbed the stairs and entered her quarters with a content sigh. Finally she was alone—

The first thing she noticed about her room was the presence of a certain commander leaning casually against her bedpost, waiting for her arrival. It seemed she wasn’t alone after all. There was a teasing curl playing at the corner of his mouth when she emerged from behind the banister. Cullen had taken the liberty of undressing from his cloak and mantle, and all of his armor, until he was down to just his undershirt and trousers. Delani’s breath hitched at the sight of him. Creators, she had missed him.

“Cullen,” was her surprised greeting. She had returned to Skyhold in the middle of the day. He was supposed to be ordering around soldiers and whatnot, not shirking his duties to surprise Delani in the privacy of her bedroom. Not that she was complaining.

Arms crossed in front of his chest in playful indignation, his voice was sweet like rum when he observed, “How did I know that you would chose your bath over coming to see me?” His smile finally unearthed when Delani coyly shrugged in answer. Shaking his head, Cullen pushed himself off of the bed post and took slow, sensual strides in Delani’s direction.

Amber eyes alight with mirth, he commented, “I’m not sure whether or not I should be insulted that I come second to a tub full of hot water.”

Once she was within reach Cullen grabbed Delani by the hips and pulled her to his chest. Excitement and desire warmed in her chest and radiated through her extremities with each beat of her heart. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she allowed a teasing smile to coil her lips as she regarded the man she loved.

“You should be grateful, honestly,” she offered in response to Cullen’s indecisiveness. A blond eyebrow quirked in question and her smile grew. Toying with the downy hair at the nape of his neck, Delani clarified her meaning. “I stink of Orlais and weeks of travel. You should be thanking me for wanting to spare you that unholy stench.”

His smile expanded over his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes with crows feet. She melted at the sight of it. There was little that Delani loved more than when Cullen smiled at her like that. And then Cullen dipped his head down until his face was in her neck, and she could think of at least one thing she loved more. Hugging her to him, he breathed her in and the feel of him against her was electric, sending tingles down her spine and waking her body to his touch.

“Ma atishan,” he murmured against her neck. Cullen’s voice was a husky whisper as he spoke into her ear. “You smell like you are finally home,” he said before stealing her earlobe into his mouth and nibbling on it. When Delani shuddered in delight, Cullen finished, “And I love the way you smell.”

Cullen moved his mouth from her neck to her lips and reclaimed her with his tongue. She melted into his embrace, surrendering herself to him without a fight. Delani had gone too long already without his scent in her lungs, his taste in her mouth, his touch on her skin. They had lost time to make up for.

As his hands wandered from her waist to her ass, Delani also explored his surface. She slid her fingers down his chest, admiring how his heat burned her fingertips through the fabric of his shirt, how his muscles dipped and rippled all the way until she had him by the hem of his shirt. Slipping her hands under the fabric, Delani spread her fingers over the warmth of his skin and smiled proudly when Cullen hissed away from her touch.

“You’re cold,” was his half hearted protest as she felt up the steel of his stomach all the way to his chest. With a little help from Cullen, the shirt was discarded onto the bedroom floor.

Reclaiming his lips, she murmured against his mouth, “Then warm me up, Commander.”

She could feel him smiling against her mouth when he said, “Ma nuvinen, ma atishan,” and started to undress her as well.

With a few tugs the buckles that kept her pauldrons in place on her shoulders came undone, followed by her bracers and breastplate. Suddenly Delani was grateful that she’d had a taste for daggers instead of swords as a young girl. This would have been a much longer process should she have been wearing a warrior’s armor. Once Cullen had her down to her tunic, he undid each knot, one by one, with maddening control until she shrugged the fabric from her shoulders.

Delani watched, transfixed, as Cullen licked his lips at the sight of her, and she bit her bottom lip in reply. For a moment all they did was stare at one another, relearning with their eyes what they had gone weeks without. Then, after the shortest second, seeing was no longer enough. They were on each other in an instant. Hands searched, tongues danced, and their growls and groans filled her chambers as they made their way towards the bed.

When the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress, Delani fell back onto her bed with a giggle. Cullen silenced her amusement soon there after with a kiss. He devoured her, his mouth consuming her, claiming her, branding her as his. As his tongue dueled hers for dominance, his hands trailed down her arms until their fingers were intertwined and he moved her hands over her head.

Excitement made her skin sensitive to his touch. The feeling of his surface merely gracing over hers pulled moan after moan out of her. When Cullen pinned her wrists together with one hand, moved his mouth from her lips to her neck, and trailed his featherlight touch down her chest, past her belly, all the way to the waist of her tights, she was already writhing in anticipation of his exploring fingers.

He bit into her neck, his teeth gently sinking into her skin before he kissed and licked the aggrieved area. Voice thick with desire, he whispered into her ear, “Maker, how I have missed you.” Cullen’s hand slid under the hem of her tights and dipped into the folds of her weeping sex, causing Delani to buck at the contact. She moaned at his touch and he groaned at her obvious, undeniable desire for him.

Taking her earlobe into his mouth, he nipped and he sucked on the soft flesh as his gentle ministrations pulled a series of mews from Delani. “It seems you’ve missed me as well, my lady.”

Her nails were digging into her palms as she struggled to be free from his hold. She wanted to touch him, she needed to feel him under her fingertips, but Cullen’s grip on her wrists was vise like. There would be no escape. For now, he would be the only one doing the touching.

“Cullen,” Delani moaned, begging him to continue, to show her exactly how much he had missed her during her absence.

His finger dipped into her core in answer to her pleas, and Delani bucked at the feeling of the digit rubbing so deliciously against her inner wall. With his mouth on her ear, Cullen licked and sucked on the sensitive shell as his fingers worked her sex. He slid a second finger into her heat before pulling both out and rubbing the bundle of nerves hooded at her seam.

Cullen’s grip on her wrists tightened as she squirmed and wriggled under his touch. It was too much, the sensations were too great. If Cullen so desired, he could bring her to orgasm by tasting her ears alone. The addition of his expert fingers, deftly pulling each moan and cry of pleasure from her throat, was entirely too much for her to handle.

Ragged breaths tore out of her as Delani felt herself reach nearer and nearer to the edge. Her body was alive under Cullen’s touch, restless as she sought the release she so desperately needed, and that only he could give her. Then Cullen found the spongy flesh lining her inner walls. With his lips around the tip of her ear, sucking and licking its pointed edge, he beckoned her release with a come hither motion and Delani was helpless to deny him.

Her vision flashed white as pleasure shot through her body. She convulsed as wave after blissful wave crashed over her. Body singing in delight of the most wonderful climax, Delani sagged into the mattress and let loose a sigh heavy with relief.

Releasing his hold on her wrists, Cullen gently rubbed and kissed each one before inching off of the bed and discarding his trousers. As Delani still came down from the high of completion, like a down feather caught in a summer breeze, he carefully relieved her of her breast band and tights. Her clothes joined his on the floor of her bedroom.

The mattress shifted under his weight as Cullen climbed back onto the bed. When his lips found hers once more, Delani wrapped her arms around his neck and spread her legs in welcome of him. When he pulled away to stare at down at her, adoration shining brilliantly in his amber eyes, she smiled contentedly up at him.

“Ma ar’lath,” she whispered as he positioned himself at her entrance.

Holding her gaze, Cullen replied, “I love you too,” before easing himself into her heat.

Creators, it was good to be home.

The smell of wild flowers was thick in his nose as he worked the scented oil into her long auburn hair. Water rippled between them as they moved, the warm liquid splashing over the edge of the tub as Delani leaned forward to give him better access to her hair. Humming while he worked, Cullen massaged her scalp until the crimson strands were covered in suds, which he then rinsed out until her hair ran down her back like a cascade of blood.

Now that her hair was clean, he moved it over her shoulder and started to rub her back. Delani groaned in reply to the contact, slouching forward to give him better access to all of her back. He started at her neck and worked his way down her shoulders. His thumbs sought out each knotted muscle and rubbed them loose one at a time. When her crimson colored, vallaslin marked, back was free of any residual tension, Cullen pulled Delani back into his arms until her back was nestled against his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Words were inadequate to describe the intensity with which he had missed her during her absence. Days had dragged by into weeks, each minute lasting an eternity. Constantly Cullen would find himself staring out the window, watching the horizon and hoping to see Delani riding toward Skyhold, back to his arms where she always belonged.

Cullen had been dissatisfied with the way they had left things. She had seen him at his lowest point and she had supported him unflinchingly. When all he had felt was hatred and disappointment with himself, Delani had shown him that she loved and believed in him. She’d shown him her love with both her words and with her gift.

A smile pulled the corner of his mouth as he thought of the lion that decorated the surface of his desk. The gift needed no explanation for him to understand its meaning. Delani thought him to be fierce and protective, a dutiful defender, and it was a goal for him to live up to everyday. Sometimes words were not enough to convey their feelings for one another. Where Cullen preferred the use of gestures to demonstrate his love for her, Delani tended to rely heavily on giving him thoughtful gifts, typically made by hand, to show that his feelings were matched flame for flame.

With his arms wrapped around her waist, Cullen pressed a series of kisses to Delani’s shoulder and smiled contentedly to himself when she let out and appreciative sigh in response. He had been so anxious for her return that not a day had gone by that he hadn’t thought about how he would properly welcome her home. Delani had been diligent about sending him messages, informing and updating him on her progress, and letting him know when to expect her return.

Now that she was home and the first part of her welcome was out of the way, he knew that he had to press on to the next, more uncomfortable part. He’d had weeks to prepare and, even though he knew what he needed to say, Cullen stilled hadn’t found the words to verbalize his sentiments. Nibbling on the soft skin of her shoulder, he decided that perhaps it was best to just spit it out.

“I wanted to thank you,” he started, drawing small circles on her abdomen with his thumbs. “When you came to see me that day…” Cullen paused and tried to search for the proper words.

Shame cast a long shadow over him. He regretted that she had seen him in such a state, but he was also grateful for it as well. Sometimes the pain was difficult to bear. She had witnessed its aftermath and she had not run. Delani had stood firm beside him and listened to everything he’d had to say. Her sea green eyes had regarded him without judgment and without pity. All she offered him was her support and understanding, and she could never truly grasp how grateful he was to her for it.

Nuzzling her neck he tried again, “If there’s anything—“ he cut himself off. It sounded insufficient, to repay her love with offered favors. Cullen felt blood rush through his features as he scolded himself for his inarticulateness. He had never been good with words, actions had always been easier.

Perhaps he was overthinking it. Delani was not one to ask anything of him. Perhaps a simple thanks would be sufficient . “You were there for me when I felt most alone,” Cullen said, his arms tightening around her as to physically demonstrate the gratitude he was attempting to give voice to. “You did not judge me, nor did you think less of me. Instead you supported me when I needed you most, and I will never be able to thank you enough for it.”

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder and offered him a reassuring smile. “You don’t need to thank me for being there for you, Cullen. How many times have you been there for me already?” Her smile grew and his heart melted at the sight of it. “It was about time that you allowed me to return the favor.”

Chest warm with feelings of adoration, Cullen stole a kiss from her simpering lips and squeezed her more tightly against him. So this was what it felt like to have someone love him wholeheartedly, to have someone support him through the thick of things and care about his wellbeing. It was a foreign feeling, and surely more than he deserved, but Cullen was pleased all the same that Delani had found a place in her heart for him.

When he released her lips from the kiss, she squeezed his arms around her middle and burrowed herself more deeply into his embrace. Resting her head on his shoulder, they sat in the tub of hot water for a moment before Delani broke the companionable silence with a question.

“You are feeling better though, aren’t you?”

Not wanting her to worry, he assured her, “Yes, of course, “ before honestly imparting the truth with her, “The pain comes and goes. Sometimes I feel as though I’m back there. I should not have pushed myself so far that day.”

He recalled the day that she had left for Orlais. Cullen had been terrified of losing her. He had felt so useless, so helpless to protect her from twisted men like McGregor. Delani walked into danger without second thought, but nearly losing her to the Faceless Few made her mortality real. And there was nothing that he could do to protect her as the Commander of the Inquisition, and failed Templar. If he abandoned his role there was at least a chance that he could accompany her on her travels and see to her safety himself. But he had worked hard for his place as commander, and he could not stand yet another failure under his belt.

The day Delani left he had felt trapped and overwhelmed, and then she had come to him. With her freely given support and a gift sculpted from wood, she had shown him that she believed in him. Delani did not think that he was a failure, and she knew that he could fight his withdrawals and maintain his post. Her belief in him had reignited his belief in himself, and suddenly the struggle did not feel as daunting as it had been before. She had done that, and he loved her all the more for it.

Sighing he admitted, “I’ve never told anyone what truly happened to me at Ferelden’s Circle. I was… not myself after that.” Delani’s arms hugged his, and she offered him her support as he further explained what had become of the young boy with big dreams and such high hopes. “I was angry, and for years that anger blinded me. I’m not proud of the man that made me.”

He leaned back, pulled Delani with him until they were both laying comfortably in the warm bath water. “Now I can put some distance between myself and everything that happened.” A smile curled his lips and he finished, “It’s a start.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” she said before pushing herself out from his arms and climbing halfway out of the tub. She leaned over the edge of the tub, reaching for her pack with her sopping wet rear wriggling before him.

Unable to help himself, Cullen lightly spanked her backside and chuckled to himself when she made a surprised noise in protest. The water splashed as Delani searched her pack, and he sat back grinning, enjoying the view. When, finally, she’d found what she was looking for, she settled back into place in front of him and held a leather pouch over her shoulder in offering.

Cullen kissed the top of her head when she rested her back against his chest again. Curiously loosening the rope securing the pouch shut, he wondered, “What’s this,” and felt into the package when it was finally open.

His brows furrowed when he pulled free a thinly sliced piece of bark, and his confusion redoubled. Quirking an eyebrow, Cullen wondered, “You got me wood chips,” and marveled at the oddity of her gift.

“No, silly,” she retorted with a laugh before correcting herself, “Well, yes, but they’re more than that.” Knowing that she would need to further explain, Delani sighed and tried to make him understand. “That is willow bark. It’s an old Dalish remedy that helps with headaches. When you feel a headache coming on you pop one of those bad boys into your mouth and chew on it.

“It works like a charm,” she assured him and he could hear the smile in her voice.

Not for the first time, Cullen was dumbstruck by the thoughtfulness of her gift. With a few hunks of wood Delani had demonstrated that he was on her mind as often as she was on his. She had shown him that his well being and his health were important to her, and that she cared that he was alright. Never before had anyone outside of his family cared so deeply about him without asking for anything in return. Delani was selfless, and he was lucky to have her in his life.

Eager to get the topic of conversation off of himself, Cullen returned her concern for him with his own queries. “What of you, ma atishan?” He placed the willow bark back into its pouch and tossed it in the direction of her pack, wanting to wrap her up in his arms once more. With her hugged snugly to his chest, he kissed the column of her neck, and whispered, “You have your own troubles, how are you holding up?”

Delani’s entire body decompressed with the weight of the sigh that expelled from her. “Honestly,” she started, “I’m scared,” and Cullen’s grip tightened around her smaller frame.

“The future of the entire world depends on my success, and I’m afraid that I will not be enough to defeat Corypheus.”

Pressing another kiss onto her shoulder, Cullen fervently reminded her, “You are not alone in this, Delani. You have your companions, you have your advisors, and you have the whole of the Inquisition at your back. We will defeat Corypheus.” He did not have a shred of doubt that they would be able to bring down the thousand year old Tevinter Magister once and for all. Cullen had complete faith in Delani and in her abilities. He understood her need for a healthy touch of doubt, but it was a doubt that he did not share. They would defeat the beast that threatened all of Thedas, and they would live to tell the tale. Anything short of that was unacceptable.

She sighed through her nose and Cullen felt it the moment she accepted his words as truth and allowed them to steel her resolve. Delani believed in him, and he believed in her, and together they would face whatever might come. Gripping the edges of the tub, Delani moved from Cullen’s grasp and stood in the cooling water.

Quickly she grabbed the towels from the nearby table and wrapped one around herself before stepping out of the tub and handing the other to Cullen. He followed her lead and stood from the water, wrapping the towel over his shoulders, he attended to his hair before drying off the rest of himself. Cullen trailed after her back into her room, and admired the lithe shape of her body as she began to dress herself.

He could tell by the tension in her shoulders that she was not yet finished with the conversation they had started in the tub. As she pulled on her tights, secured her breast band into place, and started to tie the front of her tunic, Delani’s lips twisted with concentration. Cullen pulled on his trousers before moving to sit on the edge of the mattress and watched as she combed out the knots from her hair.

“What’s on your mind, Delani,” he inquired when she didn’t volunteer the cause behind the tightness in her furrowed brow.

She bit into her lip, suddenly looking embarrassed by what she was about to admit. “I know that we can defeat Corypheus, that we will defeat him,” she corrected herself before carrying on to her point. “But, after everything that happened with McGregor and his men…”

Delani gnawed on her bottom lip and peered out the open balcony doors. She stared at the horizon, the last rays of sunlight seeping into the room and painting it with soothing tones of green and yellow. When she returned her gaze to Cullen, a small abashed smile was on her lips and she finally admitted, “I miss my mother.”

Before Cullen could react, she jumped to explain herself. “Nearly dying has taught me to not take anything for granted, not you, not my companions, and not my family. My mother is the only parent that I have left, and it has been too long already since I’ve last seen her. If I had died without hugging her one last time…”

He sat silently on the bed. Cullen knew how important Delani’s clan was to her, how important her family was to her. He knew that not a day went by that she did not miss them. To hear her give voice to those thoughts now made it clear exactly how much she longed for her family. Delani sacrificed for everyone and asked for nothing in return. Even now, with this admission, she was not asking to see her mother again. She was simply confiding in him the fact that she missed her mother, and Cullen knew what he had to do.

Shoulders jumping with a forced shrug, she tucked her freshly combed hair behind and ear and murmured, “It’s childish, I know.”

“It’s not childish to miss your mother, Delani,” he corrected her, and shook his head that she could even suggest otherwise. “She is the only parent that you have left. It makes sense for you to want to see her again.”

She nodded slowly in reply. Sighing, she resigned herself to reality and admitted, “There’s too much to be done for us to take another trip to visit my clan.” When Delani met Cullen’s gaze she offered him a weak smile before stating, “After we’ve dealt with Corypheus we’ll visit them again, won’t we?”

A smile eased onto his lips and Cullen eagerly nodded his agreement. “Of course we will.”

She returned his smile with a hopeful one of her own. It was something more for her to look forward to, another reason to defeat Corypheus and live to tell the tale.

Cullen pushed himself off of the bed and collected his shirt from the floor. Pulling it over his head, he started to collect the pieces of his armor and, to the confused expression that turned her features, he explained, “I have to meet with Captain Ophelia and get a verbal report on how the afternoon went without my supervision.”

A laugh sounded from Delani and she nodded that she understood. “Need to make sure that the Inquisition’s forces didn’t collapse upon themselves without your direct supervision, vhenan’ara?”

The sound of her laughter caused his smile to grow, and he shrugged in reply to her teasing tone. “It very well could have, and then where would we be?”

“Doomed, surely,” she answered with another laugh.

When he was fully dressed and ready to go, Cullen erased the distance between him and Delani and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before starting for the stairs. “I will see you at dinner,” he promised before stopping in his tracks at the sound of her responding question.

“Will you stay here with me tonight?”

He glanced over his shoulder, a pleased smile on his lips and nodded in answer, “Of course I will.”

Though seemingly happy with his answer, she pensively chewed on her bottom lip before prompting him again. “And tomorrow night?”

“If that is what you wish,” Cullen slowly supplied. He would happily stay by her side and in her bed for however long she desired him. This line of questioning was curious, and Cullen wondered at its origins.

“And every night after that?”

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a measured look. There was an uncertainty about the way she was standing, a nervousness about how he would answer. Curious, Cullen answered her question with a question, “What is it exactly that you are asking me, ma atishan?”

Scuffing her foot over the stone floors of her chambers, Delani stared down at her feet for a moment before looking up to meet his gaze. With a deep breath she found her voice and straightened her shoulders when she admitted, “I want you to sleep here, with me, in my bed, indefinitely.”

Surprised, Cullen’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline and he blinked hard. “You want me to move in?”

Nervously playing with his coin turned necklace, she hurriedly amended, “You can say no if you don’t—“

Cullen erased the distance between them again and claimed her mouth with his own. With his lips he relayed everything he was unable to say. Her request meant the world to him. Admittedly, while Delani was away, he spent most nights in her bed as it was. Her scent clung to the room, and he had wanted to at least bask in her ambiance even if he couldn’t enjoy the pleasure of her company. To be invited to call her chambers his as well, she could not possibly understand how much it meant to him.

When he finally released her lips from his mouth he held her face in his hands and pressed his brow to hers. Breathlessly he whispered, “I would love nothing more.” As soon as he was done with Captain Ophelia he would grab a few of his things and bring them to her room. No, he corrected himself, to their room. The thought pulled a grin across his lips.

Maker, he loved this woman.

Chapter Text

Cullen always knew that mornings were not Delani’s most favorite time of day. However he hadn’t anticipated her hating them completely. When he had woken up beside her in the past, he had taken her oversleeping as the end result of their… excursions. It was only when he had started to share her room on a permanent basis that he realized that, no, Delani just liked to sleep in as late as she could get away with.

It had taken some time for him to get accustomed to her late mornings. Where Cullen would mostly wake with the sunrise, Delani would remain dead to the world for hours still if he allowed it. This morning was not to be one of those mornings. There was work to be done, and Cullen had promised Josephine that he would convince Delani to get started on her paperwork.

Hidden beneath a fortress of pillows and bedsheets was an elf curled up into a tight little ball. It had already been over a week since he’d moved into her chambers, and it still amazed him how Delani managed to get smaller and smaller the higher the sun rose over the horizon. The night would start with her fully stretched out on the bed and, by the time the sun was up and the day had started, she was rolled up into a ball of easily irritated malcontent. She’d nipped at him enough times for him to have learned to keep his distance if he wanted all of his fingers.

Straightening the mantle on his shoulders, Cullen grinned at the sight of Delani buried under a mountain of bedding. He shook his head at the outrageousness of her and risked sitting beside her on the edge of the mattress. As he made sure the laces of his boots were tight, Cullen glanced at Delani’s form and smiled.

“Wake up, ma atishan,” he started, speaking loud enough for her to shift in protest under the sheets. Cullen was half tempted to dig around in that pile of down feathered pillows and sheets, and find Delani within. Stealing a kiss from her lips was almost worth the risk of losing his fingers in the process. “We’ve a lot of work to do today.”

Delani’s sleepy voice was hoarse when she croaked, “Five more hours,” muffled behind layers upon layers of sheets.

His replying laugh escaped him unbidden. With a shake of his head that she couldn’t see, he rebuked, “Five more hours and the day will have started without you.”

“It can end without me too,” she growled, scrunching herself into an even tighter ball. Voice filled with displeasure, Delani whined, “I never want to leave this bed.”

Staring at the bundle of bed sheets, Cullen considered his options. He could leave and let Delani sleep in just a bit longer, or he could try a bit harder to get her out of bed. The first option would result in a strongly worded letter from Josephine about the importance of upheld promises. The second could result in one of his limbs being broken. Grinning, Cullen decided to risk it.

He crawled over to Delani and started to search for her under the mountain of fabric. When his hand made contact with the skin of her waist she groused, “Unhand me, you fiend, or be prepared to lose your limb.”

Cullen smiled in reply. “Come now, my love,” he purred as he dug her out from under the sheets, grinning as she tried to roll away from his grasp. “A new day awaits us.”

When he pulled down the sheet covering her face Delani rolled over and buried her head in the pillows. “It can wait a little while longer.”

“Maybe,” he conceded before grinning widely. Cullen added, “But why leave it waiting when we can face it together,” and he tickled her ribs.

Delani’s voice filled their room with a shrill scream as she tried to flee from his grasp. “Cullen!” she shouted, her feet kicking while she struggled for freedom, but Cullen would not relent, not until she was out of bed. “Stop! Cullen!”

At the sound of her delighted laughter his own amusement burst out of him. Cullen weighed her down with his body, stopping her swinging arms and kicking legs from catching him in the face or causing him injury, and continued to tickle her until she was laughing so hard she couldn’t even articulate language.

Unable to help the laugh that came out of him, Cullen offered Delani a way out from her tortured captivity. “Say you’ll get up,” he prompted.

“No!” she refused.

The prodding of his fingers intensified and her laughter grew louder. “Say it!”

“Never!”

Cullen quirked an eyebrow before muttering, “So be it,” and tickling Delani without restraint. Her screaming laughter filled the bedroom as she thrashed, attempting to free herself without success. Even as she hollered that she couldn’t breathe, he called her bluff and continued his assault until she finally gave in. He knew Delani. She would call all the stops before accepting defeat, even if it meant faking suffocation.

It was only when she screamed, “Fine!” that his fingers stilled on her ribcage.

“Fine what?” he pressed, needing her to give voice to her surrender before he could properly claim victory.

Delani rolled her eyes. “You really want me to say it?” When he replied by tickling her again, she struggled a bit before submitting to his terms. “Okay, okay, you win!”

Glaring at Cullen, she muttered, “I’ll get up.”

“What was that?” he asked, tilting his ear toward her mouth. “A little louder, I didn’t catch that.”

With a heavy and dramatic sigh, she appeased him. “I, Delani Lavellan, Herald of Andraste, last hope for Thedas, sealer of rifts, and famously beautiful and deadly Inquisitor, hereby surrender to the terms of the mighty,” she smiled up at him, “handsome,” she wrapped her arms around his neck, “and inconceivably nettlesome Cullen Stanton Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition, and General of her armies.”

He was grinning down at her, his breath stolen by the amazing creature that she was. Pursing his lips, Cullen challenged, “Nettlesome, huh?”

With a shrug she rebuked, “Also mighty and handsome.”

Laughing, he shook his head before placing a kiss on the tip of her nose and freeing her from his weight. He stood at her bedside and, after straightening himself out, he offered her his hand. With a smile he said, “I accept your surrender.”

When she placed her hand in his and allowed herself to be pulled out of bed, he added, “I might have preferred something with a little less sass, but a surrender is a surrender.”

Delani stuck her tongue out at him and he chuckled in response. Pressing a kiss to her lips, Cullen pulled her to his chest and into the warmth of his embrace. Maker, he loved this woman. He could hardly remember who he was before her. Always he had felt as though there was something missing from his life. And here she was, the final piece that made him whole, living proof of the Maker’s plan.

He broke the kiss before the heat of it could disrobe him and pull them both back into bed. Holding Delani by the nape of her neck, he stared into her sea green eyes and smiled. “I love you,” he whispered.

The corner of her mouth lifted and her face filled with warmth. “I love you too,” she sighed before placing her hands on his plate covered chest and shoving him away. “Now go,” she barked, a teasing shine in her beautiful eyes. “You’ve gotten me out of bed, now go tend to your other responsibilities.”

Though he was loath to leave the warmth of her company, Cullen knew that she was right. He stole another lingering kiss from her lips before turning toward the stairs. “I’ll see you in the war room this afternoon, Lady Inquisitor.”

As he descended the steps that would take him from their room, his smile grew at the sound of her reply with a discontented growl. “Fucking paperwork,” and left their chambers. His grin persisted until his hand was met with the cold iron Handle of the last door dividing him from the main hall. He straightened out his features and reclaimed his ‘commander face’. The expression had placed him on the butt end of many of Sera’s jokes, but the facts remained unchanging. The front kept his men in line and the nobles at a distance, and that was how he preferred things to be.

Once in the main hall, he took his first right into Josephine’s office. The ambassador was standing in front of the hearth, reading over reports from the nobility in Orlais, or whatever it was they sent her that kept her so busy. She looked over her shoulder at the sound of Cullen entering her office and a smile quirked the corners of her mouth in welcome. Turning to face him, a knowing and approving shine lit up her hazel eyes.

“Commander,” she said in greeting, her smile widening as he approached her.

Nodding in acknowledgement of her greeting, Cullen returned, “Ambassador,” before cutting straight to the purpose of his visitation. “Have the preparations been made for the coming emissary?”

Josephine nodded happily. “Of course, Commander,” she assured him, the approving warmth in her eyes shining brighter as she regarded him. “When our guests arrive they will have our finest quarters awaiting them. And I’ve spoken to the cook about serving culturally specific dishes for dinner on the night of their arrival.”

Excitement coursed through him, sparkling through his bloodstream like tiny bursts of static electricity. Returning Josie’s grin with a small simper of his own, Cullen bowed his head gratuitously and said, “Thank you, Josephine. I knew my confidence in you was not misplaced.”

A fluttering giggle rippled from her, and she pressed a delicate hand to her lips to stifle her amusement. Waving Cullen off, she said, “To suggest otherwise is insulting, Commander. Now off with you. Some of us have work to do.”

Cullen smiled as he left her office. Before he was through the door he looked over his shoulder and replied, “As do I, Ambassador. To suggest otherwise is insulting.”

Wiping the smile off of his face as he stepped back out into the main hall, Cullen had just one more stop to make before he went to speak with Captain Ophelia. He made his way down the main hall toward the atrium, but was pulled to a stop at Varric’s writing desk by the knowing look in the dwarf’s eyes. Cullen’s heart tightened. The knowledge of what he had planned should have been restricted to Josephine, Leliana, and himself. If Varric knew anything, he knew too much, and Cullen needed to know what the dwarf was smirking about.

“Ser Tethras,” Cullen said in greeting to the simpering man.

The corner of Varric’s mouth tugged up into a lopsided grin, and he returned, “Curly,” before observing, “You’re up to something.”

Cullen narrowed his eyes in reply. The dwarf’s statement made it clear that Varric didn’t know what exactly it was that Cullen was up to, but it also implied that Cullen was not being nearly as tactful as he thought he was being. That or Varric was much too observant for his own good, perhaps it was both.

Cocking an eyebrow, he stared at the stout man and palmed the pommel of the sword at his hip. “What makes you say that,” he asked, wanting to know what his tell was so that he could force himself to stop doing it immediately.

“Oh, come on, Curly,” Varric replied in amused exasperation. Chuckling at the sight of Cullen, he stated, “You get this look in your eyes when you’re about to do something for Scarlett. Don’t forget who helped you with that romantic picnic in the garden, after all.”

Cullen hadn’t forgotten, although Varric had unwittingly volunteered himself to the task at the time. But he didn’t think it worth mentioning. “I don’t know what you are talking about, dwarf.”

Eyes glittering with mirth, Varric hummed, “Mhm. Of course you don’t,” before shaking his head and chuckling. “So what do you have planned? Are you going to propose to our illustrious leader?”

Cullen blanched. “W-what?” Blinking hard, he brought a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat before trying to speak again. “No, that’s ridiculous.”

Varric’s face was flat as he stared up at Cullen, even if his internal roaring laughter was clear to see in the brown of his eyes. Tsking with a disappointed shake of his head, the stout man replied, “How badly you’re blushing is ridiculous, Curly. Wanting to spend the rest of your life with the woman that you love,” he shrugged, “significantly less ridiculous.”

“I’m not proposing,” Cullen assured the other man with narrowed eyes.

Another shrug bounced the smaller man’s shoulders. “You’re still up to something, something big by the looks of it.” Offering Cullen a friendly simper, Varric said, “Let me know if you need help with anything.”

Brows jumping up with surprise, Cullen assured him, “I’ve got everything covered, Ser Tethras. Though I appreciate the offer.”

Varric’s grin grew victorious. “Ha!” A bark of laughter expelled from him. “So you do have something planned! I knew it. What is it?”

Cullen’s face burned at the realization that he had just given himself away. “I’ve business to attend to,” he stated in self-dismissal. Passing Varric and opening the door to the rotunda, Cullen gave the other man a departing, “Good day to you, Varric.”

The dwarf’s voice chased after him as he retreated, “See you around, Curly.”

Shaking off the embarrassment and irritation that Varric had unearth inside of him, Cullen cut through the atrium, toward the stairs. He gave Solas a brief nod in acknowledgment before ascending the steps to the library. Cullen was surprised to not find Dorian in his nook, nose deep in a book, researching this or that. Probably at the tavern, he mused to himself. When the Tevinter mage wasn’t attending to his scholarly interests, he was bound to be entertaining a biting repartee with Iron Bull; ‘foreplay’ as they liked to call it.

He rounded the library and climbed the last stairwell between him and the rookery. When he was greeted by fluttering wings and deep caws, Cullen found the spymaster tending to a crow at the far end of the circular room. Her gaze was on the bird as he approached her.

“Commander,” Leliana said by way of greeting, without pulling her attention from the avian perched on her forearm. Offering the crow a square of meat, she watched the bird as she continued. “I was expecting you.”

There wasn’t a sliver of doubt in his mind that she actually had been expecting him. Especially since Cullen had been hounding her for the better part of the week, after the same exact information that he was in pursuit of at present.  Clearing his throat, he ignored her mildly unnerving welcome and carried on to the point of his visit.

“Have you received any word on the progress of the coming emissary?”

A smile toyed at the edge of her mouth and she gave him a sidelong glance. “I have,” she stated before moving toward an empty cage and opening the door. Leliana’s focus remained solely on the bird as she lifted the crow toward the cage and prompted it to enter. When the black feathered beast hopped off of her forearm and into the cage she shut the door behind it and gave it another hunk of meat as reward.

Clapping her gloved hands together, she finally turned to face Cullen and he could clearly see the amused sparkle in her eyes under the shadow of her hood. Leliana turned to smirk at him, giving him no more information than that.

He set his jaw and waited for her to supply him with a better answer. When half a minute passed without another word passing between them, Cullen prompted, “And?”

Smile growing wickedly across her lips, Leliana shrugged and said, “And, the envoy is expected to arrive any day now.”

Nervous excitement ricocheted through him, heart bouncing off of the walls of his ribcage as he took a second to fully appreciate what that meant. His planning had mostly been entirely last minute but, with Josephine and Leliana’s assistance, everything was progressing vastly more smoothly than he could have ever hoped for. Now all that was left was for the emissary to arrive, and then his surprise gift to Delani would be complete.

Rubbing the stubble lining his jaw, Cullen fought the smile from his lips; with little success if the bright sparkle in Leliana’s eyes was any indication. “That’s good,” he replied, feeling his heart start to beat in his ears. He needed this surprise to go perfectly, anything less was unacceptable.

“So,” Cullen cleared his throat. “Everything is in order then.”

Leliana’s smile became more obvious. Nodding, she replied, “It appears so.” Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she regarded Cullen the way a cat eyed a mouse and Cullen set his shoulders in reply; an attempt to show her that she did not intimidate him, even if she did a little bit.

Eyebrow arching in question, Leliana wondered, “Was there anything else that you needed, Commander?”

He cleared his throat again and shook his head. “No, that is all.” Backing away from the spymaster, he bowed his head and departed with a polite, “Thank you for your time, Leliana.”

“I will see you later, Commander.”

Cullen swiveled around and left the rookery, feeling Leliana’s amused gaze on his back as he descended down to the library once more. Now that he had received updates from both Josephine and Leliana there was nothing left for him to do. With another nod to Solas, Cullen stepped out of the rotunda and made his way across the ramparts toward his office. When he pushed the door open it was to find Captain Ophelia and a handful of lieutenants waiting for him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Cullen said as he approached his desk and found his place behind it. Scanning over the small group of soldiers surrounding him, Cullen placed his hands on the pommel of his sword and nodded for them to get down to business. “Let’s get started. Captain Ophelia, what news do you have from the Western Approach?”

“They’re a small family, Inquisitor,” said Josephine, her hazel eyes alight with a plotting mischief that was a little disconcerting. The normally well mannered and slightly reserved Antivan sometimes adopted the look when it came to the infamous Game, and the playing thereof. “A few well placed rumors in influential ears and they will no longer be so much of an annoyance.”

Twisting her lips, Delani reread the report in her hand. This ‘small family’ was making quite the fuss in regards to the rapid growth of the Inquisition’s influence. Though Josephine had initially proposed leaving them be and allowing the situation to blow over on its own, at the sight of Delani’s hesitation she had allowed her claws to come out a bit. It was mildly terrifying.

Delani considered the consequences of silencing a minor noble family. Not knowing the rules of The Game, nor that of nobility for that matter, she didn’t really see the downside. With a shrug, Delani nodded at her ambassador and said, “Work your magic, Lady Montilyet.”

Her morning had consisted primarily of paperwork. After Cullen had managed to coax her out from under the covers, Delani had sat at her desk and hadn’t left her seat until the mountain of parchment had become a hill. It had been the exact moment that her stomach had decided that it was physically impossible to carry on if she did not eat. So, Delani had left her chambers in search of food, only to get cornered by Josephine and sent back to her quarters to finish the remaining pile of papers. The Antivan woman had been kind enough to send up food, if only to keep Delani’s rear firmly planted in her desk chair.

When finally everything had been read, signed, approved, or dismissed, Delani was allowed to stretch her legs. And that short stroll had led her straight to the war room where more work awaited her. Upon entering the war room she had caught her advisors in the middle of a discussion that immediately ceased with her arrival. Josephine and Leliana had both regarded Delani with amusement in their eyes, wheels turning as they addressed her. Cullen had coughed into his fist and rubbed the red away from his neck. Assuming that they had been poking fun of Delani’s evasion of paperwork, she had shrugged them all off and dove right into the dozens of mission markers covering the map strewn table.

Now, nearly two and a half hours later, Delani was starting to get fidgety. There were still several markers that needed to be addressed, but they would have to wait for another day, because she simply could not stay cooped up in the round room for a moment longer. She was dying of boredom. Staying for even one more second was a death sentence and Delani wanted to live.

“Alright,” Delani said, holding her hands behind her back and assuming a pose of authority. “I think that we’ve done enough for today. I don’t know about all of you, but I could use a break.”

“A break she says,” Leliana stated with a shake of her head. She glanced across the war table to where Josephine was standing. “Good luck trying to get her back into this room.”

Josephine also shook her head and let loose an exhale heavy with disappointment. Gesturing toward Cullen, she remarked, “I’ll leave that to the Commander.”

To which Cullen immediately scoffed. He held Delani’s gaze with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes when he stated, “You’re both lucky I managed to even get her out of bed this morning.”

Both women’s attention snapped toward Cullen and Leliana cocked a teasing eyebrow. Her voice was thick with playful suspicion when she asked, “And how did you manage that, Commander?”

His face turned beet red in a matter of seconds, and his hand started to rub the back of his neck like it always did when he found himself in this position. “I-it’s not like—“ his gaze was on Delani, pleading for her to either rescue him or back him up.

Delani turned her nose at his request and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Pursing her lips in challenge, Delani prodded, “Well? How did you get me out of bed, Cullen? The woman asked you a question.” Both Josephine and Leliana snickered, happy to have the Inquisitor on their side for once.

Cullen’s blush deepened, even though they both knew that there was nothing blush worthy about their morning. But the mere suggestion that they discuss their sex life in front of the other two advisors was enough to set his features aflame. Delani was much too delighted by his reaction, yet she didn’t have it in her to mind her cruelty.

After a moment of trying to gather his bearings, Cullen glared at the three of them and gritted out an annoyed, “Maker’s breath. Are you ladies enjoying yourselves?”

She, Leliana, and Josephine all shared a look before returning their attention to Cullen and nodding in unison. Cullen groaned in response and made his way around the war table toward the door. He’d had enough of their teasing and was making a break for it. Unlucky for him, they were following his lead.

“Oh, come now, Cullen,” Leliana purred. “Do share with us all of the juicy details.”

Opening the door to the war room, Cullen stepped aside and allowed the three women through. He rolled his eyes at Leliana’s relentless teasing. “And give you more fodder to use against me? No thank you.”

She made a dissatisfied noise. “You’re no fun.”

Cullen met Delani’s gaze and gave her an exasperated look. Offering him a small smile, she decided that perhaps it was time to come to her lover’s defense. “I disagree, Sister Nightingale.” She smirked at the spymaster and felt Cullen tense at the sound of her playful tone. “The Commander happens to be a lot of fun if you know what he likes.”

“Oh, do tell,” Leliana replied.

“Do not encourage her, Lady Levallan,” Cullen warned, a slight panic in his voice. “Maker knows what she’ll do with that information.”

Leliana glanced back at him over her shoulder, a wicked sparkle in her eyes as she regarded the commander. “At least take some comfort in knowing that I would never do anything to jeopardize the Inquisition.”

“The Inquisition, no,” Cullen easily agreed, his eyes narrowed on Leliana as he regarded her almost like she was a serpent coiled to strike. “My sanity, however, is another matter entirely.”

Shrugging her shoulders, Leliana looked over at Delani and allowed a mischievous smirk to twist the corners of her mouth. With a teasing laugh in her voice, she agreed, “Well, he’s not wrong.”

Beside them, Josephine giggled at their back and forth and shook her head. “Now, now, children. Play nice.”

The three of them stepped into Josephine’s office where the Antivan woman started for her desk only to stop short when her office door burst open. In came a soldier, appearing breathless after rushing to reach them as quickly as possible. Standing at attention, the man didn’t clarify his purpose until Cullen instructed him to do so.

“You wanted to be informed the moment that the envoy arrived, Commander Cullen, Sir.”

Delani’s brows furrowed with confusion. An envoy? Shouldn’t she have known something about this? She racked her brain, sifting through the memory of all the reports she had read and signed. Nowhere in any of the endless pile of parchment had she come across any mention of a coming envoy. Delani looked up at Cullen, hoping to find answers in his face, and being met with nervous surprise instead. The furrow of her brow deepened. What was going on?

“Already?” Cullen asked to no one in particular, and yet Leliana answered him anyway.

“They’re right on time, by the looks of it.” She offered him an encouraging smile, even if there was still a glint of teasing amusement in her eyes. “I told you that they would be arriving any day now.”

To the soldier, Delani demanded, “Who is this envoy?” To her advisors she asked, “And what are they doing here?”

It was Cullen who answered her questions. “Foreign dignitaries here to discuss race relations,” he said and Leliana and Josephine snickered from somewhere behind Delani. Placing his hand on the small of Delani’s back, Cullen gestured for them to start for the main hall. “Come, we should greet our guests at the gates.”

She was regarding Cullen suspiciously. What was his interest in these dignitaries? Whenever some haughty noble came to visit Skyhold, Cullen was usually the first one to call a retreat to his office. Him not only wanting to greet their guests, but also taking charge of the introduction was not only strange, but completely unlike him.

Tossing a confused look over her shoulder, she searched the other two women for an explanation behind Cullen’s behavior. But all they did in reply to her wordless question was grin and wave her off to go with the Commander. They were walking several feet behind them, but it was clear to see that they had no intention of being part of the first wave of the welcoming party.

Delani looked from her other advisors, back to Cullen, and narrowed her eyes at him. “Cullen, what is this?” She hated surprises, hated walking into a situation without knowing what to expect, and this whole situation felt suspiciously like a surprise.

“This is a part of our responsibilities as leaders of the Inquisition, my Lady Herald,” Cullen answered, a sly turn of his lips playing at the corners of his mouth. Offering Delani an encouraging look, he stated, “Trust me, ma atishan, you will not dislike our visitors.”

She set her jaw and glared at him. Whatever this was, Cullen was behind it, and now he was walking her blindly into a meeting with people she didn’t know, to discuss topics she had no knowledge of. Delani would repay Cullen for this, she just had to think of how best to do it.

Past the doors of the main hall, they stepped out of the keep and into the frosty mountain air. The skies were greyed by clouds heavy with snow, and already white flakes were falling from the heavens. It was winter in the FrostBacks, and the cold was as unrelenting as it was dangerous. Delani had requisitioned better living arrangements for the pilgrims in preparation for the weather, she just hoped that it was enough to keep everyone warm.

They descended the steps to the main courtyard before taking the second stairwell to the lower courtyard so that they might meet their guests at the gates. Delani clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from clattering. First she would welcome her surprise guests, and then she would usher them all inside, where she wouldn’t risk hypothermia from standing in the cold.

A few curious people had gathered to see what the commotion was about, and to see who had come to visit the Inquisition; though not nearly as many as she had expected. The cold had given them a semblance of privacy at least for a moment. Standing in front of the drawn gates, Delani peered into the grey winter climate and made out the shape of the coming envoy. Her heart started at the sight of a familiar green. Delani’s gaze shot to Cullen, her expression wide with confusion. When he simply grinned down at her in reply, she refocused on the approaching figures and shock started to stiffen her her body until she was standing motionless, holding her breath, and trying to convince herself that what she was seeing wasn’t a product of her imagination.

Each member of the inbound group was riding atop white mounts with winding horns. The creatures were tall, their movements lithe and graceful, and there was an intelligence about them that Delani had never seen in another animal. Halla, which meant that these ‘dignitaries’ were Dalish. Their warm clothing were in earthy tones of green and brown, lined with fur. She almost assumed that they were just any Dalish emissary, until she noticed the staff on the back of the elf riding at point. The ironbark staff was shaped by two long pieces, wound together like a lovers embrace, and at the top, where a enchanted bloodstone was nestled, were two halla standing on their hind legs and dancing in combat.

That was her mother’s staff. Delani would recognize it anywhere. Her mouth fell open as she watched the small group enter Skyhold’s gates. There were six of them in total, her mother, and then the five hunters who had been chosen to accompany her. Delani’s eyes were wide as she watched her mother dismount from her halla. She was afraid to blink. Delani was terrified that the moment she shut and reopened her eyes it would be to discover herself back in her bed, and find that this was nothing more than a dream.

But then her mother lowered her fur lined hood to reveal her face, to remind Delani of her ageless beauty, and Delani allowed herself to risk it. She blinked and, when she opened her eyes again, her mother was smiling at her. Delani fought for control of her muscles. She banished the weight of her shock from her limbs and took a step toward the Keeper.

“Mamae?” said Delani before breaking out into a sprint and cutting the distance that had stood between her and her mother.

She nearly tackled the older woman off of her feet. Tears stung her eyes as she clung to her mother for dear life. Delani breathed her in, taking in the scent of her and storing it to memory. She had almost forgotten how much her mother smelled of lavender and pine. She had almost forgotten how easy it was to wrap up the woman in a tight embrace, and feel as though she might break her. Delani had almost forgotten how good it felt to have her mother stroke her hair, and rub her back, and murmur into her ear how much she missed her. She had almost forgotten how much she needed her mother, until this very moment. And it was abundantly clear, Delani had missed her mother more than she could ever put into words.

Keeper Milathara squeezed Delani in return, just as tightly. They held each other for a long while, Delani struggling to control her emotions, and her mother content to just be held by her only daughter. When finally they did break apart the sting of the winter wind pricked Delani’s cheeks and, as the Keeper dried the moisture from her face, she realized that she hadn’t been able to hold back her tears.

Holding her by the face, Keeper Milathara held Delani’s sea green eyes with the evergreen of her own, and murmured, “Ir tu suledin ma, da’mi,” before pressing a kiss to Delani’s forehead.

Delani’s voice broke when she returned her mother’s words, “Ir tu suledin ma, mamae.” And truly she had missed her mother with every fiber of her being.

At the sound of footsteps coming up behind her, they broke apart. Delani kept her arm around her mother’s waist as she turned to face Cullen as he approached them. There was a welcoming smile on his lips, a happy sparkle in his eyes, and Delani knew without a shadow of doubt that this was his doing. She had told him how much she missed her mother, and he had gone through the trouble of bringing clan Lavellan’s Keeper all the way to Skyhold. This man had no equal.

To Keeper Milathara and the hunters, he said, “Sulgaras in el arla. Ir nehnelgar na shiral dareth sa,” and everyone within hearing distance of him stared at Cullen in speechless surprise. Even Delani, who knew how well he was learning her tongue, was shocked by how much he had said and how well he had said it. She wondered how long he had been rehearsing those lines. Creators, just when she thought that she couldn’t possibly love him any more.

Her mother blinked back her surprise, a happy and approving grin spreading over her lips as she bowed her head in acknowledgment of his welcome. “Ma seranas, el falon.” Grin growing, her pine green eyes shone with maternal pride as she observed, “Your Elvish is impressive, Commander.”

Behind them, Josephine made a noise of agreement, and Delani remembered that introductions were in order. She grabbed her mother’s hand and pulled her toward the advisors. “Mamae, these are my advisors: Ambassador Lady Montilyet, and Lady Leliana the Left Hand of Late Divine Justina V.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” her mother bowed her head in greeting before accepting both of their hands. “Delani has told me great things about the both of you.”

“Ladies,” Delani said, addressing her advisors. This half of the introduction was unnecessary, but she did performed it anyway. Delani was just too excited to have her mother at Skyhold. She intended to introduce the Keeper to damn near everyone who called the fortress home. “This is Keeper Milathara, my mother.”

It was Josephine who said, “It is so nice to finally meet you, Keeper. It is nice to be able to put a name to a face. Especially to someone so important to the Inquisitor.”

“You are kind, Lady Montilyet,” her mother returned with a soft smile.

Waving off the formality, Josephine insisted, “Josephine will do just fine, Keeper. You are family, after all.” When Keeper Milathara grinned at the warmth of Josephine’s welcome, the ambassador dove right in to her ambassadorial duties. “Our Horse Master, Dennet, will be able to assist with the care of your halla.”

Keeper Milathara looked over her shoulder and instructed the hunters to take the halla to the stables. When she returned her attention to Delani and her advisors it was with a smile on her lips. To her daughter, she stated, “So this is the Tarasyl'an Te’las of legend. It is a fortress befitting the Inquisition.”

Delani looped her arm through her mother’s and said, “Come, allow us to show you around before you retire to your quarters to rest from your travels.” Before taking a step forward, Delani paused and turned her attention to her advisors with panic in her eyes. Clearly painted on her expression was the question, ‘they do have quarters, don’t they?’ and Josephine nodded in reassurance that everything had already been taken care of.

Relieved that Cullen and the others had taken care of all of the details, Delani led her mother up the stairs from the lower courtyard and then into the Keep. Cullen stayed close to her side, a grin on his face as he watched Delani with her mother. All it took was a look at him to know that he was pleased with the result of his surprise and, later, Delani would have to thank him properly for bringing her mother to see her. The gesture was so incredibly thoughtful, and words alone would not be enough to demonstrate her gratitude.

As they stepped into the main hall, Keeper Milathara patted her daughter’s hand on her arm and offered Delani a warm smile. There was worry in her green eyes, and Delani was startled to see it. Before she could ask her mother what was wrong, the Keeper explained herself. “There is something that I must ask of you and your advisors, da’mi.”

“Anything, mamae,” Delani returned wholeheartedly. Her mother could ask for the sun and Delani would break every law of nature if it meant retrieving it for her.

Before the Keeper could make her request, Josephine suggested that they move the conversation into the privacy of her office. They passed by the nobles loitering inside of the Keep, stopping occasionally to introduce her mother to the nobles worth noting, and smiling pleasantly to the others. Once they were safely inside the privacy of Josephine’s office, Keeper Milathara looked all of them over and allowed a small, reluctant smile to lift her lips. Gripping her staff in one hand, the Keeper turned her attention onto her daughter and allowed the full extent of her concern to shine through her eyes.

“I have taken the clan west for the winter, and we have found ourselves near Wycome.” Delani was familiar with the route, as it was one that they took often. There was good trade to be done near Wycome, and the people were friendly enough, though far from welcoming. They had rarely faced problems before, Delani wondered what had changed this time around.

Scanning over the others, Keeper Milathara stated, “Their city has fallen prey to Venatori influence, and I am afraid that I will not be able to break it without your assistance.” The weight of her words filled the room with tension. Venatori, in Wycome? How could that have happened?

“I will send men right away,” said Cullen, straightening his shoulders. There was a seriousness in his eyes, a determined set to his jaw. He would protect clan Lavellan and defend Wycome at all costs, but Keeper Milathara shook her head at his suggestion.

“No,” she said. “I fear that force will only worsen the situation. I have left my First, Dashanna, in charge of the clan so that I could come, and she informs me that the Duke is paranoid and aggressive. If he were to see the Inquisition’s forces coming down on his home…”

Then the clan and the citizens of Wycome would all be in danger. They could not use force in this matter. They would need discretion, and there was only one of her advisors that Delani trusted to infiltrate Wycome without detection. Before she could give the orders for Leliana to send spies her mother explained the situation further.

“I’ve left Dashanna with the instructions to help the people of Wycome as best we can. But it will be impossible for our people to get near the Duke.”

“Not for mine,” Leliana replied, and looked to Delani in search of approval. When Delani nodded that she had it, she said, “I will send spies into Wycome and we will deal with this Venatori problem, without the bloodshed of your people.”

Keeper Milathara bowed her head. “Ma seranas.”

“And I,” Josephine added, “will speak to our contacts inside of the city and see how deep the Venatori’s influence goes.”

Delani sighed through her nose and ground her teeth as she considered what more they could do. When no answers came to mind, she said, “If that’s all that we can do—“

“It is enough,” her mother assured her, squeezing Delani’s shoulder in reassurance.

She hoped so, if anything were to happen to her clan Delani did not know what she would do. Placing her hand on top of her mothers, she forced a smile onto her lips and gave voice to an agreement that she did not stand completely behind. “It will have to be.”

With a shake of her head, she put the thoughts of Wycome from her mind. There was nothing that she could do from Skyhold, and she trusted Leliana to handle the situation with both tact and finesse. Until they received word otherwise, Delani was going to assume that her clan, her family, were going to be fine. She held her mother’s gaze and allowed an excited and happy grin to spread over her lips.

“Garas, mamae. Allow me and Cullen to show you around Skyhold.” Cullen was at her side in an instant, ready to accompany them on the tour.

Keeper Milathara removed her hand from her daughter’s arm and instead moved toward Cullen. When he offered her his arm, she took it with a grin and Delani had to fight from rolling her eyes. At least she knew that her mother approved of her taste in men. Her mother smiled up at Cullen and said, “You will have to walk slowly, lethallin. These old bones are not as spritely as they once were.”

Starting for the exit, Delani walked ahead of them and held the door open as she argued, “Don’t let her fool you, vhenan’ara.” Grinning at her mother, Delani confessed, “It has been a while since I’ve been with the clan, but she was racing children before I left.”

Cullen made an understanding sound before commenting, “So that’s where you get it from,” and they stepped back out into the main hall. First, she would introduce her mother to Varric, and move on from there. They had a lot to see before she allowed her mother to rest for a bit.

Excitement and contentment burned in Delani’s chest, warming her from the inside out. She linked her fingers with her mother’s free hand and squeezed. It had taken being away from her mother for so long for her to truly appreciate how much she missed her. Delani would never be able to thank Cullen for this. But she would try, and she would enjoy her mother’s company for as long as she could.

Cullen rolled the tension from his shoulders and rubbed his back. He and Delani had spent the entire late afternoon, and a better part of the evening, showing Keeper Milathara around Skyhold and introducing her to everyone who crossed their path. It had filled his heart with such warmth to see Delani with her mother, to see her hug and hold, and reach out and touch her mother without even noticing that she was doing it. The way that both the Keeper and Delani spoke about her father had made him think that Delani had been closer to him than her mother, but seeing her with her mother made him understand. Delani loved her parents in equal measure, but a Keeper’s devotion was to the whole clan, as where her father’s affections could be singular to Delani.

Somehow, after hours of walking around, they had managed to circle back to Cullen’s office, where Keeper Milathara was seated in front of Cullen’s desk listening to Delani as she told her mother about Captain Ophelia and how lost Cullen would be without her. Leaning back into his desk chair, Cullen made himself comfortable as he listened to Delani marginalize his ability to operate without the help of his second in command. She was teasing him to get a reaction out of him and he knew it, but Cullen was much too content seeing Delani’s beaming smile and the knowledge that he was the one who helped put it on her lips.

Now if only he could convince Delani to give him a moment alone with her mother. He had invited Keeper Milathara to Skyhold for Delani’s benefit, but there was something that he needed to ask of her as well, and he couldn’t do it with Delani present. But it wasn’t as though he could ask her to leave. That would garner Delani’s suspicion, and she would refuse. Cullen had managed to pull off one surprise today, she would not allow him to even attempt another.

As though she could hear his thoughts, Keeper Milathara gave her daughter a maternal smile before patting her leg and saying, “Da’mi, emma asha, would you please be so kind as to find Argo’lan for me? He has my herbs and I would like to make us all some tea.”

Delani placed her hand on top of her mother’s and squeezed it tightly. Pushing herself off of the edge of Cullen’s desk, she placed a kiss on her mother’s forehead before doing what was asked of her. She threw a glance over her shoulder before leaving his office, and said, “I’ll be right back. Try not to have too much fun without me.”

“We will try, da’mi,” the Keeper assured her and they both waited for the sound of the door closing being Delani before they met and held each other’s gazes.

Suddenly Cullen was filled with nerves. He had thought over how this conversation would go many times. He had rehearsed what he would say, and he had thought of any argument that she would pose against him. Cullen knew the words that had to be spoken between them, but now they were escaping him.

Clearing his throat, Cullen awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck before finally finding his voice. Keeper Milathara was watching him closely, inspecting his features in search of something and, whatever it was, he hoped she’d find it. “Keeper Milathara,” he started, nervously scratching the back of his head as he regarded the older woman. “I was hoping to speak with you privately.”

She bowed her head in understanding, a smile ghosting over her lips as she returned, “And I with you, Cullen. And now it seems we have our chance.”

Eyebrows arching with surprise, he said, “You wanted to speak to me as well? What about?”

With a wave of her hand she dismissed his questions and instead pursued his reasons for wanting to speak in private. “We will get to that. What is it that you wanted to discuss?”

“I-I…” the words were now impossible to articulate with any semblance of eloquence. Still Cullen tried to get them out. “Delani and I… this sounded much better in my head.”

Keeper Milathara laughed softly and her smile grew with her amusement. Pine green eyes regarded him kindly as she said, “Go on, lethallin. I promise not to bite.”

A small smile lifted his lips at the sound of her words. There was so much of the Keeper in Delani. Their senses of humor were  so similar, and the mischievous sparkle in their green eyes was unmistakably identical. Everything about them, straight down to their appearance was similar, and Cullen wondered what Delani’s father had looked like; which traits had she inherited from the man.

Shaking the wandering thoughts from his mind, Cullen returned himself to the conversation and took a deep breath. Holding Keeper Milathara’s gaze, he started with the easy, undeniable, irrevocable truth. “I love your daughter, Keeper, more than I ever thought possible.” Her smile grew and Cullen pressed himself to continue. “She is my heart, and I would not be the man you see before you today without her support and love.”

Leaning forward in his seat, Cullen rested his arms on the desk’s surface. Lacing his fingers together, he held the woman’s gaze and tried to impart with his eyes exactly how serious he was on the topic, and how much her support meant to him. Swallowing hard, he forced his nerves back down, and shoved away the anxiety shadowing his thoughts.

With much more confidence than what he was feeling, Cullen admitted, “When the threat of Corypheus has ended, and we’ve healed the sky, I would like to marry Delani. And I was hoping to receive your blessing.”

Her eyes widened with surprise before she schooled her expression back to neutrality. Holding her hands in her lap, Keeper Milathara maintained Cullen’s gaze as she searched his eyes for the sincerity in his words. When she was satisfied with whatever it was she found, She exhaled heavily through her nose.

When she next spoke, her words caught Cullen completely by surprise. “Delani was not my first born child.”

Cullen had little choice but to sputter out a confused, “She wasn’t?”

With a shake of her head, Keeper Milathara explained, “I had a son before her. He was a stillbirth.”

“I’m sorry,” Cullen stated, unsure how to reply. The two words felt so lacking. He could not even imagine what that must have been like for her. And still he tried to find the words appropriate for what she had endured, “That must have been—“

“Terrible,” she nodded that he had guessed correctly. “Yes, it was. For many years I cursed the gods for taking him from me, for allowing me to love my son as he grew in my belly, to have dreams and hopes for him, only to take him from me the moment of his birth.”

She rubbed her barren belly, recalling what it must have been like to be with child. Her expression was no longer neutral and had turned thoughtful as she considered the child that fate had deprived her. When she finally met Cullen’s gaze again a faint smile edged her lips.

“Not a day goes by that I do not think of the man that he would have become. Would he have been loyal, confident, would he have been protective, intelligent, wise, and observant. Would he have been anything like you?”

Cullen’s breath caught in his throat with her question. She compared her son to him? She could not possibly understand how profound an impact her words had on Cullen. He had been prepared for outright rejection, had thought of every argument in his arsenal to make her see reason. For her to say that she imagined, that she had hoped, that her late son would have been like him… it was humbling.

“I tell you all of this because the gods work in mysterious ways,” she said, her smile growing as she regarded him. “They took my son, but they gifted me with a daughter who is my entire world. And through her, they have given me a son once more.”

His eyes widened and she nodded that he had heard her correctly. “You are everything that I would have hoped my son to be, and your love for my daughter is the greatest gift a mother could ask for. When the time is right, and the land knows peace once more, when you are both ready, I would be more than happy to see my daughter paired to a man such as you.”

Jaw falling slack, Cullen could do little more than just stare at the Keeper for a moment. With a shake of his head, he snapped his mouth shut and breathlessly murmured, “Keeper, you humble me.”

She shook her head in disagreement. “I am merely honest, Lethallin.”

“Thank you,” said Cullen, breathless from his surprise. “I do not know what I expected but it certainly wasn’t this. Thank you.” He would never be able to thank her enough for the gift she had given him.

Keeper Milathara laughed at his needless gratitude, unaware that had Delani been in his position, speaking to his mother, her reception would not have been nearly as kind. “I only wish for my daughter to be happy, Cullen. And you make her the happiest I have ever seen her. I will be delighted to call you son when the day comes.”

He could not help the grin that expanded over his lips. Rubbing the back of his neck, he pressed on to the next matter of discussion. “This brings me to my next question. How do the Dalish propose marriage?”

Her eyebrows shot up with surprise before an approving grin spread over her lips. Pine green eyes glittering with contentment and excitement, Keeper Milathara was happy to answer his question. “In our clan a union is proposed by offering the hide of a freshly hunted beast. It symbolizes one's ability to provide for one's future family.”

“Thank you, Keeper.” Would it ever feel like he had thanked her enough? Cullen seriously doubted it. She could not possibly understand how much her acceptance meant to him. She could not know how happy she had made him by welcoming him without a moment’s hesitation. And still he tried to help her understand how deeply her approval had affected him.

“You cannot possibly understand how much it means to me for you to accept me to easily.”

“I want my daughter to be happy,” Keeper Milathara repeated with a smile. She gestured to the carved halla and lion decorating Cullen’s desk and her simper grew with love and affection. “And you make her so happy that she’s carving again.” With a shake of her head, she admitted, “My daughter has not carved a single thing since we lost her father. To see her taking it up again.”

When she looked up at Cullen again there were tears in her eyes. “I am happy that you two have found each other.”

Cullen opened his mouth to reply but, before he could, the door to his office swung open and Delani sauntered in with a tray loaded with a tea kettle and mugs in hand. “I hope you didn’t scare him off, mother.” Winking at Cullen, she added, “I like this one.”

Smile growing into a grin, the Keeper agreed with an amused, “You and I both, da’mi.”

He felt his features flush. This was not what he had been expecting, but Cullen was pleased by the surprise either way. Delani got to see her mother again, and Cullen got to live with the knowledge that their union would be accepted by the Keeper and her clan. When he did finally propose to Delani, there would be one less thing standing in their way. And the knowledge filled him with excitement.

Chapter Text

“No.”

“Inquisitor,” Josephine tried to insist, only for Delani to shake her head adamantly in answer.

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Delani repeated, “No.”

Josephine was holding up a pair of outrageous shoes that had to cost enough to buy a small country. They were made with spring green silk and garnished with rubies, emeralds, embroidered with swooping, swirling, and shiny gold thread, and had heels so tall that they may as well have been considered stilts.

Supposedly, they were beautiful shoes, and Delani guessed that she understood the allure. She could easily imagine Josephine and Leliana fawning over the shoes as though they were a newborn child. But, personally, Delani found them to be just too intimidating for her to even consider putting them on.

Her Antivan advisor looked displeased by Delani’s stubborn refusal, and huffed in distaste. “It completes the ensemble, Lady Lavellan.”

“It’s a sprained ankle just waiting to happen, Josie.” Delani shook her head again, refusing to continue the topic. “I won’t wear them. I don’t care if the Empress requested it herself,” she hadn’t, luckily. “Those shoes are an accident posed to strike and I’m not risking it.”

Delani had been pliable enough throughout this entire endeavor. As a thank you to her advisors for helping Cullen bring her mother to Skyhold, she had allowed herself to be subjected to fittings, etiquette classes, to dance lessons, and memorizing the names of all the notable noble families of Orlais and the gossip surrounding them. Delani knew which fork to eat with during whichever course meal was being served. She knew the steps to most of Orlais’ popular dances. She knew which noble’s were allied, which were enemies, she knew who was sleeping with who, and who she needed to avoid.

Delani was even well enough versed in The Game to fake her way through a conversation with a high placed noble. For weeks she had allowed herself to suffer at the hands of Josephine, Leliana, Dorian, and Vivienne. But those shoes were the straw that broke the halla’s back. She wouldn’t do it. Not in this lifetime.

Eyebrows bent downward with exasperation, Josephine needlessly reminded her, “Well you can’t very well go barefoot, Inquisitor.”

Watch me, Delani wanted to rebuke and then stamp out of the room like a child having a temper tantrum. Sometimes the demands of being Inquisitor were just ludicrous. A ball? At the Winter Palace? In Halamshiral? The Dalish’s Halamshiral that had been stolen from them by religious bigots on a genocidal march? They were lucky that she had even agreed to attend in the first place. If the Empress’ life wasn’t at stake, Delani would have been hard pressed to go to this pompous, stuffy, over the top affair at all.

With a heavy sigh, Delani rubbed the pinch between her eyebrows and prayed to the pantheon for patience. Without looking up at Josephine, Delani replied, “I’m not asking to go barefoot, Josie. I’m just asking not to wear those ridiculous looking heels.”

Josephine took in a sharp breath in insult and Vivienne, from her place on the loveseat, joined the conversation before Delani could do any further damage. “Josephine, darling, perhaps the slippers would be more to the Inquisitor’s liking,” she suggested with an encouraging shine in her eyes.

With displeasure sharp in her gaze, Josephine went to go retrieve the slippers in question on the other side of Delani’s chambers. They had come here for the last minute preparations. Soon they would be leaving for Halamshiral and, before they went, they had to be sure that Delani’s gown fit as perfectly as the fashionably sensible people in her life desired it to. Hence Vivienne’s presence throughout all of this nonsense.

“Those heels would have completed the dress, dear.” Vivienne purred, pulling herself up off of the love seat with the grace of a cat born of pedigree. As she approached the mirror facing pedestal, she prompted, “You know this, yes?”

Turning her nose at the very thought, Delani argued, “The only thing I know is that I can’t fight in heels.” She looked down at the sharply pointed heels adorned on the mage’s feet, before meeting her eyes again. With a small smirk turning her lips, she commented, “Not all of us can be both graceful and fashionable all at once.”

“Quite,” Vivienne easily agreed.

Her smile grew, “I’ll leave that responsibility to you and Dorian.”

At the mention of her competition, Vivienne’s eyes narrowed a bit before her own smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. “My, my, Inquisitor, a backhanded compliment. You are getting better at The Game.”

“Who knew my glibness would serve me so well,” wondered Delani with a smirk, turning her attention to the mirror in time to see the ambassador crossing the room in her direction again.

Josephine returned with a lovely pair of slippers in hand. They were the same color silk, embroidered with lovely golden thread. The quality was no less than the heels she had insisted upon earlier, but they were leagues less intimidating, and that was enough for Delani. “Are these acceptable, Inquisitor?”

The Antivan woman’s annoyance didn’t go unnoticed by Delani, who grinned and nodded in answer. “They are,” she said, her tone gentle as to not provoke Josephine anymore than she already had. “Thank you, Josie.”

Her advisor cocked an eyebrow at Delani’s forced tone, but accepted her gratitude all the same. Placing the slippers down on the side table beside the mirror, she sighed and looked up at Delani. With her hands on her hips, Josephine suggested, “We should go over who you need to speak with at the ball.”

“What we should do,” Vivienne intervened before Delani had to go down the long list of nobles that would be absolute cross with the Inquisition if Delani didn’t take the time to speak with them herself. Looking at Delani and pursing her lips in thought, the First Enchanter finished, “is to figure out what we’re going to do with your hair.”

At the sight of Josephine’s eyes widening in agreement Delani almost preferred talking about nobles than having to endure what was next in store for her. Tapping her chin, Josephine commented, “I was thinking it could be pulled to the side, and braided away from her face. And we could have those lovely golden flowers pinning it all in place.”

Vivienne’s gaze was on Delani as she envisioned what Josephine had just described. “That would look absolutely darling,” she agreed, her eyes on Delani’s auburn hair as she stepped up, draped it over a single shoulder and held Delani’s long bangs away from her face. “It will bring attention to her ears and lovely tattoos.”

“Vallaslin,” Delani corrected her, waiting patiently to be released from the First Enchanter’s clutches.

A sideways smirk twisted her lips at being corrected, but Vivienne carried on as though Delani hadn’t spoken at all. “We must showcase the Inquisitor’s Dalish heritage. It will distinguish her, and serve as a reminder that the Herald of Andraste is an ambassador between two peoples.”

Sighing loudly at being referred to as Herald, Delani combed her hair back into place when Vivienne finally freed the crimson locks. “Showcase my Dalish heritage all you like. I don’t think I’ll be any better received because of it.” She was actually pretty sure that she would be viewed with even more contempt that way. Not acclimatizing to the Orlesian social norms was punishable by death after all, if only a figurative one.

“No,” Vivienne conceded. “But you will just have to show them all that you are no ordinary elf.”

“Because the ordinary elves will be filling my drinks.”

Perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed with distaste, the mage woman asked, “Will you be behaving like this during your entire visit to the Winter Palace,” with annoyance heavy in her otherwise calm voice.

Nonplused, Delani shrugged. “Behaving like the people around me consider my only redeeming quality to be that I have an army of soldiers serving me, and that I’m the only person that can heal the sky?” she asked with a tilt of her head. Taking a moment to consider, Delani nodded curtly and replied, “I just might.”

It was Vivienne’s turn to sigh heavily. Holding Delani’s gaze with a scolding look in her rich brown eyes, she inquired, “Must you make this about race? It’s a ball, the Empress’ life is in danger, you are representing the Inquisition not just elves.”

“I thought that I was ‘an ambassador between two peoples’,” Delani challenged with a snide twist of her lips.

Admittedly, Delani was giving Vivienne a harder time than was necessary. She and Josephine were trying to help, attempting to prepare Delani for what awaited her at the Winter Palace as best they could. Despite how grateful she was for their efforts, the whole thing still rubbed Delani the wrong way. Vivienne wanted to ‘showcase her Dalish heritage’ but the Dalish did not waltz. They didn’t have an army of silverware specific to whichever course a meal was being served. The Dalish did not play games that could result in social, monetary, or familial ruin. She knew better than to believe that it was her heritage that was being showcased. What Vivienne was actually suggesting was prettying up a wild elf woman and making sure she was socially acceptable to humans who were scared of anything that was different than themselves.

Delani did not mind acculturating to the Orlesian way of life, at least for one night. She minded being lied to about the purpose of her re-education. She wanted Vivienne to call it what it was: an act to make the Savage Inquisitor more palatable to Orlesian hierarchy. If she knew the dances and played The Game then perhaps it was not so bad that the Herald of Andraste was a knife ear.

With a smile forced onto her lips Josephine interjected before the conversation could escalate into something far less pleasant. “Perhaps we should discuss how you can go about receiving the court’s favor?”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes and returned Josephine’s smile with a small one of her own. Pursing her lips, Delani cocked an eyebrow and drawled out, “By saving the Empress’ life?” When both she and Vivienne pinned her with an unamused look, Delani allowed a playfully flabbergasted expression to widen her features. “You mean that saving the Empire and stopping Corypheus isn’t going to be enough to win over the Orlesian nobility? What does a girl have to do to be appreciated around here?”

“I suggest you start taking this seriously, Inquisitor,” Madam De Fur had her serious face on and Delani immediately fell into line at the sight of it. Eyes sharp with cutting disapproval, she said, “One misstep can result in the Inquisition losing favor and support from our Orlesian backers. Is that a blow that you are ready to take, Inquisitor?”

Delani breathed in deeply and let it out slowly through her nose. She knew that Vivienne was right. For all her distaste in participating in this pompous affair, it was important that Delani played her part to perfection. More than the Inquisition’s future was at risk, after all; the fate of an entire nation depended on her.

No pressure, she thought with an internal sigh.

Nodding that she understood Vivienne’s meaning, and would reign in her sass, Delani admitted defeat. “I will not mess this up, Lady Vivienne.”

“See that you don’t, my dear,” she returned, raising her chin. “The night’s success lays entirely on your shoulders.

Before Delani could form a remark, the sound of the door to her chambers opening pulled the conversation to a halt. The three women waited, staring at the banister as they searched for the person behind the interruption. A smile instantly formed on Delani’s lips at the sight of Cullen’s golden hair appearing before the rest of him did.

Finally her knight in shining armor had come to her rescue. If he could save her from Vivienne and Josephine’s pulling and tugging hands for even a moment, she would be indebted to him for the rest of her days. She watched as he strode his way into their room and greeted both women with a polite bow of his head.

“Ladies,” he said, his eyes landing on Delani long enough to take note of her distress, and for amusement to sparkle in those amber irises at the sight of it. Returning his attention to the other two women, he finished, “I apologize for the intrusion, but if you would please give me a moment with the Inquisitor, I would be grateful.”

Delani loudly clapped her hands together before either women could reply. When the sudden noise jolted all of their attention toward her, she waved for the women to be on their way. “You heard the man,” she said, “give us the room.”

Josephine and Vivienne both shared a look before sighing and acquiescing to Delani’s demands. As they passed Cullen on their way toward the door, Vivienne gave the Commander a hard look and advised him to, “Make it quick, Commander. There is still much to be done before the Inquisitor is ready for Halamshiral.”

With an understanding nod in reply, Cullen moved his gaze back onto Delani and a small smile started to curl the corner of his mouth. They waited for the sound of the door shutting before either of them released their breaths, a habit that was easily formed whenever amidst conversation with Vivienne. When they were positive that they were alone, Cullen’s smile fully unravelled over his lips and Delani jumped off of the pedestal and ran into Cullen’s arms. He had saved her from her tormentors and she would have to thank him properly for it.

Holding her to his chest, he wondered, “Are you having fun, ma atishan?”

“Don’t tease me, vhenan’ara,” she pouted. “I am suffering and you know it.”

A chuckle rumbled from his chest and Cullen released her from his embrace. Walking over to the chest pushed against the far wall of the room, Cullen pushed open the lid and began to rummage through his things. Without turning to face her, he stated, “I’m leaving ahead of you with a platoon of men to ensure that the roads are clear for your arrival.”

“You’re leaving without me?” Delani skulked, incredulous. Not only was he going to abandon her here, in the hands of demanding socialites, but he was also going to take away the only fun that she was likely to have on the road to Halamshiral.

Finding whatever it was that he had been searching for, Cullen shut the chest and stood to his feet. He turned to face her with an apologetic look on his handsome face before crossing the distance between them once again. “As much as I would love to travel along side you, ensuring that you make it to the Winter Palace safely must take priority.”

With a sigh, she combed her fingers through her hair until she was holding the back of her neck. Twisting her lips with discontent, she admitted, “I know,” before scuffing her bare foot over the expensive rug underfoot. Glancing up at Cullen past her eyelashes, Delani quietly added, “I just… I don’t think I’ll be able to make it through this without you.”

Surprise found its way onto Cullen’s face before he brushed his thumb across the branches of her vallaslin and cupped her cheek in his hand. Concern was alight in his eyes when he asked, “What is troubling you, Delani?”

She placed her hand on top of his and searched his eyes of honey and gold. When she found only love and support in those enchanting depths, she forced a small smile onto her lips, aiming for nonchalance. “Just, you know, the future of a whole country depends on my success, and no one is going to make it easy for me to help them because I’m an elf.”

Cullen’s brows instantly furrowed with disapproval and he opened his mouth to argue. “Delani—“ he started only for her to squeeze his hand against her cheek and cut him off before he could finish.

“I’m no ordinary elf, I know,” she stated before he could. Taking his hand from her cheek, she held it between them and laced her fingers through his. Holding Cullen’s open gaze she tried to impart her meaning with him as best she could. “You told me before that in the Circles where you served the elves were treated no differently than the other human mages. And, even if that’s true, you don’t know what it’s like for elves outside of the Circles. You don’t know what it has been like for Sera, or Solas, or even me, and you never will because you are not an elf.”

He remained silent as she spoke, not trying to argue with her about the limits of his understanding, or the powers of his empathy. Cullen simply listened as she attempted to explain to him the burden of her race in a way that he might comprehend.

Biting her lip, Delani squeezed his hand one last time before releasing his fingers from hers. She started to pace in front of him, hoping that if she kept moving the words she was trying to find would make themselves known to her. “You don’t know what Sera had to go through being an elf raised by a human. She was too human to be an elf and too elf-y to be human. I may not like her, but I can appreciate that there are reasons behind why she is the way that she is.”

“And Solas,” she continued, “not only an elf but an apostate as well. He has been rejected by humans and elves, both city born and Dalish.” Her gaze was on her feet as she walked to and fro, back and forth, working through her thoughts and hoping that they were cohesive enough for Cullen to follow. “He has no place, is it really so surprising that he spends so much time studying the Beyond?”

She could feel Cullen’s gaze following her as she paced their room. Delani could feel the concern of his gaze, but also the patient understanding as he waited for her to sift through her thoughts before giving voice to them. Neutrally, he wondered, “What about you? You have a place here, and you had a place before joining the Inquisition too.”

“I was lucky,” Delani replied. “To be born to a clan and not in an alienage. I met my first human when I was ten, and it was only then that I realized that I was different. He looked at my father and the hunters of my clan with fear and with hatred, and that was the first time that I realized that he, and other humans, thought that being an elf was not something to be proud of.

Hahren Niveen used to tell stories about humans, how they hated us, how there were elves who submitted to the shemlan and lived in impoverished cities. I never believed it until that day. I never thought that anyone could hate me or my clan without even knowing us. I could never imagine anyone submitting to that hatred or living in poverty like the kind Hahren Niveen described to us.”

With a shake of her head, Delani repeated, “I was so lucky, to grow up without feeling any shame for the shape of my ears, or like I was not a worthwhile person because I’m not human. But not everyone gets to grow up without that shame, Sera didn’t. Most elves are treated as though their lives don’t matter, and so many just accept that.”

She stopped pacing, clutching her hands into tight fists at her sides. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess. This was a topic that had always disturbed her. Delani hated the position that her people were in, not just the Dalish, but all elvhen. A thousand years her people had been trampled over by those who thought themselves better than them, who thought that their genocide and racism was sanctioned by their god. And no one so much as batted an eyelash. It was the way things were, the elves needed to get over what had happened to them, what was still happening to them, and they needed to just accept that this was the way things were now.

But Delani refused. Never in a thousand years would anyone have guessed that an elf would be named Inquisitor, that the masses would call her the Herald of Andraste. But those were the roles and the titles that Delani now wore, and if she was to be Andraste’s mouthpiece then it was her duty as a elf to speak out against the oppression of her kind. Things needed to change, and Delani needed to be the one to change them, she just didn’t know where to start.

Sighing heavily, she rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes before turning to face Cullen once again. He hadn’t moved, staying right where he was to watch her as she paced, to listen to her every word. There was no judgment in his amber eyes, no criticism or disagreement. All there was, was adoration and an obvious desire to understand. He didn’t argue with Delani on this because he knew that he had no right to. He was not an elf, he did not know what it was like to be one, he could only listen and try to sympathize with a position that he would never be placed in. Just when Delani thought that she could not possibly love him more, he proved to her time and time again that there were no bounds to just how fiercely she could love that man.

Brows furrowed with concentration, Delani stated, “My point is this: I will have to earn what humans are given freely because of the shape of my ears. Say what you will, but I have not spent the last few weeks learning how to be more Orlesian. I’ve been learning how to be more human so that I will be more socially acceptable while at the Winter Palace. And not even that will be enough.”

She shook her head. “I am the one person that can save the Empress’ life, I’m the only hope to close the Breach, and I will have to earn the respect of these nobles because I’m an elf, and therefore beneath them by my very nature.” Making an exasperated sound, she continued, “The future of Thedas rests with me, and yet it is I who will have to work for their favor; when, logically, it should be the other way around.

“But it isn’t, because I’m an elf. I will always have to prove myself, I will always have to earn respect, I will never be taken seriously at first glance because I had the ‘misfortune’ of not being born a human.” Frustrated, Delani started to grind her teeth. She erased the space between her and Cullen and grabbed him by the fur of his mantel. Without looking up to meet his gaze, she stared at her blurred reflection in his breastplate and sighed through her nose.

His hands found their place on her waist and he pulled her deeper into his arms. Holding her tenderly, he stroked her back and remained silent as he waited for her to find her voice once more. “Vivienne wants me to be an ‘ambassador between two peoples’ but it feels more like I’m apologizing for being who and what I am. And she expects me to be quiet about it, as though the topic of race is a non-issue, when the truth is that this should be a subject discussed with double the fervor as the topic of mage rights and freedoms. But no one gives a damn because it’s been a thousand years since the march on the Dales, and elf lives don’t matter.”

Cullen pressed Delani to his chest and planted a kiss on the top of her head. After a moment of quietly holding one another, he finally said, “Then don’t be quiet about it.”

Surprised, she pulled away from his arms just enough to see his face and was met with both sincerity and support. “What?” she asked, uncertain that she had heard him correctly, or that he had actually meant his words in the way she thought he did.

An encouraging smile curled the corners of his mouth, and Cullen’s hands tightened around her. “People, myself included, have become accustomed to the way things are. And the way things are is wrong. You are in a position to change the way the world works. Your ability to change things makes it your responsibility to change things.”

For the second time that day Delani thought, no pressure, and Cullen must have noticed the uncertainty in her features. His hands moved up to her shoulders, and held her gaze with all the support he could offer. With a smile on his lips, Cullen stated, “This is something that you feel strongly about, Delani, and I’m certain that you are not alone in feeling this way. You are the Inquisitor and when you speak people will listen. The world will change around you because you will make it so.”

With warmth and adoration in his honey colored eyes, he finished, “You aren’t in this alone, I will support you every step of the way. You never need to fear otherwise.”

For a moment all Delani could do was just stare up at Cullen. He surprised and amazed her everyday, and she doubted that she would ever become accustomed to his unconditional and unwavering love and affection. He had no equal.

Unable to help herself, Delani threw her arms around his neck and pulled herself up to his lips. With the kiss she relayed to him how much his support meant to her, how much she loved and needed him. She knew that her time in Halamshiral would not be easy, but she also knew that, with Cullen’s support, she would survive the night. Who knew, she might even enjoy it.

At the sound of the door opening, tension found its way back between her shoulder blades with the knowledge that the momentary reprieve that Cullen had provided had finally come to an end. Cullen stared over her head at the banister for a moment, distaste in his eyes, before sighing heavily and shaking his head. Their time was up and the realities of their roles were beckoning them both.

Placing a gentle kiss to Delani’s brow, Cullen brushed her bangs away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. “I love you,” he said in a way that left no room for doubt.

A small smile quirked her lips and she easily returned, “And I love you,” before stepping back into his warmth and standing on the tips of her toes until he craned down to meet her lips. It was a short, departing kiss, they could spare each other no more than that. When she settled back onto the flat of her feet, Delani said, “Travel safely, vhenan’ara. And do try not to take all my fun.”

He returned her smile and chuckled a bit. “Why would I do that,” Cullen started, walking around Delani toward the stairs that both Vivienne and Josephine were emerging from. When he was a safe distance away from Delani, he said, “when there is so much fun for you to have right here?”

With a grin on his lips he started down the stair with a brief, “Ladies,” in acknowledgment of the women entering their room.

As Cullen disappeared behind the banister, Delani shouted after him, “You’re a cruel man, Cullen Rutherford!” and grinned at the sound of his chortle at the bottom of the stairs.

Moving her attention to the women quickly closing in on her, Delani noticed the large white box in Josephine’s hands and the impish expressions on both of their faces. With a trill to her voice Josie exclaimed, “Your dress is ready for you, Inquisitor. Let’s try it on!”

A heavy sigh fell out of her as Delani accepted her fate. She would die at these women’s hands. Death by fashion, that was to be her end. Grousing her way over to the mirror once more, Delani waited for Josephine to open the box and release the beast that awaited inside.

When she was as ready as she was going to be, Delani murmured, “Let’s get this over with,” and resigned herself to being pulled and tugged at by her friends’ merciless hands.

Cullen would take a full suit of plate armor over these scratchy, stiff, and irritatingly indefensible ceremonial garbs any day. It was made of fabric, for Maker’s sake. How was he supposed to protect his vital organs from a crossbow’s bolt without armor?

He sighed through his nose and readjusted his gloves for the hundredth time. The journey to Halamshiral had gone without incident. He and his men had crossed into Orlais and made their way to the Winter Palace without encountering so much as a cutpurse. The thought of Delani’s disappointment filled his chest with warmth. Andraste’s grace, that woman had a taste for adventure he would never fully understand.

They had already been here for a day and tonight, the night of the Empress’ ball, Delani would be making her appearance. She would be walking in on the arm of the Grand Duke Gaspard, who had been their quickest way into this over the top affair. Though Cullen was less than pleased with the thought of Delani having anyone other than himself standing at her side, he was not jealous of the Duke in the slightest. Let the Orlesian general and usurper have the pleasure of Delani’s ambient company for a minute, when the night was over it was his bed she would be sharing; not Gaspard’s.

Clearing the distracting thoughts from his mind with a shake of his head, Cullen refocused on the task at hand. He had to be on guard for any possible threats awaiting the Empress, and he had to be ready for Josephine’s signal to get into position so that he and the Inquisition’s representatives could be properly introduced to the court.

He scanned over the area, taking in all of the nobles, every last one of them adorned in their fanciful masks and expensive dresses. Everything about this was a facade, every gesture, every word, every bout of false laughter, it was all part of The Game. And there were not enough words in any language to adequately describe how much Cullen loathed The Game.

From somewhere behind him, his attention was caught by the coattails of a conversation between nobles. Cullen tilted his head a bit, focusing on the words while fighting off his growing anger.

“Why are there so many elves here?” one of the men asked, disgust as clear and loud in his voice as his annoyance.

The man to whom he had presented the question replied with an unimpressed, “The Empress invited them.”

“Why would she bother?”

Cullen could imagine the other man shrugging as he replied, “The Inquisitor is an elf.”

He frowned at the the replying affronted gasp. “Is she really? I heard rumor, but I didn’t think that it could possibly be true.” The man chuckled and it was a snide sound. “I suppose it makes sense for the servant of Andraste to be an elf. They’re not good for much else.”

They both laughed heartily at the jibe and Cullen turned to face them. These ignorant fools thought that they could insult Delani, did they not realize who she was? Did they not know what she’d done, what she was capable of? Didn’t they realize that she was the only one who could save them from that blasted tear in the sky?

Obviously not, or they wouldn’t have made such bigoted statements, and Cullen was more than happy to not only inform them of who Delani was, but to also correct them in their fool notion that they could speak badly against the woman that he loved.

Just as Cullen was about to tear the noblemen apart limb from limb, his arm was caught by Leliana and she held him in place. He moved his glare down to the spymaster and tried to reign in his fury. Cullen would defend Delani to his dying breath, but by Leliana’s warning look he knew that now was not the time. It was only when Cullen relaxed his shoulders, sighed through his nose, and nodded that he was calm, that she released him from her grasp.

“We’re about to be announced, Commander,” she said, giving the men he had just been about to maim a sidelong glance. Cullen recognized the unsettling shadow in her eyes and felt a touch of relief. Leliana would see the pair dealt with, and she would do so with much more discretion than what Cullen was capable of. When she looked back at him it was with the instructions, “Get into position.”

Throwing a final glare in the direction of the chatting noblemen, Cullen made his way to the landing where Josephine already stood in wait. He took his place between Josephine and Leliana and stood at attention as he waited for the Inquisition to be announced.

From somewhere behind the banister, the crier’s voice introduced Delani and the Grand Duke Gaspard. At the sound for the gasps filling the room, Cullen turned his gaze to the top of the stairs; where Delani stood with her arm through the Duke’s.

Cullen could not help the sharp intake of breath that filled him at the sight of Delani as she and Gaspard started down the steps. His focus narrowed on the beauty before him, and the rest of the world faded from existence. Never in his life had he seen a creature so lovely. She was something out of a dream.

Her crimson hair was styled to the side, leaving her sharp ears exposed, tipped with gold and encrusted with emeralds. A glittering half mask of gold covered her gorgeous face from the nose up, the design was simple and elegant, with feathers of green fanning out from the sides, and around her eyes were petals of bursting red that made Delani’s eyes shine bright clear across the room.

He had witnessed Mia work on enough dresses to be able to appreciate the craftsmanship of Delani’s gown. It had sleeves of chiffon that started just under her elbow, with flowers and swirls designed into the fabric. The sleeves covered her shoulders and met at her collar in a fashion that he remembered Mia referring to as a boat neck. A key hole dipped from the chiffon collar all the way down the front of her ribcage, revealing the breath stealing sight of her cleavage like an open window.

The skirts were not as full as was common in Orlesian fashion, but instead cascaded down her legs like a quietly flowing spring. With shades of green so gradient they went from celadon to pine, the flower petals and swooping designs embroidered into the dress with golden thread were deliberate guidelines for his eyes to follow. The dress was a work of art, but it was the woman who wore it that made it a masterpiece.

Cullen swallowed, trying to bring moisture back into his mouth. The sight of Delani had left him feeling so thirsty his mouth felt bone dry. Their eyes met and a smile toyed at the corner of her mouth. The nod she gave him was slight, a discreet hello that would go unseen by the nobles surrounding them. It was only then that Cullen remembered where he was. Looking around, he finally noticed the whispering onlookers, their words muffled behind gloved hands. Still slurs like knife ear and savage reached his ears, and Cullen was baffled that they could feel anything other than reverence for the ethereal goddess that graced them all with her presence.

Stopping on the landing in front of him, Josephine, and Leliana, Cullen sucked in another sharp breath before biting back a groan. Delani’s dress was backless, the crimson branches of her vallaslin clear for all to see on her warm bronzy skin. Taut shoulder muscles were defined on her strong back, and Cullen made a mental note to ask that she keep that dress.

When they were introduced to the entirety of their titles and accomplishments, Gaspard led Delani down the steps and across the room toward Empress Celene. As he watched her go, Cullen knew that tonight would be remembered by all of Orlais, no matter how it went. The dust from his bones would be forgotten long before tales of Delani’s beauty were no longer regarded as legendary.

So enthralled was he by his elven lover that he nearly didn't hear his name being announced. With militant steps ingrained into him by years of service to the Chantry, Cullen followed the path that would take him before the Empress. Empress Celene was ageless in her beauty and not even she could compare to the woman he loved. Bowing at his middle, Cullen thanked the Empress for having the Inquisition, and himself, in attendance.

After the Inquisition was announced the festivities started anew. Cullen found his place by a window that had the best view of the ball room, where he could see all the entrances and find any possible threats. It appeared that nothing devious was going on at the moment, though it was hard to tell with Orlesians.

It didn’t take long for Cullen to locate Delani in the crowd, as though his gaze was drawn to her by some unseen force. She was making her rounds, stopping to speak with nobles with a smile on her lips that was polite and welcoming, it took Cullen’s trained eyes to see the venom underneath. Delani would play their Game and she would hold her own with a fierceness that they would not soon forget.

Show them no mercy, my huntress, thought Cullen, fighting the smile from his lips. Maker, he loved that woman. His attention was pulled from Delani when two young women stepped up to Cullen. Their smiles were large under their half masks, and their gowns were of quality make. Cullen didn’t need to be either a nobleman or Orlesian to know that they came from old money. The smile he forced onto his lips in greeting was wary.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said, hoping that it would be enough to send them on their way. Unfortunately it wasn’t.

“Commander Cullen,” the braver of the two girl started, causing her friend to giggle. “Legend of your prowess as a warrior is a popular topic of conversation here in Orlais. We were hoping that you would regale us with a war story.”

Her friend peeped in with the suggestion, “Perhaps something from your time at the Circle in Kirkwall.”

Looking from one girl to the next, Cullen cleared his throat before declining as politely as he could. “There is not much to tell, I’m afraid.”

“Then how about you tell us whether or  not there is someone waiting for you there,” another voice proposed, its owner stepping into the conversation. The woman’s eyes were like that of a falcon who had just spotted its dinner.

Cullen looked around at the growing number of noblewomen standing around him, and fought the urge to flee for this life. He held his ground instead. This was the location with the best view women wanted to discuss his romantic availability.

Awkwardly clearing his throat, he answered, “No, there is no one waiting for me in Kirkwall.”

A man standing to his right then inquired after his marital status, and Cullen ground his molars as he felt his patience ebbing. Tonight was going to be a long night. Knowing better than to outright ignore the group growing around him, he forced himself to answer the question. “Not yet, but I am already taken.”

It was not enough to dissuade the man’s interest. “Still single then?”

Hardly, Cullen wanted to reply. He moved his attention from the sharks encircling him and back onto the ballroom. This was to be how his night progressed, and he knew it. As Delani played The Game, searched for assassins, and helped decide the fate of a nation, he would be stuck in this spot with little else to do than pray to the Maker that no harm came to her that evening. Cullen resigned himself to his fate.

Focus divided between declining advances of his Orlesian pursuers and anticipating the evening going awry, when Delani had finally made her way around the ballroom to speak with him she was a much anticipated distraction. Immediately Cullen perked up, a smile wanting to take shape on his lips as he watched her approach.

The group surrounding him noticed the change in his demeanor and sought out the source. When they noticed Delani’s approach it was with distasted murmurs, and incredulous head shakes. The night was still young, and Delani had not quite earned the court’s favor; Cullen could now fully appreciate how ridiculous a concept that was. She was present to save their monarch and still it was she who needed to garner their favor.

When she stepped into the circle around him Cullen turned his focus onto Delani, elated for the moment of reprieve. “Inquisitor,” he stated, trying to maintain an air of professionalism even if all he wanted was to whisk her away from all this Orlesian nonsense. “Did you need something?”

Sea green eyes flashed behind her golden mask. They shined with amusement as she glanced at the nobles encompassing them. When her gaze returned to Cullen it was with the observation, “You’ve attracted a following, Commander.” She noticed him shift his weight uncomfortably, and a teasing smile threatened to take her lips. “Who are these people?”

Irritated by the unwanted attention, Cullen groused, “I don’t know,” and scanned the masked faces around them, pretending not to eavesdrop on their conversation. “But they won’t leave me alone.”

A fluttering laugh sounded from Delani, the sound ringing with genuine amusement. Placing a hand on Cullen’s forearm, she guessed, “Not enjoying the attention then?”

“Hardly,” he muttered, feeling heat rise onto his cheeks. Cullen allowed himself to take in the sight of Delani in all of her masqueraded glory. She was a creature so divine, and Cullen would never understand how he had managed to find a place in her heart. A small smile unearthed across his lips unbidden, and Cullen added, “Anyway yours—“ he cleared his throat before correcting his volume so that the whole room might not hear his statement. “Yours is the only attention worth having.”

Delani looked pleased by his statement, but before she could reply her attention was pulled toward a group of noblewomen beckoning her from across the way. Giving Cullen a departing smile, she asked him to, “Save a dance for me, Commander,” and left him to the vultures still circling him.

She was gone before he could explain to her his lack of dancing skills. Cullen’s gaze chased after her before being pulled back by the Orlesians amassing around him. Now that they had seen him interact with Delani they seemed more desperate for his attention than they had been earlier. It was going to be a long night.

Just as he feared, the evening seemed to drag on for hours. The longer Cullen spent surrounded by chattering nobles the more disgusted he became with the lot of them. After Delani’s appearance they had started to discuss the societal placement of elves in Orlais. Most of them begrudged Delani for her status and title, feeling that she was unworthy of it. It was a notion that Cullen was quick to correct, not caring about social etiquette or playing their Game.

“That elf is the only reason that the Exalted Plains are traversable,” he reminded them, his tone full of annoyance at their flippancy and haughtiness. With narrowed eyes, Cullen stated, “She was the one to stop the conflict between the mages and the Templars. She was the only one to act when the rest of the world watched as everything fell to pieces around us. She is the only one that can seal the Breach and end this war against the Venatori. I think she has earned more from you than your snide comments about her ears and heritage.”

Silence was their only rejoinder for some time. Offended by Cullen’s tone, some of the nobles even left the circle. The braver ones that stayed behind were quick to change their tune when it came to Delani and her place in their society.

“Of course, Commander,” one of the noblemen said. “We have much to thank the Inquisition for.”

Cullen pinned him with an icy glare. Voice low and unyielding, he corrected him. “Not the Inquisition, the Inquisitor.”

Again he said, “Of course,” amending his earlier statement. “The Inquisitor.”

Satisfied that he would hear no more on the topic, Cullen returned to ignoring the whole lot of them. As the night progressed he saw less and less of Delani, though word of her proficiency in The Game reached even his ears. At first it had been spoken with the pretentiousness of adults discussing a child, but with time their tones changed to ones of surprised admiration.

Steadily Delani had gone from “that elf woman” to her rightful, “Inquisitor Lady Lavellan.” As rarely as he had seen her throughout the evening, it was clear to see that she had been very busy winning over the court which she regarded with such resentment. At one point Cullen found himself swarmed by a handful of palace guards, requesting to hear story after story of hard fought battles. When they explained that they’d been sent his way by Delani herself, Cullen recounted whatever war story they asked for. She had sent them to him for a reason and, even if Cullen could not stay at her side, he would do whatever he could to make the evening easier for her.

It felt like ages before the evening met its end. Delani danced with Duchess Florianne and investigated parts of the palace to which she shouldn’t have had access to. Word of fighting had reached his ears, and worry filled him at the thought of the danger that Delani had found herself in. The Winter Palace was a sea of sharks, and now there was literal blood in the water. A feeding frenzy was to follow suit and, it did not matter how well Cullen knew that she could handle herself, he was concerned that the night might not end in Delani’s favor.

The decision to save Empress Celene’s life had been Delani’s first and only consideration. Though he felt more inclined to support Grand Duke Gaspard, Cullen knew the reasoning behind her decision. They had come to the ball to save the Empress’ life. To leave her to die now was to turn a blind eye to her responsibilities, and turn her back on her word. After ousting the Duchess in front of the entire court Delani had been swept into the peace talks to help decide what fate befell the remaining two conspirators.

Celebrations recommenced after word of the impending Duke’s execution, and the reunion of the Empress with her elven lover had spread through the court. After the peace talks had met their end Delani had made herself scarce. Noble after noble had come up to Cullen, asking after her, hoping for the chance to congratulate her on all of her successes in person. Answering that he did not know where Delani was for the last time, Cullen decided to locate his beloved. If she was hiding, he wanted to stow away with her.

He approached the open balcony doors the same time as the Empress’ arcane advisor stepped back into the ballroom. A hint of recognition registered at the sight of her, but Cullen dismissed the thought. The apostate was not his concern. At the moment the only thing he cared for was making sure that Delani was alright.

Still in the breathtaking dress she had arrived in, Delani’s back muscles were rigid as she leaned over the banister and stared down at the gardens below. A smile stretched over his lips at the sight of her, alone at last, safe and sound after a night of ranging levels of excitement. And finally there was no one to listen in on them as they spoke. Cullen fully intended to take advantage of the privacy.

“There you are,” he said as he approached her, announcing himself as to not startle her with the suddenness of his appearance. Delani glanced over her shoulder at him and offered a weak smile in welcome. She had taken her mask off, revealing the artistry that had went into her makeup. Her features glittered with gold and bronze, her eyes shining radiantly despite how tired she looked.

As he came to stand beside her, he leaned his elbow against the banister and smiled at Delani. Her eyes caught and reflected the evening lights, shining like a cat’s before she looked away. She was exhausted, and Cullen couldn’t blame her. “Everyone is looking for you,” he informed her, bumping his shoulder against hers before peering down at her to catch the smirk playing with the edges of her mouth.

“Let them,” she replied lifting a hand to rub her face, but stopping when the memory of her dolled up features resurfaced. Sighing, Delani moved until she had herself pressed to Cullen’s side and he happily shielded her within his embrace. She pressed her cheek against his chest and said, “I’ve gotten my fill of The Game for one evening. I think I’ve earned a moment of peace.”

Cullen made a noise of agreement, rubbing Delani’s bare back and feeling her warmth burning under his touch. Allowing his smile to grow, he commented, “You do realize that the Orlesian court has fallen under your spell, don’t you?”

Without looking up at him, she laughed against his dress attire. “How couldn’t they,” inquired Delani. “I am not sure if you’ve noticed, Commander, but I happen to be incredibly charming.”

He could not help but laugh before conceding, “I have noticed.” His tone turned slightly teasing when he added, “And I’m not the only one. I wouldn’t be surprised if Josephine expects you to be more active in dealing with the nobles now that you’ve shone such proficiency in The Game.”

“Take it back, Cullen,” Delani gasped in offense and lightly swatted his chest. She glared up at him and demanded him to, “Take it back and never speak of it again.”

“When you said that there was nothing that you couldn’t do—“

She swatted his chest again to stop his teasing in its tracks, and Cullen pretended as though her attack had pained him. “Cullen,” she groused even though her words were tilted with a giggle. “I said never again.” The sound of her laughter made his grin grow. That was the sound that he’d been wanting to hear; the sight of her smile was what he’d wanted to see.

Smiling down at her, Cullen raised his hand to her cheek and traced the branches of her vallaslin with his thumb. Quietly he confessed, “I know it seems foolish, but I was worried for you tonight, ma atishan.”

Delani raised her hand to his and drew circles on the back of his hand. An adoring smile curled her lips as she looked up at him. “You weren’t the only one,” she reminded him with a laugh. “Josephine was dancing the razor’s edge of a panic attack the entire night. I’m just lucky that I did not ruin her pretty dress.”

Gaze moving down to the dress in question, Cullen arched an eyebrow and easily agreed, “That is a lovely gown, my lady.” His tone was low, gravely, telling of the desires the dress stirred inside of him.

Smile turning foxy in nature, Delani rebutted, “Wouldn’t you prefer it off, Commander?”

A rumble vibrated deep in his chest as the image of her stark naked body fell behind his eyes. His nostrils flared when he sucked in a calming breath. The sound of the orchestra starting a new song helped to keep him anchored away from the heat growing inside of his gut. The way Delani’s eyes flashed with mischief was hard to resist, and he wouldn’t be able to fight it for long, but for now there was something else he wanted to do.

“We will get you out of that gown, Inquisitor,” he promised, the heat in his veins burning in his voice. Pushing himself off of the banister, Cullen walked to the center of the balcony and said, “But first, I may never have another chance like this; so I must ask…”

He bowed himself at his middle and held his hand out to her. He had seen her dance with Duchess Florianne, and knew that her skills were already vastly superior to his. But she had asked for a dance, and he would not deny her one. With a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, he asked, “May I have this dance?”

Delani grinned, delighted, and happily placed her hand in his. “This your idea of foreplay, Commander?”

Making a choked sound, Cullen fought back his laugh as they both fell into the steps of the dance. With his hand on her waist and the other holding hers, Cullen led them through the paces with a grin on his lips and desire burning in his chest.

Shaking his head, he answered, “Actually, my lady, it was an attempt at romance.” Cullen pulled her more tightly to his chest and leaned down so that he could nuzzle her ear. Huskily he whispered, “The foreplay will come soon enough,” and grinned at the feeling of Delani shuddering against him.

The night had been a long and successful one. Delani was already aglow in the light of victory, now he wanted to see her burn with the flames of desire for him. It was not over yet. He would get her out of that dress and into his bed before the night met its end.

Chapter Text

Cassandra and Leliana were both candidates for the next Divine. Either one or the other could potentially sit on the sunburst throne, and it was up to Delani to sponsor one of them. How did Delani make that kind of decision. She wasn’t even Andrastian. Perhaps if she selected the candidate most malleable to her plans as Inquisitor… no, that didn’t feel right. Malleable wasn’t even an adjective that could be used to describe either Leliana or Cassandra. She would have to talk to them on the subject.

“—Boss.”

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of Bull’s voice. The qunari was seated across the table with Dorian snuggly pulled to his side. They were both staring at her expectantly, and Dorian had a lopsided smirk adorned under his immaculately trimmed mustache.

“I don’t think she heard a single thing I just said, Amatus. To think that my eloquence went completely beyond her notice, appalling.” The mage shook his head in sardonic disappointment.

Iron Bull chuckled deep in his chest and squeezed Dorian to his side. Without replying to his  lover’s complaint, Bull returned his gaze to Delani and wondered, “Everything alright, Boss? You seem distracted.”

Shaking her head, Delani leaned back in her seat and held her ale filled goblet between her hands. With a sigh she confessed, “I just have a lot on my mind.” Now that the Empress was safe Corypheus was plotting his next move. He was wreaking havoc in the Arbor wilds, searching for something. What it was, she hadn’t the slightest idea. Delani would have to convene with her advisors to try and figure it out.

And that wasn’t even the only thing on her plate. Word had arrived from Wycome. Her clan was going to stay a while to help the city’s citizens recover from the red lyrium incident. Her mother had assured her that all was well, and not to worry, but the tone of her message had placed Delani on edge. Instinct was telling her that the clan should move on. But Delani trusted her mother’s instincts as much as she did her own. If Keeper Milathara didn’t see cause to move the caravan, it was no longer Delani’s place to argue with her.

A frown tugged at Delani’s lips. She could no longer sit and wait for direction to come to her. Idleness hadn’t helped her at all so far, and Skyhold’s walls provided no answers. Delani needed to move and she needed to be doing something. Dallying in the tavern with Dorian and Bull wasn’t the solution to her problem. So what was?

Again she was ripped from her mind by the concern in the Iron Bull’s voice. “—Boss. Damn, Boss, you’re really out of it today, aren’t you?”

Without acknowledging his question she asked them both, “Do you want to go on a supply run?”

Where Iron Bull’s eyes lit up Dorian’s darkened. With a dispassionate set to his features, the mage wondered, “What kind of supply run? What do you need that we do not have here?”

Delani shrugged. She’d pulled this run out of her ass, she wasn’t prepared to be questioned about it. “I don’t know,” she waved off his challenging expression before half heartedly supplying, “Drakestone?”

Iron Bull shot his human lover a toying glance before pleading Delani’s case. “The woman has a lot on her mind, Kadan. If she wants to go on a supply run it is our duty, as her friends, to have her back.”

With a roll of his eyes, Dorian shook his head and held Delani’s gaze. There was a smirk on his lips and laughter in his eyes when he said, “How about I, as your friend, go ahead and collect your usual ‘we’re going to fuck around in the Hinterlands’ team?”

She offered Dorian her most innocent smile and agreed to his suggestion. “Would you please?” She batted her eyelashes at him and snickered when he shook his head again in reply. When the man stood up, placed a kiss on the Iron Bull’s temple, and started for the door, she shouted after him, “Thank you,” only for him to toss a dismissive wave over his shoulder in response.

Moving her gaze back onto the qunari warrior Delani immediately recognized the look on the hulking man’s face. Before she could groan, he started, “You’ve been putting it off for ages, Boss. You said that the next time we were there we would handle her.”

Delani buried her face in her hands and groaned. She’d promised him. Why had she gone and done that? She knew why, she wanted to fight her just as badly as he did. But the last time she’d wandered into that part of the Hinterlands Delani had almost all of her hairs singed right off. As sure as she was that she could face the beast, because she’d already faced several others, she was simply in no hurry to run from a good fight with her tail tucked between her legs again.

She peeked between her fingers to find Bull pouting at her. Another groan sounded before she slapped her hands on the table top and loudly relented. “Fine. We’ll fight the damn dragon.”

Bull punched the air in victory, a huge grin bright on his face. “You won’t regret it,” he said before slamming both fists on the table dividing them like a judge’s gavel. The matter was settled. Today they were going to slay a dragon. He pushed himself out from his seat and started for the part of the tavern he had claimed as his own.

“I have to go get my shit together,” he explained as he left her at the table. “Meet you at the stables.”

Watching him leave, she called after him with a teasing, “Don’t take too long or we’ll leave without you.”

She lifted herself out of her seat as well. If they were leaving for the Hinterlands it would be best for them to leave soon. This distraction wasn’t supposed to turn into a dragon hunt, but now that it had she wanted to at least try to be back either by the end of the night or early the next morning. If anyone was going to complain about the time crunch she was going to point all malcontents in Bull’s direction. As much as she loved adventuring, she still had her duties as Inquisitor to attend to. Josephine would kill her if she went out on a week long excursion without having completed her Inquisitorially obligations.

First she would get her armor and weapons together, then she would let Cullen know that she would be gone for the rest of the evening. The last thing she wanted was for her handsome human to wait up all night for her. After that, she and her companions were going hunting. There was a problem dragon in the Hinterlands, and she was the solution.

“My clan has made contact with these Dalish before, Commander,” Loranil explained, arms crossed in front of his chest and brows knitted together in serious contemplation. “They’ve little to no interaction with humans, as the Arbor Wilds provide all that they need and trade is unnecessary.”

The young elf stood in front of Cullen’s desk, summoned to give council as to how the Inquisition’s forces should proceed into the southern wilds. His thick brown hair was combed out of his face, and his vallaslin, commemorative of his goddess Andruil, brought out the hopeful shine in his hazel eyes. In the few weeks since Delani had recruited him as an agent of the Inquisition he had proven himself to be invaluable.

There were a few people against the faith that Cullen placed in the elf. Knight-Captain Riley disapproved with silent hesitance whenever Cullen would request Loranil’s opinion on a matter, and still Cullen would not deny the young hunter more chances to prove himself an asset to the Inquisition. The Hero of Ferelden had been younger than Loranil when she saved the nation from the Blight, and Delani had been around his age when she’d assumed her father’s role within her clan. His age was meaningless. Experience would come with time but valor, loyalty, bravery, and selflessness weren’t things that could be taught.

Hazel eyes held Cullen’s gaze, a severity in them that cautioned Cullen to be sure of his next steps, whatever they might be, before taking them. “The Venatori decimate our most sacred ground and Dalish hunters are dying trying to defend it. Our appearance will not be welcomed.”

Loranil’s use of “our” instead of “your” in regards to the Inquisition did not go beyond Cullen’s notice. Tapping his knuckles on the surface of his desk, he wondered, “What would you suggest?”

The young man pursed his lips and took a moment to seriously consider Cullen’s question. Sighing through his nose, Loranil supplied, “A small group of Inquisition soldiers won’t be viewed as a threat, and will be more likely to at least have words with the Arbor’s Dalish. If we can explain to them that we intend to fight the Venatori, and want to cause as little damage to their home as possible, they might be more cooperative. They might not join us, but they’ll also be less likely to stand in our way.”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Cullen set his jaw as he considered his options. Whatever Corypheus was up to in the Arbor Wilds, it was with no regard for the Dalish or what they held sacred. They fought him as best they could, but only a force as great as the Inquisition would truly pose a challenge to the Tevinter abomination.

Delani would balk at the thought of hurting Dalish lives, even if he tried to label it as unavoidable. If there was a way that the Inquisition could move through the Arbor Wilds without having to take a Dalish life, Cullen would see that they made whatever efforts were necessary.

Cullen finally broke his silence with the instructions, “You will lead a handful of men into the Wilds to speak with the Keeper on our behalf.”

Surprise widened the young man’s features. The color drained from his face and Loranil coughed out a confused, “Me?”

“You,” Cullen confirmed with a curt nod. “Our desires will most likely be better received if spoken by one of their own people. Plus, you know how to properly navigate through the Wilds. A small group will go unnoticed by the Venatori, and will be able to reach the Dalish in time to see if an agreement or alliance can be made.”

The hunter did not react right away. He stood before Cullen’s desk, working his jaw as he chewed over Cullen’s instructions. After a moment, his nostrils flared and he rolled his shoulders back. Standing straight and with a pride that Cullen easily associated with the Dalish people, Loranil asked, “Will your men follow the instructions of an elf?”

A single brow arched in question and Cullen quietly regarded the young man across from him before slowly replying, “My men will do as they are told, regardless of the race of the person who leads them.” Anger started to brew inside of him and Cullen sucked in a deep breath to tamper it down. His lips thinned dangerously before he calmly asked, “Have you received much adversity since joining the Inquisition, Loranil?”

If he had Cullen wanted to know. He wanted names. If a single one of his men, or anyone else who called Skyhold home, had dared to haze the hunter simply because of his heritage or race they would have words with Cullen. He thought that the Inquisition was past the small mindedness of racism or bigotry. If that was no longer the case he wanted to know immediately so that he could deal with the matter himself.

“No,” the elf’s thick eyebrows were furrowed with wariness and confusion.

Blinking hard, Cullen was taken aback by the other man’s answer. If Loranil hadn’t received adversity then he didn’t understand what the problem was. “Then I’m afraid that I am not following your concerns on the matter.”

With a shake of his head, Loranil combed his fingers through his medium length hair as he searched for the words that would explain his meaning to Cullen. Staring at Cullen with serious eyes, Loranil asked, “Do you know how many times I’ve been called ‘knife ear’ since joining the Inquisition?”

When Cullen raised an eyebrow the elf answered his own question. “Not once. Ever since I first stepped foot on this Fortress’s grounds I’ve been treated with nothing but respect.”

“You almost sound disappointed by that fact,” Cullen observed, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. It was a relief that he would not have to shake sense into anyone, neither his men or any others who found safety behind Skyhold’s walls. To know that they were not regressing back into old pitfalls of ignorance was to see progress being made one person at a time.

The young man shook his head again. “Not disappointed,” Loranil countered. “Surprised. Anywhere else and I would have been seen as an outsider. No matter what I did or how hard I worked I would never be welcomed as anything more than another knife ear. And yet here people call me by my name. The cooks and the common people, human people, are all singing Dalish nursery rhymes. Children are playing with carved idols of the pantheon. You seek me out for advice and then place me in charge of your men. I’m not treated like an elf, I’m treated like a person. It is a concept that is foreign to me.”

Cullen smiled, proud of the social advances that the Inquisition had made. If it could be done within their ranks and in their fortress then that meant that it was possible for the rest of Thedas to follow their example.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Cullen fought back his grin and supplied, “I suppose that you can blame our receptiveness on Lady Lavellan. She has made great strides in making sure that all feel welcome within this fortress and among our people.”

Loranil nodded. “The Inquisitor is spoken of with great respect and admiration among the Inquisition’s people. To think that one of my people would be leading a force as great as the Inquisition, and be called the Herald of Andraste, it is an idea that is still hard to grasp.”

“Not only for you,” Cullen replied, remembering all the times that his love had bristled at being called Herald. She had finally embraced it as necessary and was using her title to broker change. With Delani’s influence both Ferelden and Orlais would be reeducated in regards to the treatment of elves. But first they had to deal with Corypheus.

Returning them to the purpose of their conversation, Cullen stated, “Prepare yourself to set out by first light tomorrow. I would like to know where the Dalish stand before the week’s end.”

The young man bowed his head and crossed his fist over his heart in acknowledgment of Cullen’s orders. “Ma nuvinen, Commander.”

Cullen nodded and replied, “Ma serannas, Loranil. Dirath shiral.”

A small smile played on the elf’s lips before he took his leave. The door opened before he reached it and in sauntered Dorian, chessboard in hand. Loranil and the mage exchanged passing nods as one exited and the other entered Cullen’s office.

With the door shut behind him, Dorian strode over to Cullen’s desk and placed the chessboard between them. There was a mischievous glint in Dorian’s grey eyes that was also playing on his lips when he prompted, “Are you up for a game, Commander?”

Shaking his head, Cullen schooled his features to remain serious as he declined his friend’s offer. “I have work to do, Dorian. Perhaps another time.”

The mage waved off Cullen’s refusal as though it were a swarm of gnats. “Nonsense,” he argued. “All you have are excuses and I will hear none of them.”

When Cullen’s eyebrows knitted in challenge, Dorian resorted to pouting. “One game, that’s all I ask. And then I will leave you to your boring work.”

Letting out a long and weighted breath, Cullen sat down in his chair and rubbed his brow. He would not be able to talk his way out of a game with Dorian. The time he would waste arguing with the mage would amount to the length of one of their games, anyhow. He held the other man’s gaze and surrendered with a conceding, “One game.”

Elated that he had gotten his way, Dorian grinned and started to set up the pieces on the board. “We’ll start with one game and then see how we feel by the end of it.”

Cullen shook his head and rolled his eyes. It came as no surprise that Dorian would try to stretch the limits of Cullen’s patience and resolve. This was precisely the reason why Cullen found himself saying no to the mage so often. Give the man an inch and he would want a mile.

He watched as Dorian set up the final pieces before making the first move. It was a bold move, the intent on drawing a reaction equally as bold, instead Cullen slid his pawn up a space and smiled at the sound of Dorian scoffing in disapproval. As the other man considered his next move, Cullen asked, “Why aren’t you with Delani and the others?”

His gaze was still on the board when he answered with a shrug. “I am not one to meander through the wilderness without cause or purpose, Commander.” Moving another piece, he finished, “If I’m going to get my boots dirty, it’s going to be for a damn good reason.”

Arching his eyebrow, Cullen admitted, “Delani said that she was going on a supply run.” He moved a piece and picked up one of Dorian’s pawns. He was sacrificing his piece for the sake of speeding along their game. He had work to get to, and he would prefer to not have to work well into the night in order to see it finished.

“Yes,” Dorian said with a note of sarcasm. With air quotes he repeated, “Supply run. More like the Inquisitor has too much on her mind and needed a distraction to help her think.”

Under his breath, he murmured, “If I know Bull he probably convinced her to take on that blasted dragon.”

Cullen smiled softly. Dorian knew his lover well. Before leaving for the Hinterlands Delani had admitted that she would be dealing with the dragon there. She was fairly confident that she and her companions were prepared enough to handle the beast without too much trouble. The thought of Delani placing herself in harms way never failed to put Cullen on edge, but he knew better than to try and stop her. Delani’s spirit was a wild one and she’d been cooped up behind Skyhold’s tall walls long enough. Once the dragon was dealt with her itch for adventure would be satiated and she’d return to his arms, at least until he had to send her off into danger again.

Having fallen silent by thoughts of a war that felt like it might never end, and the knowledge that as long as it raged Delani would stand at point in facing that danger, Dorian casually broke the quiet that had befallen Cullen’s office.

“Speaking of our fearless, dragon hunting leader,” Dorian started, moving another piece on the board before leaning back in his seat and twirling his mustache as he regarded Cullen. “The Inquisitor seemed rather distracted today. She didn’t hear a single word of my story about the time that my father had his robes blown up by my five year old cousin in front of the Black Divine.”

Cullen’s gaze was on the board when he hummed sympathetically. Picking up his bishop he moved across the board before setting the piece down. He fought the smirk from his lips, anticipating Dorian’s next move to be an illegal one, and prepared to defeat the mage regardless of the fact.

Looking up to meet Dorian’s grey eyes, Cullen offered the other man a smirk and replied, “I’m sure it was a very compelling story, Master Pavus.”

“It was!” Dorian insisted, also smirking. He didn’t move right away, instead he inspected the pieces and contemplated how to proceed. With his gaze downcast, the mage’s smile grew. “If you had seen my father’s face... He was more red than Delani’s hair, it was glorious.”

When Cullen snorted in amusement Dorian picked up his piece and made his move, discretely stealing an extra space that would have gone unnoticed by a less experienced player. Assured that his cheating had gone beyond Cullen’s attention, Dorian leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers as he regarded the other man with a smile on his lips. His overconfidence was misplaced and would see him defeated before the hour’s end.

His smile fell a bit when he returned to his earlier observation and wondered, “Do you know what the cause is behind Lady Lavellan’s outrageous disinterest in my enthralling and tasteful tales of Tevinter?”

Lips twisting as he considered both Dorian’s question and his next move, Cullen scraped his nails over the scruff lining his jaw. Moving his knight into position, he plucked Dorian’s rook from the board and added it to his growing encampment of prisoners of war. “It could be a number of things,” he supplied, feeling his heart grow heavy with the burdens placed upon Delani’s shoulders by the Inquisition. “Her duties, her concern for her clan, or perhaps your stories aren’t as great as you claim them to be.”

Offended, Dorian gasped and pressed a hand to his chest. “You take that back, Commander.” Cullen chuckled at the other man’s dramatic reaction and a grin spread over Dorian’s mouth. Tugging on the patch of hair under his bottom lip, Dorian inspected the board as he mused, “I suppose the role of Inquisitor can be a demanding one. I do not envy her position.”

Cullen hummed in agreement, watching as Dorian moved across the board. His eyes were on the chess pieces when he replied, “I just wish that there was more that I could do for her,” then strategically placed his bishop in proximity to Dorian’s queen.

Devilish smirk twisting his lips, Cullen almost thought that the shadow darkening in Dorian’s eyes was because he was moving his queen to take Cullen’s bishop, but then his voice was a challenging purr when he next spoke. “Have the both of you tried rope play before?”

Blood immediately rushed into Cullen’s features as he gaped at his friend. Eyes wide with shock, it took a moment for Cullen to blink himself back into focus. He coughed the surprise from his throat before rubbing the heat from the back of his neck. Wincing at the very thought of discussing this with Dorian, Cullen remained stubbornly quiet as he abducted Dorian’s queen from the board and moved her to stand with her captured subjects.

A hearty laugh sounded from Dorian. The shine in his grey eyes was bright with amusement at how Cullen had reacted to his question. Grinning in delight, Dorian pressed the matter forward, completely disregarding how badly Cullen wanted him to drop it entirely. “Come now, Commander, think about it.” His mischievous simper grew. “There’s nothing quite like being strung up like a boar to make one happily forfeit control to another.”

Dorian shrugged. “It can be freeing,” he stated before moving another piece on the board.

Wincing at their current topic of conversation, Cullen immediately regretted asking, “Speaking from experience, are you?”

The other man chuckled, his grin firmly rooted on his lips as he replied, “I admit that Bull is quite prolific when it comes to easing tensions before they get too tight.”

“This I do not need to hear.” He grimaced, refocusing on the game so that he might distract his mind from conjuring up visuals of the illicit acts Dorian was describing.

“Don’t you though?” Dorian challenged him with a bark of laughter. His grey eyes flashed in taunting before he straightened his features into a diluted imitation of seriousness. “Your woman is tense, Commander. Perhaps the time has come for you to unwind her.”

Cullen pressed the game onward and shook his head. He couldn’t help his smirk when he replied with a confident, “I assure you that I do not need your help in that department, Dorian.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Dorian conceded with a grin. “But that doesn’t mean that trying something new won’t wield welcome results.” Moving his next piece on the board, the mage insisted for Cullen to hear him out. “It’s about more than unwinding and handing control over to your partner, Commander. It’s about trust. You trust your partner to respect you and your body, you trust them to attend to your needs and for them to allow you to attend to theirs.”

Dorian’s smile turned encouraging as he said, “It’s an intimacy like you’ve never experienced.” He shrugged again and added, “I suggest you try it at least once.”

Humming in consideration, Cullen contemplated the board as he mulled over Dorian’s suggestion. He knew that Delani was under a lot of stress, and it was not a burden that she easily shared, not even with him. Perhaps the Tevinter was on to something. If Cullen could physically show Delani how much she trusted him with her body then perhaps she would be more willing to trust him with her worries as well.

He moved his knight into position and leaned back in his seat with an exhaled, “Check mate.”

Confused, Dorian blinked and returned his attention to the board between them. Shaking his head, the mage wrinkled his nose in disappointed amusement and confessed, “I thought I had you that time.”

Smiling crookedly at his friend, Cullen mused, “I wonder if your game would be better or worse if you didn’t resort to cheating.”

A shameless chortle burst out from Dorian who shrugged in reply. “I suppose we’ll never know.” He leaned forward with a hopeful glint in his eyes as he prompted, “That is, of course, unless you are up for another round? Best two out of three?”

“If you’re in the mood for a beating you’ll have take that up with the Iron Bull,” Cullen rebuked with a grin. When the other man rolled his eyes and smirked devilishly, he waved for Dorian to collect the chessboard and the pieces and leave his office. “Now if you would please allow me to get back to my work, it would be much appreciated.”

Sighing theatrically at being so completely dismissed, Dorian started to pick up the pieces and collected the board from Cullen’s desk. He stood from his seat and grinned down at Cullen as he tucked the checkered board under his arm. “If you finish with your work before Delani and the others make it back, you can find me at the Tavern. Krem knows a drinking game that will put you on your ass faster than you can say I have work to do, Dorian, perhaps another time.”

Cullen chuckled. “I will keep that in mind.”

The quirk at the corner of Dorian’s mouth was taunting. “Among other things, I’m sure,” he commented before turning for the door and leaving Cullen’s office. He turned back to face Cullen with the instructions, “Don’t work too hard, Commander. You’re making some of us look bad,” before shutting the door behind him and leaving Cullen alone in his office.

He stared at the door for a moment before smiling to himself and sinking further down in his seat. Dragging a hand down his face, Cullen groaned before massaging the tension from the back of his neck. With a glance at all of the parchment that lay scattered over his desk in organized chaos, he estimated that he might be able to finish these reports before sun down. After that there was still the matter of getting together with Captain Ophelia about sending a contingent of men with Loranil into the Arbor Wilds.

Combing his fingers through his hair, Cullen’s gaze fell on the carved halla and lion statuettes decorating the surface of his desk. A smile crept across his lips as he stared at them, a warmth filling his chest at the thought of the woman who had made them for him. Delani was an artist. Give her a hunk of wood and a carving knife and the woman could carve the shape of anything into the unsuspecting block. He plucked the carved lion off of the surface of his desk and traced the designs ingrained into the wood with his fingertips. The little beast was a fearsome thing, its mouth agape in a mighty roar, and Cullen couldn’t help but marvel at the quality of the craftsmanship

Their relationship did not lack in trust or communication. They were open and honest with each other, hoping to avoid misunderstandings whenever possible. Still there were times when Cullen felt that she did not share everything with him, as though she were hoping to spare him the burden of the full weight of her role as Inquisitor. And Cullen couldn’t blame her for it, because it was something he was also guilty of when it came to his lyrium withdrawals. He was aware of her stress, and she was aware of his pain, and they worked together to address them.

But Cullen wanted more.

He wanted to see for himself that Delani trusted him with all that she was. He wanted to feel her open up to him, body and soul, and eagerly give herself over to his loving hands. Cullen trusted Delani as much as he loved her, and he knew that she felt the same, but there was something oddly satisfying about being able to witness that trust first hand.

Dorian might have been on to something with his suggestion, but that was a thought that Cullen didn’t have time to ponder.

There was still much work to be done and his game of chess with Dorian had taken up enough of it already. If he wanted to turn in for the night at a reasonable hour he needed to get back to it now. Pushing himself back up with a groan, Cullen set the lion back down on his desk and started to tending the parchment littering the mahogany surface. He needed to turn his mind from these distracting thoughts, and work seemed the most promising solution.

Delani rubbed the back of her neck as she made her way through the quiet Keep. The hour was late and the main hall was empty of the nobles that typically loitered about, gossiping idly about whatever nonsense had sent their tongues wagging this week. It was strange walking down the long and spacious hall when there was no one awake to occupy it. The room felt bigger, colder too, absent the life that filled it during the day.

Her hair was still damp from her recent bath. She and her companions had returned from the Hinterlands late into the night, and the orange glow coming from Cullen’s office was evidence enough that her lover was still hard at work. Rolling her eyes at the thought, Delani couldn’t help the smile that started to unfurl across her lips. Even though she’d told him not to wait up for her, a part of her was glad that he was still awake. Pulling him away from his work was a guilty pleasure of hers that she delighted in not nearly enough.

The ‘supply run’ to the Hinterlands had been an easy enough distraction. As soon as they’d made it to the expansive area she and her companions had headed straight for the dragon’s lair. The beast and her dragonlings stood no chance against Delani and the others. If anything the fight was somewhat anticlimactic when compared to the other dragons they’d faced. She didn’t have it in her to feel bad about how long she had put off facing the beast. Her experience in dragon hunting had made the fight a quick one, and that had meant that she was able to return to Skyhold before one day bled into the next.

As exhausted as she and her companions were from traveling all day, fighting a dragon, and then backtracking well into the night, it came as no surprise to Delani when she found Solas snoring softly on sofa as he slumbered. His magic had been an asset in facing the dragon, and he was understandably spent after the day they’d had. She cut through the rotunda as quietly as she could and soundlessly shut the door behind her as she stepped out onto the ramparts.

Quickly cutting across the catwalk to Cullen’s office, when she stepped up to the door the muffled sound of Cullen’s voice vibrated through the heavy wood and iron slab that divided them. He still had soldiers with him? Those poor souls. Cracking open the door, Delani slipped into Cullen’s office as silently as she could manage and coaxed the door shut with the quietest of clicks.

The atmosphere in the office was heavy with exhaustion. The soldiers receiving Cullen’s orders were drowsy, appearing to have just woken up, perhaps just starting their rotation for the evening. As Delani pressed herself to the cool stone wall on the far end of the room, she watched the man she loved thrive in his element. Cullen was a leader, beloved by all who served under him. As tired as these soldiers were it was still clear to see that any one of them would follow the Commander to the Void if he asked them to. It was a sight that brought a smile onto her lips.

“—Rylan’s men will monitor the situation,” said Cullen, his tone heavy with the weight of his title and the authority that came with it. He was leaning forward on his desk, his weight supported on his knuckles as he examined the soldiers surrounding his desk. Too focused on the late hour —or was it early morning— debriefing, he had yet to notice Delani standing at the far end of the room, admiring him as he worked.

One of his soldiers replied with a faithful, “Yes Sir. We’ll begin preparations at once.”

Cullen nodded in acceptance of her acknowledgement before picking up a piece of parchment from his desk, quickly skimming it over, and handing it off to one of the soldiers. “In the mean time we’ll send soldiers to,” he finally looked past the line of soldiers encircling his desk and noticed Delani waiting against the wall. A small smile started to pull at the corner of his mouth and was quickly banished before someone else might notice the shift in his expression.

Blinking himself back into focus, Cullen finished the sentence he had left undone. “… assist with the relief efforts.” With a quick glance around the room he met the gazes of all the soldiers under his command and nodded in finality. He dismissed them with a leveled, “That will be all.”

The soldiers started to file out of his office, each offering Delani respectful nods as they left one by one. Cullen trailed after his men, shutting the door behind them and leaning his weight against it as he rumbled out a tired, “There’s always something more, isn’t there?”

Turning her body to face Cullen, Delani leaned her shoulder against the stone wall of his office and smiled at her tall human lover. Her tone was teasing when she commented, “And what would you do without a mountain of work to keep you busy, Commander?” When he peered over his arm at her with a playful scowl on his lips she grinned and added, “Some days I worry that you love your work more than you love me.”

Scoffing, Cullen argued, “I cannot name a single thing that I love as much as I love you, but if pressed to put together a list I can assure you that work would not make the cut.” He pushed himself off of the door and started toward his desk, his steps were thoughtful as he strode deeper into his office, his strides were heavy with the stresses of command… and something else.

“This war won’t last forever,” Cullen stated, his back still turned toward her as he spoke. His steps came to a halt when he was in the middle of his office, stopped between his desk and where Delani was standing, caught between his responsibilities as Commander and his desires as a man.

He glanced over his shoulder at Delani before his gaze fell to his feet again. His fists were opening and closing nervously at his sides, curling and unfurling in the way they did when something was about to happen. Delani frowned. Something was on Cullen’s mind, something big by the looks of it, and she was curious to discover exactly what it was.

“I hadn’t considered much beyond our survival,” he admitted before lifting his gaze to meet hers again. His amber eyes were shining with something akin to hope, his expression hesitant as he broached the topic that made him so obviously nervous. “But things are different now.”

“Different,” she repeated, testing the word and trying to guess his meaning. “How?”

Delani pushed herself from her place at the wall and strode over to Cullen. Standing in front of him, she stared up at the tall man before her and inspected his features. His amber eyes were sparkling like gems, filled with life and passion, and a love that she could not describe. Her heart started to pick up in her chest, the cadence was anxious, her curiosity about Cullen’s behavior making her fidget with nerves.

Lifting his hand, Cullen caressed the back of his hand over Delani’s cheek and smiled softly.  His voice was low, quiet and tentative as he confessed, “I find myself wondering what will happen after…” His hand went from her face to the back of her neck, his strong fingers curling around its curve as he gently held her jaw with his thumb and tilted her face up to his.

Cullen’s eyes of golden honey were searching her features for sentiments sympathetic to his own. Delani placed her hand on the cool metal of his breastplate and held his gaze, her heart beat fluttering wildly in her chest. Even if she didn’t yet fully understand what Cullen was talking about she knew that this was important, not just to him but to their relationship as a whole.

“When this is over I won’t want to move on,” Cullen confessed, “not from you.”

There was an uncertainty in his gaze, a fear of disappointment caused by unrequited desires. Dropping his hand from Delani’s neck, he looked away and strode the remaining distance to his desk. “I-I don’t know what you—“ He shook his head, trying to formulate the words that seemed to be eluding him. “That is… if you…”

Delani stared at his back for a moment, trying to understand the tension collecting in his shoulders. A warmth had started to spread through her with his words. Cullen didn’t want to move on. When Corypheus was dead and the Breach was sealed he wanted to remain at her side. It felt so long ago that Solas had implored her to think about her future, a thought that she had admittedly set aside for more pressing concerns. Suddenly she felt the fool for not giving it heavier thought.

Delani loved Cullen with every thread of her being. If she lived for a thousand years she would never find another person of his like. Whatever happened once the threats of the Breach and a thousand year old magister were gone, she wanted to face it with Cullen at her side. He had to know that. He had to know how much she loved him.

If he knew that Delani had no intention of leaving him once everything was said and done, then the question was not if she would stay but something else entirely…

Nervousness coupled with excitement coursed through her veins like a flood of hot water. Stepping up behind Cullen, Delani placed her hand on his shoulder and gently urged him to face her. Eyes wide with uncertainty she asked, “Cullen, are you asking me—“

“No,” he sputtered in a hasty reply, understanding what she thought he was asking. He rubbed the back of his neck and a careful smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Not yet,” stated Cullen and Delani struggled to not be taken under the wave of disappointment that crashed over her.

Seeming to notice the shift in her expression, he cupped her cheek in the warmth of his hand and thumbed over the design of her vallaslin. “But I will ask you, and I want you to be certain of your answer when the day comes.”

He didn’t clarify which question he would be asking. He didn’t need to. She understood his meaning. An excited grin tried to wriggle onto her lips and Delani fought it back. Grabbing him by the collar of his breastplate she pulled herself to his chest and stared into the warmth of his adoring gaze.

“Cullen, I already—“

He silenced her with a kiss, the force of his lips against hers turning her words into incoherent murmurs. The initial surprise of his affection was quickly forgotten as Delani eased into the kiss, allowing Cullen to tilt her head back and part her lips so that his tongue might be reunited in loving embrace with hers. Inhaling his scent of soap and sandalwood, a throaty moan rumbled out of her as she gripped Cullen by his cloak and pressed herself so snuggly against him that not even the candle light could manage its way between them.

When Cullen was confident that she was in too deep of a daze to finish her forgotten sentence, he released her lips from his and smiled down at the disoriented elf before him.

Holding her face inches from his he assured her, “When I ask you I will do it properly. Until then all I want from you is to think on your answer.”

Still firmly clutching him by his cloak, Delani bit into her lip and tried to tamp down her growing excitement. He wasn’t asking after her hand, but he had every intention of doing so. Her ever tactful lover had managed to respect her dislike of surprises while also keeping the key details a mystery. The fiend.

She released her bottom lip from between her teeth and smiled up at him. With her eyebrow quirked in challenge, she goaded him with a taunting, “Is that an order, Commander?”

The smile that eased over his lips was sultry, making her insides tighten with excitement. His voice was husky when he replied, “It depends on how good you are at following orders, Inquisitor.”

Delani shrugged. “Not very,” she answered, her voice dipping down an octave as the warmth spreading inside her slowly burned away her inhibitions.

His smile turned ravenous and her heart jumped in reaction. “Then we are going to have to fix that.” With a wide sweep of his arm, Cullen cleared off his desk in a single motion. Turning to face her, his eyes were darkened by the shadow of desire and he instructed her to, “Get on the desk.”

Startled by his forceful tone, Delani’s eyes widened, her pupils dilating as a rush of anticipation washed over her. Her mouth was suddenly as dry as the Western Approach, all moisture fleeing south with the thrill of his commanding demeanor. Too surprised to make a sound, Delani released her hold on his cloak and quietly pulled herself up onto his desk and sat atop its surface.

Cullen stepped up to her, his hips spreading Delani’s legs apart so that he could stand between them, and placed a hand on the base of her neck. Bending her head back a bit, he locked her attention with his hooded gaze and sucked in a deep breath. His gaze was pulled down at the sight of her licking her lips and, for a second, his focus remained singularly on her mouth.

A growl rumbled out of Cullen when Delani pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. His thumb was strong as it urged the flesh from the clutches of her incisors. His expression was hard, a smolder working deep in his eyes and emanating from him like heat from a fire. Delani’s heart was beating rapidly against the walls of her ribcage, demanding release and to be firmly placed in the care of his hands; even if the shadow in his amber gaze was slightly menacing at the moment.

“Delani,” he said, his voice grating like gravel, seductive and alluring and awakening her senses from a slumber that she wasn’t even aware that they’d fallen to. Very seriously he asked, “Do you trust me?”

His grip on the back of her neck was firm but affable, dominating yet caring. Delani was helpless to him. Gazes locked in an armistice, Delani searched for her voice. It took several swallows for her to revive her vocal cords from uselessness.

Breathlessly she answered, “Yes.”

Cullen’s hand moved along her jaw, his thumb tracing her bottom lip as he stared down at her with a possessiveness that made her insides burn with desire. He loomed over her, towering in his height, his wide and muscular frame surrounded her. Heat radiated from him through his armor, reminding Delani of the warmth of summer. Even with his brows furrowed and the slight downward tug of his lips she felt safe in his arms, secure in the enclosure of his heat.

His hand dropped from her face to her collar and he began the slow process of unknotting the front of her tunic. Eyes of gold and honey held her gaze as he blindly undid each knot one at a time.

“Do you trust me with your body, Delani?” he asked when her tunic was open before him. Placing his hands on the bare skin of where her neck met her shoulders, he started to ease the fabric off of her. “Do you trust me with your heart?”

Delani licked her lips, her gaze held prisoner by the smolder in his eyes. Shrugging her tunic from her shoulders, she tossed it somewhere behind her and her voice was little more than a hushed whisper when she answered him. “Yes.”

She reached up, wanting to relieve him of his cloak and armor, only for him to capture her wrists and hold them between their bodies. Cullen’s grip was gentle yet unyielding, forceful and commanding. He was every inch the Commander and in that moment Delani was his to command.

His voice was a low rumble when he promised, “I’m going fuck you tonight, Delani.” Amber eyes were on her, a lion’s gaze homed in on his prey. Cullen brushed her hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Looking every bit the predator, he asked, “Would you like that?”

Her breath hitched in her throat at the sound of the curse in his mouth. Her heart leaped excitedly before accelerating in her chest, knocking against her ribcage as the fire that had been slow burning in her gut raged to life. When she opened her mouth no words came out. Her voice had failed her. Swallowing hard, Delani nodded sharply.

The smirk that twisted the corner of his mouth made her insides melt from the growing fire inside of her. Holding her by the chin, Cullen’s gaze turned deathly serious for a moment. “If I do anything that you don’t like I want you to tell me immediately. Do you understand?”

She nodded again and he was unsatisfied with her answer.

“Harillen,” he stated the elvish word for stop. “Say it and I will stop what I am doing at once.” When all Delani could do was gape up at him, a needy mew escaping her parted lips, he instructed her to, “Say it, Delani.”

Breathlessly, she did as instructed. “Harillen.”

The edge of his mouth curled again, plots and plans brewing in the deep amber of his eyes. Grabbing a hold of her face, he crushed his mouth against hers again. Her surprised moan was muffled by his lips, quickly absorbed by him as he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth and began to nibble on the flesh. Delani held onto him as he expertly pulled the breath from her lungs with the kiss, his tongue seeking hers out and challenging it to battle.

Delani was holding on to Cullen for dear life. Her fists were wrapped around the fur of his mantel, clutching onto him in a desperate attempt to stay grounded as the feel of his lips against hers threatened to take her from this world. When she started to tug at his cloak, trying to push it from his person, Cullen caught her wrists again and pushed them down until her hands were pinned to the desk's surface.

“You are not going to touch me, Delani,” he stated, a roguish light in her eyes that made her want to disobey him if only to discover what the repercussions might be. Imprisoning her gaze with the same tender force he used to pin her hands to the desk, Cullen informed her, “Only I will be doing the touching. Do you understand?”

Her nostrils flared as she breathed in, inhaling the scent of him. Her every sense was alive, awake to Cullen’s touch, a pleasure he was slow to give her. She wanted her hands on him, she wanted her mouth on him, her tongue tracing every line and muscular surface of his body. If he denied her the pleasure of touching and tasting him for much longer she would die.

Holding his gaze, Delani resigned herself to this unexpected, yet not unwelcome game he had decided to play tonight. “Ma nuvinen.” Already the fire of her arousal had stolen from her the ability to speak the common tongue. Just how long did Cullen intend to drag out her suffering?

Confident that Delani would keep her hands to herself, Cullen began the slow, torturous process of unlacing the brassiere shielding her breasts from him. He worked the laces with careful precision, unhurried to have her seated naked before him, unfazed by how desperately Delani already wanted him.

The rise and fall of her chest was rapid as she stared at his concentrated features while he worked. He was the picture of control. His expression steadfast as, with each tug of the lace, her breasts were that much closer to freedom. When at last her brassiere fell from around her chest and onto the desk behind her, all Cullen did for a moment was stare down at her with appreciation in his golden eyes.

Delani wiggled on his desk, pressing her aching cunt to the hard surface and wishing that he was already filling her up. Her voice was a thick and desperate moan when she croaked, “Cullen.”

His wet and pink tongue snaked out to drag across his lips. With steady hands, Cullen reached for the swell of her breasts and started to knead her perky mounds in his strong and calloused hands. Delani threw her head back as he pinched her nipples between his fingers. The moan that escaped her was loud, shuddering. Delani’s skin was so sensitive to Cullen’s touch already, when he brought his mouth down to her breast she thought that she might come undone that very moment and they had barely even started.

As Cullen suckled at her breast, while working the other between his fingers, Delani curled her fingers around the edge of his desk and she forced herself to keep her hands off of Cullen’s surface. Her knuckles were white, she knew that they were. She wanted to touch Cullen too badly. Withholding herself was causing her physical pain. Her core was aching, sore with longing, desperate to be filled by the thickness of Cullen’s arousal.

When Cullen nipped at her nipple, teasing it between his teeth, she almost released the desk to hold his face to her breast. Creators, that felt so good. Her breaths were leaving her in short bursts, making her feel lightheaded in her wanton.

Releasing her breast from between his teeth, Cullen kissed her in the center of her chest before leaving a trail of kisses down her torso, the definition of her muscular middle, and all the way down to the hem of her tights. Hooking his fingers around the waistband of her bottoms, Cullen dragged the tight fitting pants down her lean legs and threw them to fall somewhere on the floor of his office. He was kneeling before her, his mouth slightly open as he took in the sight of her spread open before him.

Delani watched Cullen through her hooded gaze. She was entranced by him, held captive to that adoring look in his honey colored eyes. Even splayed before him, naked and vulnerable he looked at her as though she were a creature most divine. His hands were warm as he splayed them on the sensitive skin of her thighs. Spreading her legs further apart, Cullen brought his face to her dripping sex and tugged her body to meet him the rest of the way.

The cry that came from Delani was pained when his mouth made contact with her aching womanhood. At first the flick of his tongue on her clit was tentative, the tip carefully stroking her, little butterfly kisses that could never bring her to satisfaction, and still Delani bucked against his mouth. Electricity shocked through her as he gently licked the bundle of nerve endings nestled in the cleft of her lips.

Spreading her folds apart, Cullen started to explore her further, tongue tracing, wandering, exploring the already familiar terrain he had mapped out several times before. His mouth felt so good pressed against her. The heat of his tongue on her aching pussy was maddening. Delani’s breath was coming out in jagged bursts. Her resolve was fleeting, her self control was evaporating.

Before she could stop herself Delani was peeling her fingers off of the edge of the desk and burying them in Cullen’s curls. Cullen’s mouth left her folds immediately and Delani felt his absence as though it had been a blow to her gut. She frantically returned her hands to her sides, hoping that it would be enough to convince Cullen to return to his previous ministrations. It wasn’t.

“You disobeyed a direct order, Delani.” He stated, standing from his knees. His mouth was glistening with her desire for him and when he slowly licked his lips Delani couldn't help the moan that escaped her. There was a devilish light behind his honey colored eyes. Trouble radiated from him and her instincts reacted in kind. Her legs spread further apart, her hips rolled in invitation.

Instead of unbuckling himself from his trousers and taking her like she wanted him to so badly, Cullen gripped Delani by the hips and yanked her off of his desk. In one fluid motion he had her turned around, folded over his desk, and her bottom up in the air as she stood on the tips of her toes before him.

Using the sturdy string from her brassiere, Cullen tied Delani’s wrists behind her back. He pressed himself to her backside and Delani moaned at the feel of his arousal pushed firmly up against her ass. Leaning himself over her back, Cullen placed his mouth beside her ear and growled, “You disobeyed me, Delani. Now I have to punish you.”

Grinding her bottom against the erection straining the fabric of his breeches, Delani replied with a hoarse, “Punish me, Cullen.” Delani had never felt more aroused in her entire life. She couldn't remember ever being this wet before. She needed him too badly. Her body was literally aching for him almost to the point where the desperation was physically painful for her.

Cullen peeled himself from her back and stood behind her. Delani held her breath in anticipation as she waited for what would come next. When Cullen’s open hand came down on her backside with some force a surprised yelp came out of her. The unexpected contact sent sparks through her bloodstream, the fire lapping in her core roaring in delight at the residual tingling that remained on her ass cheek even after Cullen had pulled his hand back.

When the second spanking came down on her rear Delani cried out with a delighted, “Oh!” Each time he slapped her ass she felt it right in her cunt and it was driving her wild with a primal need to be taken, consumed, claimed to her entirety. Cullen pulled his hand back again and Delani wiggled her bottom in front of him. “Punish me, Commander,” she beseeched him, begging for his open palm on her ass. “I’ve been such a bad, bad girl.”

A groan sounded from Cullen, the mask of his control slipping in wake of her pleas. He spanked her one last time before the jostling of loosening buckles filled her ears. Grabbing a tight hold of her bound wrists, Cullen pinned her down with one hand as he used the other to guide the tip of his engorged arousal to her dripping entrance.

They both cried out in unison when Cullen entered Delani with a single thrust until he was fully seated in her to the hilt. Delani squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her cheek to the surface of his desk. He felt so fucking good inside of her. The intensity of his invasion had been overwhelming, her body demanded more, it demanded movement and when she pushed back against Cullen she knew that his body demanded much of the same. Still holding her by the wrists, Cullen started to thrust against her. The push and pull of his body against hers was punishing, desperate.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh was loud in his office, their intermingling moans, groans, and animalistic growls even more so. With one hand on her bound wrists and the other on her hips, Cullen pulled Delani to meet each of his powerful thrusts. She gladly brunted his attack with clenched teeth and strained voice. The feel of his cock pounding in and out of her, his girth filling her, rubbing her, the sweet and unyielding friction was mind numbing.

Delani cried out. She didn't know how much longer she could hold on. His name was her mantra, the repetition was a thinning thread that kept her tethered to reality. But with a few more strokes that thread snapped and Delani felt herself being sucked under a riptide of sensory overload. Stars flashed before her eyes as her every nerve ending lit up like sparks of lightning during an electrical storm. Her channel tightened around Cullen, squeezed him as he continued to pound into her until his own release shot through him and into her heat.

Hunched over her Cullen pressed his brow, slick with sweat, to her shoulder blade and tried to catch his breath. After a moment he lifted his brow from her back and pressed a kiss to the space between her shoulder blades. Unseating himself from her core, he undid the knot holding her wrists together behind her back before tenderly rubbing the delicate skin of her wrists.

With her arms free to use again, Delani pushed herself up a bit and turned to watch as Cullen carefully caressed her bottom, rubbing away the redness his spanking had left behind. He looked up from her rear to meet her gaze and Delani could clearly see the concern in his eyes when he asked, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Standing up straight, Delani turned into Cullen’s embrace and pressed her naked body against him. When she spoke her voice cracked, still shaken from the intensity of their lovemaking, and she cleared her throat before trying again. “You didn’t do anything that I did not enjoy, vhenan’ara,” she assured him with an unabashed grin on her lips.

Delani looked up at Cullen so that he could see the goofy, lopsided grin that she couldn’t seem to wrangle from her lips. “That had to be the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had before.”

Chuckling, Culled stroked her naked back and leaned down to rub his nose against hers. “Glad that I could be of service, ma atishan.”

Her smile fell a bit. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Delani held Cullen’s gaze for a moment before admitting, “With everything that has been piling up around me I really needed that.”

His amber eyes were serious, even somewhat concerned, as he reminded her, “You do know that I’m more than happy to listen to all of your concerns, don’t you? I want to support you, Delani.” Cullen cupped her cheek in his hand and smiled down at her. “Your troubles are my troubles.”

"And yours are mine. Whatever comes next we will face together, my lion." Even though his words filled her with such a comforting warmth she was eager to move back onto easier topics of conversation. She cocked an eyebrow at him and stated, “Right now my only concern is how overdressed you are and that we’re not in a bed.”

Tucking a finger under her chin, Cullen grinned down at her. “You are insatiable.”

Delani nodded in agreement. “Which means that you’ve got quite the night ahead of you, Commander.” Pinching his muscular bottom through his trousers, Delani urged him along. “Now let’s get you up that ladder and lets get you naked. You take such good care of me, now it's my turn to take care of you.”

Chapter Text

Ambassador Montilyet,

It is with great concern that I write you; a concern that I am not alone in bearing. The first of our many concerns is that the Inquisitor has not yet taken the Faith as her own. In fact it has come to the attention of many that the Herald of Andraste has not turned from the heretic ways of her people. I had hoped that it was unnecessary to remind you that the Inquisition is a Chantry founded organization. Late Divine Justinia V did not die to see it turned over to the hands of a pagan.

While I do not feel personally affronted by the fact that an elf of all people is leading a force as great as the Inquisition, there are many others who are severely less understanding than I, and want to know where it will end. I do not consider myself to be a racist, but I too find myself wondering where the line will be drawn.

Your savage turned Herald has become among the most influential people in southern Thedas and the effects of an elf’s influence is being felt even in the heart of Orlais. It seems that every which way we turn there is an elf in position of power and influence, plucking at strings that should be far beyond the reach of their station. The power entrusted to them is neither their birthright nor Maker given, and this leniency, this complacency is felt by every noble born with pure human blood.

First it was Ferelden. Of course it came as little surprise that the king of dog lords and turnips found himself so easily bewitched by an elf. While I am sure that the eastern Kingdom is grateful to the Hero of Ferelden for ending the blight, her usefulness seemingly ended right alongside it. It is a common opinion among the Ferelden nobility that good King Alistair should have released his pet back into the wilderness where she belongs. I hear that the two years of her absence have been the most blessed since the King came into his throne. The Maker makes His will known, it is up to the faithful to see the signs when they are offered. When your eyes are blinded by heresy and paganism it is impossible to see what is right in front of you.

As though Ferelden’s unsurprising blindness is not bad enough, even Orlais finds itself in a state where an elf stands at the Empresses’ side, whispering nonsensical lies into our beloved monarch’s ear. Celene’s plaything should have never been welcomed back into the Winter Palace, and if it were not for the actions of the Inquisitor things would have remained as they were always meant to be: without an elf in a higher position than the nobles who were born her betters.

With so many elves in positions of note so far beyond their reach and station many are feeling pressured to conform to a way of living and thinking that goes against the Maker’s own will. If He had desired for elves to rule over man He would have made a knife ear his bride.

I am not a racist, but where is the line? It falls onto you and the faithful leaders of the Inquisition to ensure that the Inquisitor’s leash stays short. If the Herald of Andraste can decide the fate of a nation, or can sponsor the next Divine, then what is to stop her from one day deciding that she feels the need to conquer all of Thedas? She’s not even Andrastian! She’s converting all of those under her command to false idols and blasphemy, and many of your backers want to see this knife ear properly leashed.

It is your responsibility to the Maker and His will to control that rabbit before she changes our very way of life.

Kindest Regards,
Arl Henry Broderick of Val Firmin

Delani was fuming. As she paced from one wall of her chambers all the way to the other, she clutched the letter so firmly in her hands that her grip was tearing the parchment apart. A furious red rimmed her vision as she seethed, her breaths were jagged as she pulled and expelled them from her lungs.

She was an idiot. Creators, she was such a fucking idiot. Here she had thought that she’d been making actual strides as Inquisitor. She’d thought that she was starting to bridge the gap between elvhen and humankind. When, in actuality, she hadn’t even scratched that diamond encased surface. Race relations where exactly the same as they had always been. That social barrier wasn’t budging, no matter how forcefully she pushed against it.

To think that she could make a difference, that she had changed anything, it was nothing short of naive. It was childish. She was a fool.

“It falls onto you and the faithful leaders of the Inquisition to ensure that the Inquisitor’s leash stays short,” Delani repeated a line from the letter aloud to Cullen, who was at the desk in the corner of their room. He had decided to work out of their room, hoping to get through his reports in a timely manner before having to attend to his other responsibilities.

He probably hadn’t been expecting for Delani to storm into their room, seething, foaming at the mouth and waving around a correspondence to Josephine that she’d snatched from the ambassador’s desk. She’d read it to him, from start to finish she’d reread the words and allowed her fury to coarse through her with fresh loathing. Cullen had sat at the desk, his brows furrowed with displeasure, though he’d remained frustratingly silent throughout the whole thing.

Delani was ready to march to Val Firmin, wrap her hands around Arl Broderick’s neck, and squeeze his throat until he was blue in the face and only his Maker could save him. She’d wanted a similar response from Cullen, she’d expected it. She wanted him to be in a rage right along side her, she wanted him to want blood, but that was not the reaction she had gotten.

Instead Cullen had listened to her read the letter, frowning the entire time, and then when she was finished he had lowered his gaze back down to the papers covering the desk. He hadn’t said a single word, he hadn’t reacted. He was working, the picture of calm and control while she vibrated with a destructive anger that was physically shaking her all the way to the tips of her fingers.

“A leash,” she repeated incredulously, her head shaking as the flabbergasting statement struggled to settle in her mind. “Like I’m some sort of dog! Like I’m not the only person that can close that hole in the sky! Like I’m not the only one trying to drag all of southern Thedas out of the bullshit we’ve let ourselves be sucked into! He wants me to heel and to stay. He wants me to know my place as though it isn’t exactly where I am right now, doing exactly what I’m doing.”

With an infuriated, “Fenedhis!” Delani crumpled the letter into a ball and hurled it at the wall. She wished that it was heavier, she wished that it had broken the wall of their room in a destructive force that reflected her anger.

Cullen’s voice was infuriatingly steady and calm when he said her name; “Delani—“ only for her to cut him off.

“I was a fucking fool to think that I was making a difference for my people,” she raged, her fingers rolling into tight fists at her sides. Her nails were embedded in the skin of her palms, breaking her flesh and drawing blood as the crimson fluid churned with a fury quickly fleeing from her control. “I was an imbecile to think that anything was going to change after everything I did at the Winter Palace.”

His tone was patient when he corrected her. “You aren’t an imbecile, Delani.” Cullen remained seated behind the desk, his expression open and understanding as he regarded her. But there was also a tick in his jaw, and she could tell that it wasn’t only because of the letter or its contents. A bit of that visible frustration was with her and the realization left her dumbstruck.

“You knew to expect resistance,” he reminded her. “You knew from the start that we would have to fight for the change we want to see.”

Nostrils flaring as she sucked in a deep breath, Delani leered at Cullen. Her lip curled back into a snarl, displeasure sizzling through her veins at the mention of how reality would always conquer over her desires. “Resistance, sure,” she forced herself to agree. Violently gesturing at the wall she’d just assaulted with the letter from Arl Broderick, she growled, “Not complete and unapologetic degradation of my character, abilities, and dedication to ending this Creators forsaken war!”

Lips thinning, Cullen’s expression remained calm even as his amber eyes beseeched her to calm herself. “You should not have taken that letter from Josephine’s desk, Delani.”

The fire in her blood redoubled in force. How was this her fault? “Why not,” she barked in reply, eyebrows bent in outrage, chest heaving as she struggled to rein herself in from the edge of furious and uncontrollable madness. “I think I have a right to know when I’m being slandered against by ungrateful, disrespectful, bigoted, racist, ignorant shemlan!”

“Perhaps,” he replied smoothly, regarding Delani with a patience that was driving her up the fucking wall. Leaning back into the chair, Cullen regarded her with a gentleness meant to calm her down. The effects of which were not entirely lost on her. With a serious tone he stated, “But dealing with this kind of thing is Josephine’s job.”

“That doesn’t—“

He shook his head, stopping her from finishing her argument. “That,” Cullen pointed to where the crumpled letter had landed on the bedroom floor, “is why Lady Montilyet is here. She has the skills to deal with people and situations such as this one, so that the Inquisition does not lose traction in our efforts.”

“I understand that,” she shouted, feeling as though he were talking down to her just as the Arl had, like he was trying to put her in her place. Delani knew that it wasn’t the case. She knew in her gut and in her heart that Cullen was just being reasonable, but she didn’t want reasonable, she wanted outrage, she wanted blood.

Angrily scraping her nails through her hair, Delani fisted a tuft of auburn strands on the back of her head as she glared at the ground. “They still think of me as little more than a brute. I’m just some barbarian that’s good in a fight and that can do some blasted tricks whenever commanded to do so.”

“He is just one noble—“

“One of how many?” Delani challenged. “How many more feel this way? How many others have sent letters just like this one?”

Cullen’s jaw ticked as he remained silent. She had her answer. This was just one of many, many letters. Deep down, Delani had always suspected that this sort of thing went on beyond her notice. It took no stretch of the imagination to guess that humans, noble or otherwise, wanted nothing to do with the elevation of elves in their modern day society. But to see that resistance first hand, to read the words written with such intense hatred and bigotry, it was a completely different experience.

Releasing her hair from the clutches of her fist, Delani relaxed her hands at her sides and let loose a heavy breath. Her molars ached as she ground them, breathing through her nose as she attempted to calm herself down. With a soft voice she asked, “How much opposition will I face before things are made right?”

Lips twisting with sympathy and understanding, Cullen pushed himself from his chair and rounded the desk. He crossed the room until he had Delani in his arms and he hugged her to his chest. Gently guiding her cheek to the cool metal of his breastplate, Cullen stroked her hair before kissing the top of her head and assuring her that, “The whole world can oppose you, but that does not mean that they will stop you.”

His arms were tight around her when he murmured into her hair, “You are unstoppable, ma atishan.”

Her eyelids fell shut and Delani allowed herself to be swallowed up by the warmth of Cullen’s embrace. His body heat helped to calm the storm raging inside of her, the feeling of his strong hands rubbing her back helped to keep her grounded. With a deep inhale, she sucked in his sandalwood scent and hugged her arms around his middle.

Delani’s anger was far from gone but, with Cullen’s help, it had turned into something far more manageable than it had been mere seconds before. Biting into her bottom lip, she lifted her face so that she could look Cullen in the eyes. Her brows were furrowed with displeasure when she admitted, “I feel like you and the others are shielding me from the truth of things.”

His eyes were wide with surprise when Cullen looked down at her. “What?” he asked, sounding as though he thought that he’d misheard her.

“I feel like my advisors are shielding me from reality and allowing me to believe that I am making a difference,” she elaborated so that there would be no room for misinterpretation. With her hands on the cool metal of his breastplate, Delani pushed herself from his arms and took a step backwards. She held his gaze as she said, “I feel like you are allowing me to think that I am making a difference when, in reality, all the progress I thought I was making is actually the hopeful imaginings of a delusional idealist.”

Expression falling, Cullen’s features smoothed out with disapproval as he regarded Delani. His voice was low when he replied to her. “What I and your other advisors are doing is our jobs,” he corrected her, an insulted look in his golden eyes that she would even suggest that he’d purposefully encourage her to pursue miss-illusions of reality.

There was a crease in his brow, the space between his dark blond eyebrows wrinkled with rancor. It was an expression that usually appeared on his handsome features when his character was being put into question; which was not what Delani was trying to do, not really.

Settling his hands on the pommel of his sword, Cullen stared at Delani with affront still simmering in his amber eyes. “We aren’t hiding anything from you,” he assured her in his dangerously level tone. “We are simply doing our jobs. It’s our job to make sure that you do not have anything on your plate that does not need to be there.”

His jaw ticked as he ground his teeth. Cullen pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. When he spoke again the insult was no longer as bright in his eyes, and understanding had made its way back onto his features. “Idiot nobles who speak out of turn and without thought aren’t your concern, and you should not be bothered with it. Josephine can and is handling it. Let her do her job.”

Delani stared up at Cullen for a moment, forcing herself to calm down from the rage that the Arl of Firmin’s letter had sent her into. Cullen was right on all accounts. She knew that he was. The letter, and the noble who had sent it, was something that Josephine knew how to deal with. It was why she was with the Inquisition to begin with. Delani’s focus needed to be on thwarting Corypheus’s every effort at world domination and closing the Breach. All other details fell to her advisors to decide if it was worthy of her attention.

They all had jobs to do, Delani’s was to save the world. She needed to remember to allow her advisors to do their jobs.

Clasping her eyes tightly shut, Delani twisted her lips as she forced herself to let go of what remained of her reactive anger. Cullen had allowed her a moment of outrage, now it was time that she put her Inquisitor hat back on and return to her duties. Cracking an eye open, she peaked at Cullen and confessed, “You’re right.”

Cullen agreed with a nod. “Yes, I am.”

When Delani playfully swatted his shoulder a grin etched it's way across his lips. She scowled up at Cullen in amusement and groused, “I’m trying to apologize and you are not making it easy for me.”

His grin turned appeasing and, when Delani was confident that his snark was in check for at least the moment, she took a deep breath and straightened her spine. “I shouldn’t have taken the letter from Josephine’s desk and I should not have lost it like that.”

Cullen shook his head, interrupting her before she could complete her thought. Cupping her cheek in his hand, he held her gaze and assured her, “You have every right to be upset, Delani. But you cannot let the words of a moronic racist make you doubt yourself or your advisors. We all have our jobs to do and rifling through hateful messages is not yours.”

Bringing her hand up to where Cullen’s was on her cheek, she squeezed his fingers and smiled up at him. “When you put it that way I suddenly feel sorry for Josephine.”

The laugh that escaped Cullen was hearty. “Don’t,” he advised. “Arl Henry Broderick of Val Firmin will be lucky if he has any holdings or allies once Josephine is done with him.”

“She can be mildly terrifying when she puts her mind to it, can’t she?”

Cullen scoffed in agreement. “The Inquisition is most fortunate to have her.” Lowering his hand from her face to her shoulder, he held her tenderly, his honeyed gaze soft with devoted adoration before a knowing smile started to take shape on his lips.

“A new batch of recruits arrived yesterday and I have to go supervise their training,” he started before suggesting, “If you’d like, you can accompany me and we can demonstrate what a well matched fight actually looks like.”

Arching an eyebrow, Delani’s tone was hopeful when she asked, “A sparring match?”

Cullen shrugged. “If you’re up to it.” His smile turned mischievous. “We still need to have that tie breaker after all.”

Delani bit her lip as she took in the sight of him. Voice husky with lustful admiration she murmured, “How do you know me so well?” before accepting his offer. “You’re on, Commander.”

The noonday sun was insufficient to chase away winter’s hold over Skyhold. Although there was no threat of snow, a cold wind was coursing through the training grounds and chilling the sweat beading along his brow. Cullen clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering. Soon Delani would be upon him again, and if he kept moving he would be able to maintain some semblance of warmth.

Cullen raised his shield to meet Delani’s daggers and shoved her back before she could let loose a flurry of coordinated strikes. She was death in motion. Every practiced assault would have made its mark if Cullen’s attention wasn’t trained on her every move. Delani was an acrobat during battle. She spun, jumped, twisted, and flipped into each attack or away from every counter attack. Never stopping once, she was a constant blur of intensity that could maim him alive if he lowered his guard for even a fraction of a second.

Cullen kept his shield between them, waiting for the sharp intake of breath she always took before launching herself at him and unleashing a continuous stream of powerful blows. For the moment she was keeping her distance, twisting and turning away from his attacks as she tried to catch her breath.

This sparring match was different than the ones they’d had previously. Delani was still upset about the letter from Arl Broderick, he could feel her anger with each of her blows. In anyone else that level of fury would have been a distraction, it would have made them sloppy, but Delani’s fury only made her deadlier. She moved with purpose that would have resulted in the quick and efficient death of her enemies. As evenly matched as they typically were, Cullen had the dawning realization that today their consecutive ties would finally be broken. Today was the day that he lost to a rogue.

Delani sucked in a sharp breath and he raised his shield. Her roar was loud and unsettling as she threw herself at Cullen. Running him down as though he was her prey, Delani leaped into the air. Her bootless foot landed on the narrow edge of his shield and she flipped over his head. Cullen was shoved forward as the wood of her practice dagger dug into and dragged up the length of his back as she front flipped over his head. If this had been an honest fight Cullen’s shield arm would have been a loss, and he would have bled out in slow, painful agony. Since their weapons were made of wood and not steel he was still in the fight. For how much longer, he hadn’t the slightest idea.

The moment she landed behind him, Delani was moving again. She jumped out of the path of his falling blade and rolled against his shield until she was standing behind him. Cullen brought his shield around to catch Delani’s dagger before she could follow up with what would have been a killing blow. The force of her weapon making contact with the plank of wood dividing them sent him staggering back a step.

She twisted to the right, ducking beneath the sweep of his blade, and jabbed at this side. With a last second sideways step Cullen was able to dodge her attack and raise his sword to catch her retaliating strike.

His breath was coming out of him in heavier bursts as Delani put him through his paces. Already they’d been sparring for nearly half an hour, and she showed no signs of slowing. Whenever he thought that she was getting tired Delani would jump back and keep distance between them, switching to the defensive so that she could catch her breath. The sporadic reprieves never lasted long before she launched a fresh wave of attacks on him with renewed vigor. Confident as he typically was about his prowess as a warrior, she was starting to tire him out.

A roar bellowed from Delani as she leaped down upon him, bringing down her daggers like a pair of dragon’s fangs. Cullen rolled out of her path and rolled again when she followed after him. Kicking himself back onto his feet, he lifted his shield to brunt Delani’s vicious attack and stabbed his sword out toward her gut.

She caught his sword between her arm and her side and twisted the practice weapon from his grasp. Before Cullen could recover she was pivoting forward, her dagger poised for the center of his chest. The moment he moved his shield she was also in motion. Delani spun behind him, kicked in the back of his knee, and brought her wooden blade to his throat.

Letting his shield fall from his grasp and onto the dirt covered training ground, he lifted his hands in forfeit, accepting his defeat. Deep and ragged breaths tore through each of them as they both tried to recover from their taxing exertion.

From his knees, Cullen grinned at having finally been defeated by Delani. He turned his head to look up at her, watching her closely as she sauntered around him in victory, dragging her wooden blade across his neck as she circled her victim. With a chuckle in his voice he observed, “It looks like you finally got me on my knees, Inquisitor.”

Delani’s replying grin was delighted. “And what a glorious sight it is, Commander.”

Once she was standing before him, she lifted her dagger from his throat and placed it under his chin. Tilting his head back with the flat of her blade, Cullen met her simpering sea green eyes and choked back a groan when he saw the mischief storming inside of those gem like irises.

“Say it, Cullen.”

He smoothed out his features and pinned her with a faux-serious look. She was really going to make him say it. Fighting the grin from his lips, he bowed his head and conceded. For her, he would do anything; even this. Softly, Cullen said, “Rogues are the most difficult adversary I’ve ever faced.”

Cupping a hand around her pointed ear, Delani boisterously demanded, “Louder, Commander, I don’t think that everyone heard you.”

Cullen did a quick scan over the faces surrounding them. His soldiers stood encircling them with their mouths agape, taken aback by the show of skill that had just transpired before them. Not only had they seen a well matched fight, but they’d also witnessed the defeat of their commanding officer. It was a humbling experience to have his backside handed to him in front of his men. Unfortunately for Cullen, Delani wanted more.

Returning his gaze onto Delani, he peered up at her past the furrow of his brow and implored her for mercy. “You’ve already bested me in front of my men. Is that not enough for you?”

Delani scoffed. “Not nearly.” Smirking down at him in impish delight, she prompted, “Come now, vhenan’ara. Loudly, so that they can hear you.”

When he took too long to comply she started for him, “I, Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford, General of the Inquisition and her forces…” and left the sentence unfinished, hanging between them so that he could pick up where she had left off.

He dragged out an inconvenienced sigh before submitting to her torture. Clearing his throat, he tried again. Loudly, he stated, “I, Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford, General of the Inquisition and her forces have been defeated by a rogue and hereby acknowledge that theirs is the superior fighting style.”

The laugh that erupted from her was well worth the humiliation of his defeat. Moving her dagger to her other hand, Delani freed herself to offer him assistance to get back up onto his feet. For the millionth time he marveled at how his hand dwarfed hers when it clasped around her delicate digits. Before he allowed her to tug him upright, Cullen brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed the smooth skin on the back of her hand.

As he climbed onto his feet an unfamiliar voice barked out, “I call bullshit.”

Both his and Delani’s gazes snapped in the direction of the young soldier standing in front of the line of other recruits. He was a tall lad of athletic build. His olive colored skin had a healthy shine to it, and he carried himself with a certainty that spoke volumes of his upbringing. Old money, his posture screamed, giving away his noble heritage before he had the chance to boast it with his voice.

The boy’s dark blue eyes were sharp with disapproval. His lips thin as he regarded Cullen and Delani with what could have been easily mistaken for as disgust. With a furrow to his thick, dark eyebrows he spat, “You gave her that fight.” His accent was Orlesian, filled with pomp and unchallenged self-righteousness that came along with being highly placed in western society.

Cullen’s eyebrows shot upward the same second that Delani’s furrowed with outrage. For a moment he was taken back by this young man who thought it acceptable to speak to not only his commanding officer, but also the Inquisitor herself, in such a manner. Cullen opened his mouth, fully prepared to reprimand the foolhardy lad, but Delani was quicker.

“Do you want to run that by me one more time?” she growled, turning her body to face the recruit. Her shoulders were tense, her eyebrows were pinched, Delani’s sea green eyes were narrowed to pin pricks as she visibly struggled to tamp down her rage.

This boy of noble heritage had chosen the wrong day to step on her toes. He was prodding at an already agitated dragon. After all of the hard work Cullen had put into bringing her back from the red of her outrage, all it would take was the poorly thought words of a boy little older than a teenager to undo everything he’d done. The temptation to allow Delani to just tear into the boy was almost too great to resist.

Unaware of the precariously put together dam he was picking at, when the boy answered her question it was Cullen he was speaking to, as though addressing Delani directly was beneath him. “She’s half your size,” the recruit exclaimed. With a demeaning gesture at Delani, his voice was dripping with venom when he observed, “I’ve seen saplings thicker than her. You expect me to believe that a rogue, an elf rogue no less, defeated you: a Chantry trained Templar. Its bullshit and you know it, we all know it.”

Not knowing when to stop his yammering the boy continued, completely unaware that the thin ice beneath his feet was already cracked beyond repair and that one more word would be his ruin. “How much combat training can the Dalish have anyway? The Templar Order is a holy army. They’ve defeated clans of halla riders before. You let her win because she’s the Inquisitor. It’s as simple as that and it’s bullshit.”

Delani took a sharp step toward the boy and Cullen placed a firm grip on her shoulder to pin her in place. His voice was deep, authoritative, commanding in a way he had never had cause to use on a recruit before. “What is your name, recruit?”

The boy raised his chin. “Macario Jacques,” he answered, likely accustomed to getting his way when he dropped his name. It was unlucky for the boy that he had chosen this day to speak out of turn. Delani’s patience for nobles simply did not exist and, if he kept it up, Cullen’s would be equally hard to find.

Allowing his features to show the depth of his displeasure as he regarded the boy, Cullen reminded him, “Inquisitor Lavellan is your superior officer, recruit. I am not sure which backwards province spat you out and into our laps but here, in the Inquisition, undermining and disrespecting a commanding officer is considered insubordination.”

Jacques opened his mouth to argue, lifting his hand toward Delani as though bringing attention onto her would serve as his defense. “I meant no disrespect but—“

“Your meals will consist entirely of bread and water,” declared Cullen, not wanting to hear the rest of the sentence still hanging off of the boy’s tongue. It sounded too much like what the Arl of Firmin had repeated. I am not a racist. It didn’t matter if the boy hadn’t meant to be disrespectful, all that Cullen cared about was how his words had affected Delani. It took only a look to see that she was still seething worse than she had been before.

When the recruit opened his mouth to argue further Cullen spoke over him. “You will be cleaning every latrine and chamber pot in Skyhold until I tell you otherwise. You will assist the cook in the kitchens in cleaning up after every meal, and you will help Horse Master Dennet muck the stalls.” With an expression that clearly showed that he would not be swayed, and that this reprimand was as firmly in place as the Maker’s gaze from his children, Cullen finished, “Your combat training will resume when I deem you ready, and not a moment sooner. Am I understood?”

The boy clamped his mouth shut, his dark blue eyes glaring with a resentment that needed no words. He nodded sharply, and Cullen glowered at the further show of disrespect.

“I asked you a question, recruit,” he barked, forcing Jacques and all those around him to jump back a step in surprise.

Bowing his head, Jacques submitted. “Yes sir, Commander Cullen.”

Just as Cullen was about to dismiss the boy to start with his new duties, Delani shrugged out from under Cullen’s hand and took another step toward the recruit. Her voice was calm when she spoke, level in a way that was more dangerous than reassuring.

“You don’t think that I beat the Commander fairly, Jacques?”

Her shoulders were tight, pushed back, her spine straight and her stance even. Delani was making herself bigger, more intimidating to the boy who had called her a sapling. Cullen reached out to her, attempting again to pull her back but she shook him off of her shoulder before piercing him with a glare. Even after all of the punishments that Cullen had doled out to the boy, she was still not done with him.

When the recruit looked past Delani and onto Cullen, seeking direction, she ripped his attention back onto her with fury in her voice.

“Don’t look at him!” she snapped. “I’m the one talking to you right now and I want you to answer the damn question.”

Macario shifted his weight from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable with the situation currently unfolding around him. Nervously tapping his fingers against his thighs, he steadily held Delani’s gaze when he answered her. “I think that his training surpasses yours,” he supplied, sounding unapologetic even as the recruits around him sucked in sharp and surprised breaths. “I think that if it were a real fight all of your pretty dancing would get you killed faster, and if that’s how you really fight then I’m surprised you’ve managed to survive this long. You are his commanding officer and he didn’t want to embarrass you in front of his men, and that’s why he was going easy on you.”

Cullen’s voice was low when he beckoned Delani, quiet enough so that only her ears would hear him. “Ma atishan, just let this go.”

The only acknowledgement she gave of hearing him was a slight twitch of her ears. Focus pinned solely on Jacques, Delani observed, “Tell me, recruit, do you have any previous military training?”

The boy straightened his spine and spoke with misplaced pride when he admitted, “I’ve been trained in combat by the best chevaliers in all of Orlais.”

Nodding deeply in understanding, Delani leaned down and picked up the practice sword and shield off of the training ground and tossed them at the boy’s feet. When Cullen called for her, wordlessly discouraging her from whatever she had planned, her only reply was a curve of her lips that assured him that she would at least go easy on the boy. The reassurance didn’t reach her eyes, however, and Cullen knew in his gut that this would not end well.

After everything that Jacques had said, and the day that Delani had already had, it didn’t feel entirely unjust to let her discipline the boy. They would spar, he would lose, he’d be put into his place and the day could continue as normal. Perhaps a healthy dose of humiliation would help the recruit to stay his tongue the next time ignorance tried to spew from his mouth.

Reclaiming her discarded daggers, Delani fixed her grip on the hilts of her blades and peered at the recruit past the pinch of her brows. “Then you should have no trouble defeating an untrained, rogue, halla rider.”

Jacques was too quick to pick up the practice weapons. His smirk was too confident. The shine in his dark blue eyes was too eager. He thought his training would surpass Delani’s experience in actual combat. He was severely mistaken and Cullen no longer had it in him to try and save the boy from the gravity of his misunderstanding.

His stance was ready but he didn’t attack. It was only when Delani goaded him with a patronizing, “Do try not to go easy on me, recruit,” that he launched himself forward, his sword held back and ready to come down on Delani.

She stood her ground, squaring her feet and bending her knees. When Jacques was on top of her she lifted her dagger to parry his downward swing. Blocking his first attack with one hand, Delani punched him square in the nose with the other, causing the boy to stumble back.

As the recruit rubbed his nose and tried to gather his bearings, Delani started to stalk a slow and lazy circle around him. It was obvious to any onlooker that she could end the battle at any time. The only reason that she allowed it to go on was because she had a point to make, and Jacques would forever be a parable to all those who thought that Delani’s well deserved place as Inquisitor wasn’t earned through hard work.

Blinking the stars from his eyes, the recruit shook his head and returned himself to the fight. He turned his head in search of Delani, finding the predator circling her dinner. When he came at her again it was with his shield raised high like a wall, hoping to plow Delani down and get her off of her feet.

Again she didn’t move, didn’t even give him the benefit of thinking his attacks were worth dodging. She held her footing and waited for him to close in on her. Jacques’s roar was loud in the training grounds as he charged her down. Lifting her bootless foot off of the ground, Delani kicked the recruit’s shield and smashed it into the boy’s forehead. The force of his running attack turned against him knocked him on his ass, and when he pulled his shield to the side there was a discernible red line forming over his brow. That was going to bruise, and it was going to bruise ugly.

“Did the chevaliers teach you to fight on your backside, recruit?” Delani wondered, taunting him as she continued to circle around him like a bird of prey. Smirking down at the boy, she finished, “Or is it a self-taught technique? Because I am having a difficult time seeing the soundness of your strategy.”

Jacques growled and pulled himself back up onto his feet. There was determination still in his eyes, but now it was also coupled with uncertainty. The boy was no longer sure of his ability to outmatch Delani in combat, even practice sparring.

Now when he attacked Delani it was with a bit more thought toward design. He ran her down, expecting her to hold her ground, and was prepared to move his shield just so in order to jab her with his wooden blade. Instead of keeping her position, Delani took a casual step to the side and turned her body so that he could stumble past her. As Jacques bolted by, Delani caught his leg with the flat side of her dagger and swept his foot out from under him.

The boy staggered two steps before gravity and momentum claimed and reacquainted him with the dirt covered training grounds. He spat the earth from his mouth and started to push himself back upright. As he shook his vision back into focus Delani continued to torment him.

“Are we going to fight, Jacques, or were you planning on laying on your ass the entire time?” A laugh sounded from the growing number of onlookers surrounding them.

Cullen gave the area a quick once over. If Delani didn’t end this soon he was going to have to. The recruit had learned his lesson and so had all of those witnessing the boy’s humiliation. There was no need to drag it out any further, especially since Jacques would still have to endure the punishment of his insubordination.

Pulling himself back onto his feet, the recruit’s shoulders sagged as he turned to face Delani. Defeat was clear in his features and still he was determined to fight. He raised his shield back up and set his stance. With a deep breath, Macario flung himself at Delani again in one final attempt to at least put up a semblance of a fight.

She waited until the very last second to twist out of his path. Delani turned around until she was standing behind the boy. Sweeping her dagger upward, she slashed the wooden blade across Jacques’s back, shoving him forward with the power of her blow.

When he swung in a wide arch with his sword, trying to catch Delani in the neck, she ducked out of his weapon’s path, bending herself backwards before cartwheeling out of the path of his returning sweep. Slamming her dagger down on his wrist, Delani loosened his grip on his practice sword and knocked it out of his grasp. Without giving him a chance to recover, she grabbed the edge of his shield and gave it a fierce yank.

The shield ripped from his arm and he yelped out at the painful force of her pulling at him. Delani tossed his shield aside as though its presence was as offensive as the boy who had just been wielding it. She started to close in on him and Jacques backed up in a desperate attempt to maintain distance between them. His eyes were wide as he held Delani’s gaze, fear evident in those twin pools of deep blue.

Jacques tripped over his own feet in his backwards scramble. Landing on his back, he held his hands up in attempt to dissuade Delani from whatever she had next planned for him.

Brows furrowing, Cullen started toward the pair when Delani crouched down over the recruit and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. She pulled her fist back and, as Cullen neared their position, he heard her say, “It was I who went easy on you, recruit.”

The boy’s cries were muffled by Delani’s fist as it came down on him time and time again. “Inquisitor,” Cullen shouted as he came up behind her. He caught her wrist before she could wail on the recruit some more. Before Delani could try to pull herself from his grasp, he tugged her off of the boy and back up onto her feet.

Without sparing the boy bleeding on the ground a second glance, Cullen held Delani by the shoulders and stared down at her incredulously. Had that really just happened? Had he truly just witnessed Delani come down on a recruit and start to beat him senseless? All it took was a downward glance at her bleeding knuckles for him to know that, yes, she’d just assaulted an Inquisition soldier.

He knew why she’d done it. Cullen understood that her fuse was dangerously short today. He knew that the letter from the Orlesian noble had her balancing on the razor’s edge all day. Cullen completely understood that Macario’s insubordination had been both disrespectful and infuriating, but none of that excused her behavior. Jacques was little more than a boy. More than that, he was now one of Cullen’s soldiers and she should have left the responsibility of dealing with the recruit with him; where it belonged.

Her nostrils were flaring as she breathed, her green eyes wild with anger. Delani’s chest was heaving as fury wracked through her and she struggled to reclaim control of herself. Setting his jaw, Cullen stared down at the beautiful elven woman and fought for dominance over his own anger. He should have stopped her sooner. He was just as much to blame for what had just happened as she was.

Releasing her shoulders from his grasp, Cullen instructed her to, “Go cool off. I will see you in the war room in two hours.”

Delani was grinding her teeth. Her breaths were coming to her more steadily now as the freezing mountain air prodded at her, forcing her to reclaim a level head. She glanced down at the boy still lying in a heap on the cold wet ground. When she looked back up to meet his gaze there was an apology in her sea green eyes.

With a sharp nod, Delani turned on her heel and left the training grounds. Cullen watched her go for a moment before dropping his gaze to his feet. Dragging a hand through his hair, he turned his attention to the boy on the ground and gestured to the recruits closest to him, staring at him for direction.

In an impatient and commanding voice he said, “Clean him up off the ground and get him to the medic.” To everyone else he barked, “Resume training!” Every last one of them leaped to do as instructed. Even the onlookers hurried to make themselves appear busy so that they might not find themselves on the receiving end of Cullen’s glare.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Cullen shook his head and strode over to where he had discarded his cloak and armor. This was not exactly how he had anticipated his day going, and the headache starting to form in the back of his head was not going to make what remained of the day any easier on him.

Two hours later Cullen was making his way across the ramparts, through the atrium, and toward the war room. Earlier he had gone to the infirmary to check in with Macario Jacques. Aside from split lip, black eye, broken nose, and a wide bruise across his forehead, the only real injury he’d suffered was to his pride. The noble born Orlesian was not accustomed to getting his rear-end handed to him by an elf. It was a lesson that he would not soon forget, at least that was what Cullen hoped.

Ignoring the chatter of nobles loitering in the keep, Cullen palmed the pommel of his sword and strode for the door of Josephine’s office. He glanced quickly toward the door to his and Delani’s chambers and considered whether or not he should check in with her before their meeting.

While he knew that he needed to discuss with her what had happened this afternoon, he also knew that it was a conversation that would likely escalate into an argument; considering the kind of mood Delani was in. They would need time to work out everything that had happened, and right that very moment Leliana and Josephine were expecting them around the war table.

Sighing through his nose, he pushed in the door to Josephine’s office and started for the war room. He and Delani would talk about what had happened soon enough. First they had other things to attend to, and those things would not wait for an argument to be settled.

Josephine’s office was unsurprisingly empty when he entered and made his way toward the door on the other side. Her desk was immaculate and her workspace was the image of organization. It made him think of the mess that his office had become, papers scattered over his desk and littering the floor, books hanging precariously off of the edge of the book case or piled up on a chair.

To anyone else his space would be chaotic, messy and disorienting like the mind of the man who claimed it as his own. But he knew where everything was. Cullen knew that all of his signed reports were held in place by the stone that one of Skyhold’s children had given to him. He knew that his borrowed copy of “Hard in Hightown” was safely hidden under a pile of military strategy guides on the floor near his desk chair.

If Cullen ever attempted to clean his office, like how Josephine kept hers, he would lose everything. It would take exactly two days for it to return to the way it had been before. Cullen knew this from experience. He’d tried before, and he’d failed.

After the short walk down the hall from Josephine’s office to the war room, the sound of the Antivan ambassador’s voice came through the door. It didn’t sound like she was speaking to Leliana, so that either meant that Morrigan had done something to upset her, or Delani had made it to the war room before him.

When he pushed open the door he had his answer.

“What were you thinking, Inquisitor?”

He had never seen Josephine so upset. Not even when they’d been stranded after Corypheus’s attack on Haven, when they’d been at each other’s throats trying to come up with a solution to their displacement, had she been this upset. Her eyebrows were pinched with displeasure and disappointment. Leliana and Morrigan were both watching the interaction with complete fascination. They were engrossed, their levels of horror and fascination varying between them.

Josephine’s hazel eyes regarded Delani sharply, her expression stern as she reprimanded the leader of the Inquisition.“Do you have any idea who Macario Jacques is?” She demanded, appalled by Delani’s behavior. “Have you any idea how much his family has invested into the Inquisition? Do you know what their gold pays for, what alliances we’ve only acquired because of their support?”

His gaze fell onto Delani as Cullen made his way around the war table so that he could stand in his usual spot. Her green eyes were hard, not liking being scolded like a misbehaving child. Even if her expression was unapologetic, her eyes were still asking after the Antivan woman’s forgiveness. It only took a single glance at Josephine for Cullen to know that Delani would not get it.

This was just the argument he had opted to avoid having with Delani. It seemed that Josephine had beaten him to the punch. Though the ambassador’s reasons for wanting to know what Delani had been thinking were completely different than Cullen’s. Josephine needed to ensure that the Inquisition maintained face with all of its supporters, Cullen needed to know why Delani hadn’t just allowed Cullen to take care of his soldiers as was his duty.

Either way, this was a conversation they were having now.

When Delani realized that Josephine’s forgiveness wasn’t going to be immediate, she turned defensive. “I was thinking that I’ve had it up to here,” she gestured well past the top of her head, “with racist nobles who think that they know me.”

The look that Josephine gave her was disbelieving. “He’s just a boy, Lady Lavellan.” She tapped her fingers on the clipboard in her grasp and impatiently observed, “You allowed yourself to be antagonized by a child. Do you know who gets antagonized by children? Other children. Is that what you are, Inquisitor?”

Furious with the other woman’s implications, Delani slammed down a crinkled ball of parchment on the table’s surface. Markers jumped on the table from the force of Delani slapping it so hard, a few toppled over and rolled away from their places. When she pulled her hand away from the parchment Cullen recognized it as the one she had thrown across their room earlier that day.

“No,” Delani returned with a growl. “But according to nobles like Macario Jacques and Arl Henry Broderick, I’m nothing more than a knife ear.” She was glaring at Josephine with dangerously narrowed eyes and the Antivan woman took a retreating step back at the sight of Delani’s growing anger.

“After everything I’ve done, after all that I’ve accomplished, I am still a knife ear to these people!” Her nostrils flared as she pulled in deep and furious breaths. Whatever attempts Delani had made to keep herself calm had all failed, and Cullen knew her well enough to know that she would not be able to come back down until her anger had run its course.

Sea green eyes scanned over the room quickly, stopping shortly on Cullen to see which side he stood on for this argument. He nodded for her to say her piece. As upset as he was about her attacking Jacques, Delani’s anger stemmed from a legitimate place. It should not have manifested the way that it had, but she could no longer bottle up her frustrations anymore either. His understanding was not his approval, but his disapproval didn’t mean that he opposed her either.

Her jaw ticked as she worked through her frustration and searched for the words to verbalize them. With a deep breath, Delani started, “After saving the Order, saving the Wardens, saving an entire Creators forsaken nation I am called rabbit. And my skills are belittled by a len'alas lath’din."

Under different circumstances Cullen might have laughed at her choice of words. It took him a quick moment to translate her words to mean ‘dirty child that no one loves’. It was an insult that he had never heard her use before, no matter how much cause she’d had prior to this moment.

“And it’s not just me,” she exclaimed jabbing herself in the chest with her thumb. Delani’s thick auburn eyebrows were bent with outrage and disgust. Her lips were twisted into a sneer, and her anger was radiating from her like heat from a wildfire. “The Hero of Ferelden is the King’s ‘pet’ and Briala is Celene’s ‘plaything’. They don’t even have names!”

With a shake of her head she murmured, “We aren’t deserving of even that much.”

Josephine’s expression softened more and more the longer Delani vented her frustrations. Her features were understanding even if they were still displeased with how Delani had reacted to her anger. Sighing heavily, Josephine assured her, “I understand your frustrations, Inquisitor, but taking those frustrations out on a boy was beneath you and it degraded the whole Inquisition.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. It appeared as though Cullen was not going to be alone in suffering migraines that day. “Disciplinary measures would have been taken by the Commander, and the boy would have learned his place.” Josephine shook her head, and her frustration was loud in every movement. “Losing the backing of this family is not a blow that the Inquisition will easily bounce back from.”

Delani’s lips thinned as she considered all that Josephine had said. After a moment she let out a long sigh through her nose and bowed her head into her hand. Rubbing her forefingers into her eyes, Delani didn’t peel her face from her hand until she was ready to meet Josephine’s disappointed gaze one more time. With another sigh, she admitted defeat on the matter.

“You’re right,” Delani conceded. She raked her fingers through her long crimson hair and held the silky strands against the back of her neck. Tilting her head back and staring up at the vaulted ceiling, she groaned, “You’re right, okay? I reacted poorly to being second guessed by a child. I should have let you and the Commander do your jobs instead of allowing it to affect me.”

Josephine cautiously watched Delani for a few seconds, her eyes narrowed as she tried to gauge the sincerity of Delani’s apology. After a minute the Antivan woman let out a sigh and nodded that Delani was forgiven. “I will do everything within my power to smooth things over with the Jacques family, since word will undoubtedly get back to them. Hopefully it will be enough to ensure that they do not pull their backing from the Inquisition.”

The Inquisitor offered Josephine an apologetic simper. Biting into her bottom lip, Delani put on an innocent face and quietly offered, “I truly am sorry, Josie.”

The other woman doubtfully pursed her lips but didn’t address Delani’s apology any further than that. Tapping her nails against the back of her clipboard, she held Delani’s gaze and watched her features as she moved on to the next topic of discussion. “Since you took the liberty of rifling through my papers, is it safe to assume that you saw the message from your mother about your clan?”

Delani immediately stilled as Cullen did right along side her. If Delani had seen that Josephine had word from her clan she wouldn’t have let either Broderick or Jacques to affect her as much as they had. Now that Josephine was mentioning anything, Cullen found himself exceedingly nervous about what news came from Wycome. Had the clan finally decided to move on? He knew how much Delani wanted her mother to relocate the clan.

Her eyes were quickly pulled onto Cullen and they shared a concerned look before Delani redirected her attention to the ambassador. “I did not,” she admitted before demanding, “What news do you have.”

“After all of the help that clan Lavellan has been to Wycome, its citizens respect them a great deal,” Josephine informed them with a small smile that quickly faded when she continued with her report. Rifling through the papers clipped to the board on her hand, she freed the letter she’d stuck there and slid it across the table toward Delani. “The other cities of the Free Marches are threatening to send forces to crush the new government that Keeper Milathara has helped establish.”

Cullen’s blood ran cold. If the other cities of the Free Marches were going to send their armies to Wycome there was only one sensible retaliation. A chill ran down his spine at the thought of what could happen if they did not send their soldiers to defend Wycome from the kingdoms that surrounded it. The lives of Delani’s clan were on the line, and those were not something that either of them were willing to gamble with.

That was why when Cullen stated, “We have to send our forces to defend Wycome,” he was surprised when Delani did not immediately take his side on the matter.

While Morrigan and Leliana remained quiet as they carried on the discussion, Josephine was quick to argue with Cullen about the use of force. “That won’t be necessary, Commander.” She looked at Delani and entreated her to listen. “These nobles can be reasoned with if we only give them the opportunity.” When Delani and Cullen both made a disbelieving sound Josephine hurried to plead her case.

“Not every noble is like Arl Henry Broderick or Macario Jacques, and if you start regarding them as such you’re not any better than the way they regard elves.” Her hazel eyes glittered with a desperate plea. “If we send dignitaries to try and speak with them, to make them realize that attacking Wycome is wrong, we will be able to save lives in the long run. We save Inquisition soldiers, we save the lives of the Marcher’s soldiers, and we save the lives of your clan. Just give diplomacy a chance, Inquisitor, that is all that I ask.”

Cullen was prepared for Delani to reject Josephine outright. He knew that she would attempt to let the other woman off easy. She had to, because there was no possible way that he was the only one feeling this level of trepidation over trusting the lives of Delani’s clan to the hands of dignitaries and racist noblemen. But then Delani didn’t immediately turn down Josephine’s suggestion and his attention ripped back toward her to find that she was actually considering it.

“Inquisitor,” his tone was cautious as he toed the line of lover and Commander. Right now he had to be more than the man who she shared her heart and her bed, he had to be the voice of reason who also led her armies and commanded her forces. “My men will be better able to protect your clan than pretty words from dignitaries. If we reinforce Wycome with our soldiers our presence alone will be enough to deter anyone from attacking. There will be no need for bloodshed, but it is better to be prepared for it just in case.”

“You send a force and the Marcher’s will retaliate in kind,” Josephine warned. “If we come to them in peace they will meet us halfway. I know they will.” Hazel eyes were pleading for Delani to listen to her, to really listen. “You want things to change for the elves, what better way to broker change than with peace?”

His attention moved back onto Delani. His heart was like lead in his stomach when he saw her still undecided on the topic. “Sometimes the best way to gain peace is to show that you will fight for it,” he inserted, hoping that it would be enough to remind her that she was willing to fight for her clan, she always had been; it was a fact that should not have changed. Momentarily not caring about the women in the room with them, Cullen held Delani’s gaze and stated, “Let me send my men, Delani.”

She clenched her jaw and averted her gaze onto Josephine. Sighing through her nose she shook her head in answer to Cullen’s request. “Josephine is right, Commander,” she used his title to remind him that she outranked him and that the decision was hers to make, and would be final. “If I want things to change for my people I have to change myself. I resort too easily to violence, we’ve all seen that today. If this matter can be dealt with peacefully then it is worth a try.”

Josephine let out a long, relieved breath before saying, “Thank you, Inquisitor.”

For a few minutes all Cullen could do was stare at Delani. Even as the group transitioned onto the markers on the war table, and all the things that still needed to be done before they were ready to face Corypheus in the Arbor Wilds, his attention remained mostly on the elf woman across the table from him. He knew in his gut that sending dignitaries to meet these nobles was the wrong call. This was a huge risk that Delani was taking, and it was the lives of her clan that she was risking.

But the decision was made. What happened next was in the Maker’s hands now. All Cullen could do was pray that maybe these nobles would be able to see reason after all. Andraste preserve them, he hoped that Josephine came through on this like she did on all other matters that fell into her lap. If she didn’t… all he could do was hope for the best and focus on the task still at hand.

Chapter Text

Grey skies expanded across the heavens, a dark armada encumbered by its weighty load. The threat of snow was great but, as Delani and Cullen rode through the mountain pass, winter’s only attack was the icy wind currently sweeping across the landscape.

Her teeth rattled, a chill coursing through her, shaking her with wave after wave of shivers. She could not wait to get home and steal Cullen away to their chambers where they could warm up in front of the fire. After the last few days that she’d had, relaxing in her lover’s arms was the only thing on her agenda.

As a fresh wave of shivers wracked her body, Delani rubbed her hands together and blew onto her gloved digits. Creators, she hated the cold. When Cornelius made a loud and irritated honking noise, she patted him on the neck and agreed with his sentiment. “Me too, Cornelius. Me too.”

Riding along beside her, Cullen spared Delani a glance and a smile before shaking his head. He was bundled up from head to toe, covered in warm furs and protective layers that helped to keep the cold at bay. His pale skin was rosy from the chill, his nose a bright pink that made him look unbearably adorable.

Straightening his grip on Delilah’s reins, when Cullen’s gaze returned to hers there was a cautious set to his features and a tentative shine in his amber eyes. They were going to talk about what had happened in Orlais. She’d avoided the conversation long enough and, now that they were so near to Skyhold, Cullen wanted to know where she stood.

His curiosity wasn’t unreasonable, it was just that Delani didn’t yet know how she felt about everything that had happened. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She felt lied to, betrayed, and infuriated. What she didn’t know was what she was going to do about it.

“We’re almost at Skyhold,” Cullen observed from his place atop Delilah. His amber eyes moved from the horizon back onto Delani and the upward tilt of his lips was encouraging when he asked, “Are you any closer to a decision as to what you will do with Blackwall?”

Grinding her molars, Delani glared at the snow laden clouds above and muttered, “Don’t you mean Thom Rainier?” He didn’t reply, just allowed the question to linger between them. After a few seconds Delani let loose a heavy sigh and shook her head in answer to his question. “I’m no closer to a decision than I was in that jail in Val Royeaux.”

He made a noise of understanding before stating, “You agreed to bring him back to Skyhold, that must mean something.”

Tightening her fists on Cornelius’s reins, Delani replied, “It means that if he’s to be executed I’d rather it not be by the hands of Orlesians,” with a bitter note in her tone. In truth, Delani didn’t want to see Blackwall executed at all. Even after learning everything that he had done she wasn’t sure that taking his life would be justice.

Cullen’s gaze was trained on her as their mounts continued on the familiar path across the mountain. His expression was neutral when he asked, “So you’ll execute him?”

Shrugging, she answered his question with a question. “Should I?”

When she looked over at Cullen, desperately searching his handsome face for a solution to her current predicament, all she found was patient understanding. Cullen would help her work through her thoughts, but he would not make this decision for her. Whatever she chose she had his support, and she supposed that it was all that she could ask for.

“Would you,” he wondered, “if it were me in his place?”

His question caught her by surprise. Delani blinked hard before shaking her head at the outrageous suggestion and scoffing at the notion. “That’s hardly a worthy comparison. You are nothing like Blackwall.”

Cullen lifted a single eyebrow in challenge. “Aren’t I?” he asked before reminding her that there was a time before where he was not with the Inquisition. “He may have accepted money to murder a family while they slept, but I am no better than him. For years I took part in the injustices committed toward mages. I persecuted and generalized them. I ignored legitimate claims of rape and abuse and my inaction caused more than a few to take their own lives.”

Very seriously he asked, “What makes me better than him?”

It was a question to which Delani had no answer.

“Blackwall may have run from repercussions of his crimes, but he has atoned for them as well.” Cullen held her gaze, his amber eyes sympathetic to the man they were currently discussing. “He has helped the Inquisition and he is our friend. He is not the same man who committed that atrocity all those years ago. So, do you punish him for the crimes of another man?”

Twisting her lips, Delani struggled with her answer. Whichever way she leaned felt wrong. Whether or not Blackwall was the same man that had killed that family so many years ago did not change the fact a crime was committed and justice was evaded. But what was “justice”? Was it letting Blackwall go free so that he could continue to atone for his past failings? Or was it punishing him for a past that would always haunt him no matter how long he lived?

To Cullen she asked, “What would you want if you were in his position?”

Cullen let loose a weighted breath and blinked against the cold wind that swept across the the mountainside. With certainty in his voice, Cullen mused, “I would want to make things right. There isn’t a single person alive that can punish Blackwall any more than he has been punishing himself. He is no longer running from his past, he is prepared to face whatever repercussions come his way, and he believes himself to be deserving of them.”

“Oddly enough, that didn’t help me at all,” Delani groused, tightening her hold on Cornelius’s reins.

The upward turn of his lips was sympathetic. His voice was apologetic when he reminded her, “It will take some time for Leliana to smuggle Blackwall out of Orlais. There’s still time before you have to come to a decision.”

As true as that was, how did she even make that kind of decision? Letting loose a weighted breath, Delani focused her attention on the horizon and the steady approach of Skyhold. They were almost home. Home, she thought. The word felt foreign to her. Not because she had never felt it before, but because she had never expected to be able to describe anything outside of her clan as home.

Glancing over at Cullen, Delani admired her human lover. He sat atop his Ferelden mare with certainty in his spine. He was at ease, his shoulders back, his posture comfortable as they continued down the well worn path to the fortress. Covered in furs as he was, Cullen’s already impressive build looked bigger, more muscular than usual. He appeared a mighty beast, ready to fight for all that he loved.

The thought brought a smile to her lips. All that he loved. She fell under that category. During her time with the Faceless Few Cullen had fought for her. He’d searched for her, and came after her, because he loved her and didn’t want to live without her. Delani bit her lip. Even after all this time she still had no idea what she had ever done right in her life to be worthy of him.

He must have felt the weight of her gaze, because he glanced in her direction and tilted his head curiously when he found her staring. An uncertain smile pulled on his lips and he wondered, “Is everything alright, ma atishan?”

Mhm, Delani hummed and nodded. Smiling softly at Cullen, she stated, “I’m just eager to get you home.”

An eyebrow slowly arched upward as Cullen regarded her. “Oh?” he asked, his own smile turning mischievous. His amber eyes glinted flirtatiously, and Cullen’s voice dipped down an octave into a smoky timbre when he wondered, “And what were you hoping to do once you got me home, my lady?”

“Well,” she shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. Waggling her eyebrows, Delani’s voice was also smokey when she answered him. “I was hoping to warm you up, Commander, by whatever means necessary.”

Pursing his lips, Cullen’s gaze fell from Delani’s eyes and did a quick inspection of her body. Her gaze followed his. She was insulated in several layers of fur. Her hood was drawn, protecting her ears from the cold. The warm garbs were practical, they were functional. They were a far cry from seductive. And still Cullen was looking at her as though she were scantily clad in nothing but her small clothes.

Grin turning wolfish, when he met her gaze again there was a smolder in his eyes. With a deep growl he prompted, “Race you there?”

Delani’s grin unfurled in an instant. Without replying to him, she jammed her heels into Cornelius’s sides and sent the hart flying. Having expected no less from her, Cullen was at her side in a blink.

Her laughter was loud in the air as they raced through the snow toward Skyhold. The fortress quickly grew as they came upon in. What had once been a hopeful spec in the distance, its enormity became obvious with each hoof-fall on the beaten road back home. When the sounds of clamoring mounts changed from the earth road to the stone paved bridge, Delani pressed Cornelius to go faster.

The mount’s breaths were strained as he and Delilah fought for the lead. With some encouragement from Delani he was able to push ahead. As she passed him, Delani blew a kiss at Cullen, and laughed again when he rolled his eyes at her.

She crossed the gates a fraction of a second before Cullen, punching the air in victory as Cornelius went full speed toward the stables. Afraid that her mount might destroy the entire structure with his arrival, Delani tugged on his reins and urged him to slow down before they crushed a hole through the wall.

As Cornelius sputtered to a stop, Delani could hear Delilah stomp up behind them. She threw a glance over her shoulder and smirked at Cullen, who was already shaking his head at whatever retort would come out of her mouth next. She couldn’t help her giggle if she wanted to.

“Looks like I won, Commander.”

The subtle smile on his lips was devilish, his golden eyes glimmering with a fire that signaled for something primal inside of her. “What is it they say,” he mused, “to the victor go the spoils?”

Heat spread through her quickly, her body coming alive with each inhale that blew on the ember glowing in her core. Voice turning husky, Delani bit her lip before investigating, “Did you plan on spoiling me, vhenan’ara?”

“It seems only fair,” he smirked, “ma atishan.”

Suddenly in a hurry to get their mounts put away, Delani dismounted from Cornelius’s back and ushered him into the stables. Walking Delilah in the same direction, Cullen caught her fingers with his and interlaced their digits until they had to part ways to get their mounts into their respective stalls. Delani winked at Cullen when the separated, guiding her hart to his private space in the back.

As she tended to Cornelius she sang a lullaby her mother had used to use while putting her to sleep. Quietly serenading her mount while she worked, she removed his reins, his saddle, and all the remaining riding equipment before she combed the sweat out of his thick coat and draped a warm cloth over his back before working some straw between him and the fabric. The day had been a cold one, night promised to be even more so.

When Delani was finally finished preparing Cornelius for the bitterness of another winter night, she turned to exit his stall only to stop short. Leaning on the entrance of the stable with his arms crossed over his chest, Cullen was watching Delani with adoration in his eyes. The smolder of his desire was still there, but something deeper eclipsed even that. Delani knew the sentiment well, as it often felt like the only thing that kept her alive. Creators, did she love this man.

“That was lovely,” he observed, his smile growing as she approached him.

Cullen welcomed her into his arms, his hands naturally molding to the shape of her waist as he smiled down at her. Delani had to stand on the very tips of her toes in order to comfortably wrap her arms around his neck, and even then she used the word ‘comfortably’ loosely. When Cullen leaned down a bit on instinct Delani grinned up at him in gratitude. She toyed with the downy curls at the nape of his neck and stared into his gorgeous honey colored eyes.

With a shrug, she supplied, “It’s just something my mother used to sing to me when I was growing up.” Smiling, she added, “Typically on key if she could help it.”

At that Cullen chortled. Gently combing her hair away from her eyes, he smiled down at her as he admitted, “I think you have a nice singing voice.” He then dipped his head down and buried his face in her neck. “I intend to hear it again before the day is done.”

Delani purred, curling her arm around his neck and securing him to her. Her other hand fisted the furs of his cloak, her fingers clutching on to him as though he were the only thing keeping her anchored in this plane of existence. When his tongue snaked out and skated over the surface of her skin, Delani groaned out a strained, “You are a wicked man, Cullen Rutherford.”

The noise he made was irritatingly self-satisfied. “Let us get you to our chambers then, shall we?”

“Sooner rather than later would be preferable,” Dennet’s gruff voice sounded from further down the stables.

Cullen pressed his forehead to Delani’s before releasing a long sigh. After a brief second he looked up from her and down the structure’s length to were Dennet was watching them with an expression that was a cross between unsurprised indifference and amusement. They parted only partially, their hands falling from each other’s bodies only for their fingers to become intertwined between them.

Sounding only a little irritated at having been interrupted, Cullen bowed his head apologetically at Dennet and said, “On this you and I are of like mind, Horse Master Dennet.” When the older man quirked an eyebrow, Cullen did his best to hide his blush behind a smirk and started to tug Delani from Cornelius’s stall.

Stifling a giggle, Delani closed the stall’s gate as they left. She pressed herself to Cullen’s side, his strong arm around her shoulders as they exited the stables, and offered the other man a playful wink before they stepped back out onto the lower courtyard. She took a sharp breath once they were back in the cold. Her eyes pointed heavenward as she watched the weightless white flakes flutter from the sky.

A smile inched across her lips as she slowed her paces, easing out from under Cullen’s arm as she watched the snow start to come down. Grinning widely now, she met Cullen’s curious gaze and astutely observed, “It’s snowing.”

He lifted his hand toward her and beckoned her back to his side. When Delani placed her small hand in his, he gently pulled her toward him and laughed at her expression. With a glance up at the clouds, dark grey with the burden of their cargo, he stated, “It’s going to really come down soon.”

Looking back down at Delani, his rosy features were bright when he winked at her. “We better get you inside, my lady. We have to warm each other up, after all.”

They started up the steps to the upper courtyard and Delani asked, “Is that before or after you make me sing?”

“While.”

Delani purred deep in her throat. Squeezing his hand, she tucked herself into the shield of his side and growled, “Commander.”

Just as Cullen predicted, all it took was the short climb of stairs for the weather to change. The wind quickly picked up in strength, the snow fell in a flurry, flecks of snow clumping together and falling heavy from the skies. Not wanting to be outside when the snow started to really come down, they hurried up the stairs to the Keep and sighed when they were welcomed by the warmth of multiple hearths burning down the long hall.

Several gazes were pulled to them upon their arrival, the familiar din of prattling nobles a welcome sound after how long she’d been away from home. Varric was at his writing desk, his nose buried in parchment as the quill in his hand worked. He gave them only a sparing glance, a brief nod, and a grunt in greeting before he set back to work.

She looked up at Cullen to find him smiling down at her. With his hands on her shoulders, Cullen offered to take her cloak from her, and Delani hesitantly agreed to let him. She unclasped the hook on her collar and allowed him to pull it off of her. Once she was free of the heavy cloak, Delani rolled her shoulders back and twisted the tension from her back. They started down the hall but were quickly intercepted before they could make it to the first door of their chambers.

Delani almost groaned. Back for nearly half an hour and already they were being set back to work. Who did she have to kill in order to get a moment of respite with Cullen? Corypheus, her mind provided. Oh right, there was still a world she had to save. She’d almost forgotten.

Leliana walked beside them for a few paces before speaking, “Welcome back, Inquisitor.” Her gaze moved to Cullen and she nodded in welcome, “Commander.” When he nodded in return, her focus was back on Delani and there was a shadow in her eyes. “Josephine was hoping to meet with us all in the War Room.”

Rolling her eyes, Delani ground her teeth and shook her head. They’d just gotten back from a long journey, her’s even longer than Cullen’s who had joined her in Orlais only after she’d sent for him. If they had to get sucked into the thicket of work, the least Leliana and Josephine could do was give them a few hours.

“Can it wait, Leliana?” Delani forced herself to pose it as a question and not a command. “We just got back and we’d like to—“

“It’s about your clan,” Leliana interrupted her before she could finish.

She and Cullen both stiffened with the revelation. They shared and uncertain look before searching Leliana’s features again. The shadow in her eyes was a permanent fixture that Delani had become accustomed to long ago, but it was darker today, and Delani didn’t know what to make of the change. Nodding sharply, she gestured for the Spy Master to lead the way to Josephine’s office and the war room there after.

As the three of them walked, Delani demanded, “What’s the news? Do you know?”

Leliana shook her head. “Word just arrived,” she said. “I know nothing for sure.”

“If you were to venture a guess,” Cullen asked the question that Delani had been thinking.

The other woman pressed her lips into a thin line and refused to do even that much. Delani’s stomach felt heavier as they neared the war room, as though it were lined with stone. Leliana had never refused to at least entertain ideas before. If she was refusing to touch the subject it was because she knew more than what she was letting on… and what she knew was not good. Once they crossed Josephine’s office and opened the door to the last hall separating them from the war room, Delani grew increasingly less certain she wanted to know what news had come. Perhaps it could wait for a day or two.

As though he could sense the tension growing inside of her, Cullen’s hands found her shoulders and squeezed them tightly. His touch was a reassurance. Whatever awaited them in that cylindrical room she was not alone. As long as he drew breath she would never be alone again. Steeling her resolve, Delani sucked in a deep breath and took comfort in Cullen’s support.

Whatever came next, they could handle it.

Cullen pushed the door open and allowed her and Leliana to enter before shutting it behind him. The Spy Master made her way to her usual place at the table, but Cullen remained at Delani’s side. His nearness was a comfort as Josephine struggled to maintain a neutral expression.

“Inquisitor, Commander,” she said, greeting them both with a steady voice. “Welcome back, I trust that your travels were uneventful.”

Not caring for the small talk, a nervous tick that Josephine was typically better at quelling, Delani bit out, “Leliana said that you’d received word from my clan.”

Josephine hugged her clipboard to her chest and bowed her head. She worked her jaw as she ground her teeth. Each second that Delani’s question was left unanswered felt like an eternity. When the ambassador did finally look up to meet Delani’s gaze her hazel eyes were glistening with an apology.

“Word from Wycome,” she corrected Delani before removing a page from her clipboard and passing it over. As Delani took the parchment from Josephine’s hands, the woman stated, “I’m afraid that the news isn’t good.”

Delani’s gaze was still trained on the ambassador, reading Josephine’s features before she dared to turn her eyes onto the paper in her hand. Her heart was racing, nervousness and dread were spreading through her like the shadow of night. Sucking in a deep breath, Delani forced herself to read the message crinkling in her slightly shaking hand. Cullen was still behind her, his support was constant. It was just a letter, how bad could it be?

She started reading.

Ambassador Montilyet,

I regret to inform you that a contingent of soldiers gathered from other cities in the Free Marches attacked Wycome and slew most of the elves within, including all of the Dalish clan.  

They avoided attacking humans when possible, and were willing to meet with us once their bloody work was done. They professed shock that Duke Antoine had been using red lyrium and insisted that all they knew was that the elves had rebelled and killed the rightful rulers of the city.

This has all been branded a tragic misunderstanding, and the nobles who now rule Wycome insist that they will repay the Inquisition for this horrible mistake.  I await my return to Skyhold at your earliest convenience.  

Yours,
Lady Guinevere Volant

With every word read Delani felt the glass of reality start to chip and crack. Veins of doubt and disbelief spindled over its surface and her composure grew less and less stable with each word passed. Her insides twisted and coiled, tying itself up in knots that she knew she would never be able to loosen again. The dark shroud that had been starting to cast over her now consumed her to her entirety. Delani’s hands were shaking, her entire body was vibrating. Horror and disbelief were vying for dominance in her gut.

If this correspondence was true then her clan was… gone?

Gone.

They were gone. Her people. Her home. Gone. Just like that.

Her breaths were coming to her with more effort now as she struggled to stay calm. Cullen, who had been reading the message over her shoulder, placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into his chest. His warmth should have thawed her, his presence should have been reassuring to her, but all Delani could feel was numb.

The silence in the room was heavy, a thousand pound beast that could turn aggressive at any moment. Delani could feel their gazes on her, could sense them anticipating her reaction to the news. When none was forthcoming Josephine and Leliana both shifted their weight, not daring to break the silence and prod a reaction from her.

This was not happening. This could not be happening.

Furious with Josephine for daring to jest about this, Delani spat out her accusation with a venom reserved for her enemies. “You’re lying.”

The ambassador’s eyes had become misty. Her chin trembled and she shook her head. When Josephine spoke her voice cracked. “I am so sorry, Inquisitor.”

Delani shook her head, rejecting Josephine’s plea. “This isn’t happening,” she ground out.

Looking back down at the message, Delani reread the words another time. With each reiteration the words made less and less sense. How could this have happened? They’d tried to handle the situation at Wycome peacefully. Against all of her instincts she had sent diplomats instead of soldiers. Delani had tried to avoid bloodshed, she’d wanted to spare as many lives as possible. And this was the result of that effort? The massacre of an entire clan, of her clan?

Creators, this wasn’t happening.

… This has all been branded a tragic misunderstanding, and the nobles who now rule Wycome insist that they will repay the Inquisition for this horrible mistake…

A tragic misunderstanding… The murder of her people was a because of a misunderstanding? The lives of the elven alienage were lost over a misunderstanding? A misunderstanding that should have been avoided because Delani had sent an envoy to stop this very thing from happening?

No. Delani refused to believe it.

Her eyes sharpened as she regarded the Antivan woman. Growling from someplace deep in her chest, Delani snarled, “Tell me that you are lying, Josephine.” Rage was growing rapidly inside of her. The  parchment in her grasp was tearing under the pressure of her fist and she waved it at Josephine, demanding that the woman give her a proper explanation as to what had actually happened in Wycome, what fate had truly befallen her people. “Tell me that this is nothing more than a thoughtless jest.”

When the other woman tightened her lips, her expression twisting with regret and sorrow, Delani shouted loud enough to cause the others to flinch away from her volume. “Tell me, Josephine!”

She shook her head and her voice trembled. “I can’t,” she croaked before biting down on her bottom lip, clamping her eyes shut, and sending a trail tears to course down her cheeks.

Heaving each breath into her now, Delani let Josephine’s words settle in her stomach. Josephine couldn’t tell Delani that she was lying, because she wasn’t. The letter was not some poorly conceived, ill-thought prank. It was real. This was real. This was happening.

No. Delani’s mind started to fracture. The cracking glass of reality was shattering. Her whole world was falling to pieces. No. Creators, no.

“So my people…” she started, breathless under the growing weight and realization of all that she had lost. “The women, the children… my mother…”

In a small, soundless voice Josephine confirmed, “They’re gone.”

Cullen’s grip on Delani’s shoulders tightened, his intent was to comfort her, but Delani would never know the meaning of the word again. Shaking his grip from her shoulders with a shrug, she stepped away from him and the moment that she severed contact the world was lost. Realization hit her like a fresh wave, socking her in the gut, ripping her heart out from her chest and threatening to withhold it for the rest of time.

Blackness was spreading through her. A disease, a pestilence, anger and bitterness accompanying its inky shadow. This was her fault. She had trusted the lives of her people to shemlan and this was the result. They were gone. They were all gone because humans did not know the meaning of the word peace.

To herself she stated, “I try to be diplomatic with you people and this is your response?” When she looked up it wasn’t her advisors she was seeing in the war room. All she saw were three humans. Murderers. How could they have done this to her people? Clan Lavellan had only been trying to help Wycome. Her mother had only been trying to assist a city that had been in such desperate need of it. And this was her repayment.

Dragging her fingers through her auburn hair, Delani tugged on the strands and a sob racked through her. “To kill my entire clan, to steal from me the only family that I have left?” She absently reached for the edge of the war table, needing it to hold up herself up. Without it she would double over, her pain would be too much. It already was.

Unable to see past the thick film of tears covering her eyes, Delani seethed, “You are savages.”

“Delani,” the voice who spoke was masculine, familiar, registering in some distant part of her mind. But she couldn’t recognize anything other than her pain, the only thing she could stand to acknowledge was the rage swiftly slipping from her control.

In quiet warning, Delani said, “Give me the room.”

Cullen took a step in her direction and Delani screamed, “GIVE ME THE FUCKING ROOM!”

They filed out quickly, leaving her to her anger. She felt Cullen’s gaze on her as he lingered by the door. She could feel the sorrow emanating off of him, but she couldn’t pay attention to that now. All she had the mind to focus on was the fact that she had trusted the lives of her people to the hands of humans and now they were all gone. Delani needed to be alone.

When she turned her back to him, Cullen left without a word and shut the door behind him. Once she was alone, Delani’s shoulders sagged. The full weight of her loss came crashing down on her and her knees buckled. Delani collapsed, still clinging to the table’s edge, trying to support herself against this force swallowing her up. But it was for naught, why should she have even bothered? Her clan was gone. Her family was dead. Her mother was forever taken from this world over a ‘misunderstanding’.

Sobs wracked through her body. Tears stabbed her eyes as they poured out of her like freely flowing water rapids. Delani felt like she was going to vomit, but only dry heaves punched out of her. Delani was being beaten senseless, brutalized by an overwhelming sense of loss she had thought that she’d be lucky enough to never know.

This happened to other clans. Countless numbers of Dalish were massacred this way, slaughtered by humans who thought that they had just cause… A tragic misunderstanding… The unrestrained murder of an entire people… A tragic misunderstanding… a mistake that nobles were going to pay off in gold, like they always did. They were going to throw money at the Inquisition, at her, and hope that it would resolve the problem.

What were the lives of her people worth? One hundred and ninety eight sovereigns? A piece of gold for every life in her clan. Like they were little more than animals, livestock, regarded as even less in life.

This happened to other clans, it was not supposed to happen to hers. She was the Herald of Andraste, that should have meant something to these shemlan. It should have protected her people from their ignorance. But it hadn’t… she hadn’t protected them… She’d been off fighting for the Chantry, fighting for the same humans that killed her people. She had done this to them. This was her fault.

Rage filled her. Her tears burned with her fury. Her breaths were strained with her anger. Delani pulled herself back onto her feet and clung to the war table so fiercely that the color had drained from her knuckles. She had failed her clan, and now she was alone.

Filled with righteous fury, Delani screamed at the top of her lungs and flipped the heavy table over. The clamor in the war room was loud as she continued to destroy everything she could get her hands on.

They had taken everything from her.

Mamae, she thought of the mother that she would never see again. Ir abelas, mamae. Ven dareth na uth shiral.

Cullen cringed at the sounds coming from the war room. Glass was crashing, wood was breaking, and Delani had not stopped screaming since she had started. His heart ached for her. How badly he wanted to go in there, to grab her amidst the turmoil and hold her to his chest. Though he did not feel her loss as keenly as she did, he was also struggling with the news they had come home to.

Her clan was gone. Her people, her family, her mother, they were all gone. He couldn’t begrudge her for wanting to vent her emotions in privacy, but she needed him, and he needed her. If they were going to make it through this it had to be together.

Another crash sounded from the war room, and Josephine flinched from the sound as though it had been a physical blow. Her face was buried in her hands and she too was crying. Josephine’s shaky voice was muffled through the cracks in her hands. “She’s never going to forgive me,” she sobbed.

Josephine looked miserable, each crash of one more thing being broken made her fold over herself. The tears had not stopped streaming from her eyes, the twin rivers were constantly flowing as she cried. But it was not Josephine’s sadness that troubled him.

At the sound of what Cullen imagined to be a wine bottle connecting with the wall, followed by a string of unintelligible of Elvish curses, Josephine jumped from where she was leaning atop her desk. She pressed her hand to her mouth and peered toward the door leading to the war room.

“She’s never going to trust me again,” the Antivan woman lamented. Shaking her head, she blinked and a fresh stream of tears fell from her bloodshot eyes. “I told her not to respond with force. I insisted that we could end this peacefully.”

Burying her face in her hands again, Josephine cried, “Her clan is dead and it’s because of me.”

Cullen’s gaze went from the door to the woman hunched over in front of him, bawling her eyes out as guilt and regret ran ramped through her. As much as he wanted to be inside of the war room to help Delani through this hardship, he knew that he would not be welcome back in there. Delani needed to be alone, and he needed to respect that. Josephine’s upset was much less volatile, and the ambassador was more inclined to welcome his efforts.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, hoping that the contact would be enough to calm her tears. Softly he reminded her, “It is because of misinformed bigots and racists that her clan is dead, Josephine. You couldn’t have known that this would have happened.”

His gaze returned to the door and he absently finished his thought. “No one could have anticipated this.”

Pulling her face from her hands, Josephine looked up at Cullen with misery in her eyes and observed, “You did.”

With a shake of his head, he gently corrected her, “Never in a thousand years would I have predicted something like this.”

Quietly, Josephine whispered to herself, “She hates me now. I know she does.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Josephine,” Cullen returned his attention to the distressed woman still leaning on her desk. Her face was red and swollen from crying, her eyes were glistening with tears still left unshed. Even as he said the words Cullen wasn’t entirely certain of their credibility. Delani’s emotions were uncontrollable and unpredictable at the moment. When things cooled down, Cullen was sure that Delani would see reason. He knew that Delani would understand that Josephine had only suggested what she thought was right.

Knowing that Josephine needed to hear the reassurances for herself, he continued, “She doesn’t blame you. You were just doing your job. You advised on the course of action that you thought was best. The only ones to blame are those blasted nobles.”

All of a sudden the crashing and screaming coming from the war room came to a stop. Silence stretched out, ominous and terrible, a thousand times worse than the ruckus that had preceded it. Both his and Josephine’s gaze snapped to the door and they held their breaths as they waited for something to happen, for anything to happen.

The minutes that followed felt like an eternal stretch of time. When the door from the hall to Josephine’s office opened, Delani quietly emerged. Her long auburn hair was mussed from running crazed hands through it. Her features were swollen from anguished tears, her green eyes were surrounded by a red that brightened their color. When Delani glanced over at them she appeared lost, uncertain of who they were or where she was. Without acknowledging either of them, she left Josephine’s office with quick strides that betrayed the emotions still ravaging inside her.

As he and Josephine watched Delani leave, the Antivan woman’s voice shook with certainty and dread when she said, “She’s going to kill them, Cullen. You know she will.”

In her current state anything was possible, but Cullen still shook his head. “She won’t,” he stated with a conviction he didn’t feel. “I won’t let her.”

Moving his gaze back onto Josephine, he offered the ambassador an encouraging look before taking a step toward the door. “My apologies, Josephine, I have to go check on Delani.”

“Go,” Josephine agreed, wiping the remaining moisture from her face. Voice shaking with tears, she stated, “You’re the only way that she’s going to make it through this.”

He nodded once in farewell before turning on the ball of his foot and racing out of Josephine’s office. Once in the great hall he looked from the door to their chambers to the Keep’s exit. There were one of two places that Delani would go. Either she would seek out the privacy of their room, or the comfort of her mount. Typically he was better at guessing where she’d run, but the situation was different now.

When a group of nobles saw him hesitating, they guessed at his purpose and pointed toward the door to their chambers. Cullen nodded at them in gratitude before kicking down the door and bolting up the stairs. There was an urgency to his steps that he couldn’t fight. Instinct was warning him that Delani should not be alone for greater reasons than her simply needing him.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he quickly reached the catwalk connecting to the door of their room only to find Cole pacing down its length. The boy’s thin legs kept moving, like an agitated wild cat, he paced back and forth, quietly muttering to himself.

Surprised to see him outside of their bedroom, Cullen greeted the boy with a question in his voice, “Cole?”

“She hurts,” the boy absently replied. His words were not for Cullen, they were for himself as he tried to sift through and understand the emotions storming up inside of Delani. It seemed the only time Cole was able to get proper a read on her was when her emotional state was so far beyond her control that she was projecting them outward like a beacon.

Still pacing the catwalk, Cole continued, “A black chasm tearing through her chest like the Void. Hate where love once was. Anger burning like a destructive fire. Death would be better than this. Falon’Din, take this pain. Take me to them. Out of control. Deaf to this world. The cold winter wind is the only thing that feels right. She’s not ready. This hurt is too great.”

Cullen ground his teeth as he struggled between shouldering past Cole and going straight for Delani, or trying to use the boy to gauge what her next move would be. Hurriedly he asked, “Will she see reason, Cole?”

The boy stopped pacing. His haunted grey eyes met and held Cullen’s gaze and he asked, “Would you?”

No. If it were Cullen in Delani’s place he doubted that reasonable would have been an applicable term to describe what he was feeling. With nothing left to discuss with the boy, he abandoned the conversation and stormed up the stairs to their chambers.

It was cold in their room. Winter’s chill welcoming him in bitter greeting as he climbed the last steps. Once he was in their quarters he immediately noticed the open balcony doors. Snow was flurrying into the room. The fabric of the canopy draped over their bed was fluttering wildly as a frigid wind tore through the open doors. The fire burning in the hearth struggled to combat the biting wind and snow. It took a quick scan to confirm that Delani wasn’t inside of their room before Cullen rushed toward the balcony.

His heart stopped in his chest, his breath catching in his throat, at the sight of Delani standing precariously on the balcony’s railing. Snow blasted around her silhouette and into their bedroom. Her arms were spread as she embraced the winter wind, welcoming the cold as she would one of her kinsmen. Horror turned Cullen’s blood to ice. Not daring to call out to her and accidentally send her toppling, he stepped up to the railing and quickly hooked an arm around her waist before yanking Delani off of the ledge.

She struggled in his arms, fighting for freedom, but Cullen didn’t let her go until she was safely in their room and the doors to the balcony were sealed shut. When he finally released her from his protective grasp, Delani jumped away from him with a growl. All he could do for a moment was stare at her, terror coursing through him at the thought of what might have happened if he had been a second too late. Would Delani have done it? Would she have stepped off of the railing? The thought was too painful to bear.

“Maker’s breath, Delani,” he panted, his heartbeat was wild against his rib cage and his breaths were strained by the tightness in his chest. He had almost lost her. A few more seconds and Maker only knew what might have happened next.

Her hands were in her hair and she began to pace the room. “They’re dead,” she whispered to herself, not even acknowledging his presence in the room anymore. With a trembling voice Delani said, “They are all dead. My whole clan, the women, the children, my mother…”

“Delani,” he took a tentative step toward her, reaching out to pull her into his embrace. Words seemed impossible, nothing he said would ever be sufficient, but Cullen tried anyway. “I am so sorry.”

When he was close enough, Cullen gently grabbed Delani by the shoulders and wrapped her up in his arms. Still in the cloak he’d worn while traveling, the furs closed around her and cocooned her in his warmth. Delani didn’t react to his embrace, just stood stiffly against his chest as he rubbed her back.

Her voice was dangerously level when she remarked, “They were slaughtered, Cullen.” Her breaths were coming to her with more force now as her emotions started to climb again. Placing her hands on his chest she shoved herself out of his arms and backed away several steps. Her absent gaze was staring past him, only seeing all of the possible horrors that could have befallen her people.

“They were killed in the streets like dogs.” After a second anger pinched her features. Her thick auburn eyebrows furrowed and a snarl twisted her lips. Her sea green eyes were filled with fury, hatred, and promises to respond to the violence against her clan with action. “That’s all that we are to you people, no better than dogs. Worse than even that. Not even dogs suffer the way that my people do.”

Recognizing that the path her thoughts were following was a dangerous one, Cullen tried to remind her whose feet she should have been placing her blame. “Josephine didn't kill your people, ma atishan. I did not kill your people. We're not just shemlan were your friends.”

She shook her head, a refusal to recognize his words as true or to be swayed by them. “Can shemlan and elvhen be friends?” asked Delani, voice filled with doubt, eyes filled with the restless flames of outrage. “I had once hoped, but now I can see now way.“

“Delani—“

Sea green eyes suddenly snapped into focus and Delani met Cullen’s uncertain gaze with dawning realization in her features. She raked a shaking hand through her hair and secured it to the back of her neck. With a shake of her head she whispered, “Why am I here?”

Confused and concerned by her question, Cullen asked, “What?” and hoped against hope that she would clarify.

“What am I still doing here?” Delani started moving. She circled around the room, picking things up as she went. First it was her pack, then provisions for travel, followed by a change of clothes, and sturdy leather armor. As she worked, she reminded them both that, “The reason I joined the Inquisition was to protect my people, to make sure that they survived the very fate I sentenced them to. And now they're gone. They're all gone. Even the children.”

Delani furiously shook her head. With every word her movements turned more and more aggressive, the seal containing her rage thinning as she gave the fate of her clan heavier thought. “Over what, a misunderstanding? My entire clan was murdered over a misunderstanding? Why am I here? What am I still doing here?”

In addition to his earlier confusion and concern, Cullen was now also feeling dread and uncertainty. Delani was packing. She was planning on leaving. Where was she going? What would she do? Would she return? The lack of precise answers to any of his concerns made his heart hammer loudly in his ears. Cullen couldn’t be without Delani and, despite her current state, he knew that she needed him just as badly. He couldn’t let her leave. Cullen couldn’t chance losing her now.

“Delani,” his voice was pleading when he asked, “What are you doing?”

Without looking up at him, or answering his question, she said, “I need you to get Solas.”

Solas? What could she possibly want with man at a time like this? “Why are you packing?” he asked, following her as she crossed the room to rummage through her pilfered collection of grenades and potions. When his question went unanswered he ventured onto the next one, “Where are you going?”

Shoving the items into her quickly filling pack, Delani finally spared him a response. “I’m going to Wycome,” she said. Still refusing to meet Cullen’s gaze, she explained, “Solas will help me to see the memories of what happened to my clan.”

Desperately reaching for anything that might make her stay for even a moment longer, Cullen stated, “We just got home, Delani.”

She pinned him with a furious glare. “My family is dead, Cullen. My clan. Are you truly asking me to stay?”

Cullen stared at Delani, his mind working as he decided on his next move. Somehow he knew that whatever he allowed to happen next would be a defining moment in their relationship. One misstep now and he would lose her forever.

“I’m coming with you,” he stated, his mind made.

He knew that if he let her go without him there was a possibility that she would never return. Why would she? The reason she had joined the Inquisition had been slaughtered in the streets of Wycome. Cullen would not survive without her, there was but only one solution that kept them together.

“No,” Delani argued, shaking her head, adamant about leaving him behind. “You have to stay here, where you belong.”

That was a blow better felt than any blade could ever cause. Setting his jaw, Cullen raised his chin, resolute. He would not be swayed. “Where I belong is at your side,” and that was where he would stay, whether or not he was welcome.

Delani glared at him, wanting to argue with him. But with a heavy sigh and a shake of her head, she dropped the argument. She didn’t have the energy for this battle, and she had learned to choose them wisely. “Fine,” she glowered at him. “Get Solas and prepare our mounts. We leave within the hour.”

Backing away slowly toward the stairs, Cullen watched Delani as she continued to pack. No longer was she handling her belongings, she was now packing theirs. She had agreed that he could come, and Cullen would happily accept the victory. Losing Delani was not an option. He would fight for her until his dying breath, even if it was her he had to fight.

With his hand on the banister, Cullen said, “I love you, Delani.”

Her shoulders stiffened. Without looking at him, she replied, “Just go, Cullen,” and ripped his heart right from his chest.

Losing her clan had changed her, and all Cullen could do was hope that it hadn’t changed how she felt about him as well. Bowing his head to hide the tears brimming in his eyes, Cullen left their chambers in search of the apostate.

Chapter Text

A gentle breeze drifted across the scape, keeping the temperature cool and comfortable. Though winter raged on in the south, the Free Marches did not suffer its effect as severely. The climate was suitable for travel during the day and chilled significantly at night, and that was by far the only pleasant thing about their trek. Sometimes even the scenery left something to be desired.

Cullen adjusted his position atop his mount, shifting his weight to relieve the pressure on his tail bone. The obsidian colored war horse kept to a trot as they progressed through the countryside. A hart with a healthy blue coat kept pace beside him. The air around Solas was thoughtful as Cullen gave the apostate a sidelong glance.

He watched the male elf for a moment as their mounts continued forward. He was still undecided on whether or not his presence was a welcome one. On one hand, Cullen still felt slighted over the fact that Delani had actively sought out Solas’s company on this venture while she’d tried so hard to send Cullen away. But on the other hand, Delani was ignoring Solas just as much as she was him. They were brothers in bearing Delani’s silence, and for that reason alone Cullen was glad for the other man’s company.

Delani’s muteness was on the verge of driving him mad. Over a week of travel had come and gone, and her vocabulary had consisted of noncommittal grunts and monosyllabic words throughout. The days were tense with her boiling rage and the nights were heavy with irreparable melancholy. Delani was distant and unresponsive to either his or Solas’s attempts at conversation.

Though she never discouraged physical contact with Cullen, she never returned his affections either. She was a thrall, absent vitality or purpose, and the loss of the laughter in her sea green eyes was one most keenly felt. Even when he rode alongside her, Cullen missed the woman that he loved, and desperately wanted the part of her so full of life and mischief that had died with her clan to return.

She wasn’t even with them. Delani had heard Cullen’s stomach growl its vacancy and she’d leapt at the excuse to abandon their company. With the instructions of staying their course, she had disbanded from their group in search of something to eat and hadn’t been swayed by either his nor Solas’s discouragements. She’d left them a little over an hour ago and if it wasn’t an already accepted part of their traveling routine, Cullen would have allowed himself to feel the full extent of his worry.

Sensing where Cullen’s thoughts had drifted, Solas reassured him with an unprompted, “She’ll return, Commander. She always does.”

“I know,” he replied with more conviction than he felt. Glowering out at the horizon, he raked his nails through his hair all the way to his neck where he started to rub the tension that had accumulated there. Cullen ground his teeth to keep the worry from his voice and stated, “But what if she encounters bandits or highwaymen?”

“Then I feel sorry for any fools who dare cross her path,” Solas scoffed at Cullen’s needless concern.

Cullen was dissatisfied with the apostate’s reply. He’d almost lost Delani to bandits before; if anything were to happen to her now… “I’m going to look for her,” he said as he pulled his horse’s reins until the mount stalled to a stop. “It’s been too long already.” The war horse shifted from hoof to hoof as if projecting Cullen’s uncertainty and discomfort.

The look that Solas gave him was understanding even if it was also verging on impatient. He too pulled his mount to a stop and turned the hart to face Cullen. “I advise against that, Commander,” he said before reminding him, “You know that the Inquisitor wants her space.”

Frowning at the male elf, Cullen muttered, “I think she’s had enough space.” He moved his gaze out onto the landscape around them, hoping to find Delani already on her way toward them. When there was nothing but tall grass and blue skies he let out a sigh heavy with disappointment. Delani was a hunter well trained in covering her tracks. If she didn’t want to be found she never would be; he’d accepted that a very long time ago.

He was trying to be understanding. Maker knew how hard Cullen was trying to be everything that Delani needed him to be, but there was only so much that he could take. Each time Delani brushed off his concern, shut him out, or flinched away from his touch, she pushed him closer and closer to the breaking point.

All he wanted was to support the woman he loved in her time of need, and she rejected his every attempt. Cullen felt useless and it was driving him insane.

The fear that maybe he and Delani would not make it past the loss of her clan pushed Cullen to do something he’d never thought he would do. He was going to discuss his fears with Solas, or else his thoughts would continue to tear him up inside.

Lips thinning into a tight line, Cullen wrangled his thoughts and feelings together and tried to mash them into a cohesive sentence that Solas would understand. It was a difficult task, especially considering the fact that not even Cullen truly knew how to articulate the storm he was weathering inside. With a flick of his wrists he instructed his steed to march forward again and, as he passed, Solas moved his hart to accompany his casual pace.

Speaking only loud enough for Solas to hear, Cullen started. “Delani’s detachment is beginning to worry me and I haven’t the slightest idea what I can do to help her endure this loss.”

Beside him, Solas bowed his head as he thought. The male elf’s ears twitched at the sounds of wildlife chirping around them and flicked slightly as he considered Cullen’s words. After a moment, the other man replied, “The Inquisitor has endured loss before, Commander,” reminding him of the time she’d shared her father’s death with him.

Cullen’s hand went to the carving knife he had secured to his belt. He stared down at the worn leather handle for a moment and remembered the story of how she’d gotten it. The small blade had belonged to her father, and he had pressed it into Delani’s hands just before his final breaths with the promise that, as long as she had it, his spirit would be there to protect her. Delani had explained to him how much she’d loved her father, how destroyed she had been after witnessing him die in her arms. If this was to be Solas’s reassurance then the man obviously did not know the full story.

“When Delani's father died her laughter died with him. She mourned him for ten years,” Cullen explained, remembering when she’d told him how everything had changed for her in wake of her father’s absence. Even Keeper Milathara had explained to Cullen how drastically Delani had changed upon her father’s death. It had taken joining the Inquisition, and the subsequent life altering events thereafter, for her to return to her old ways. Ten years was a long time to grieve, a long time to be disconnected and detached from feelings of warmth and love. And that time of mourning had been for just one man.

Cullen gripped the knife’s hilt tighter as he considered all that Delani had lost in Wycome. “Her entire clan was murdered, along with her mother.” If ten years had been spent feeling sorrow over her father, how long would Delani allow herself to hide behind the impregnable emotional walls she’d built up around herself this time? His heart clenched at the thought that maybe this was not something that she would ever allow herself to move past.

Quietly he stated, “It would be foolish to hope that this time will be different.”

“It is different,” Solas assured him. When Cullen looked up from the carving knife to meet the apostate’s gaze, the other man offered him a soft and encouraging smile before adding, “This time she has you.”

His lips twisted with uncertainty. Cullen wasn’t so sure that he would be enough. He certainly hadn’t been thus far and he did not see that changing soon. For all of his attempts to be Delani’s strength, he had been met with nothing but a cold wall of disinterest and apathy. She wanted nothing to do with him or his comfort. Delani’s only interest was in getting to Wycome.  Beyond that he hadn’t the slightest idea what was going on inside of her mind and it was a contributing factor to Cullen’s deteriorating state of level-headedness.

Though it was true that Delani had Cullen, had his support, his love, anything that she needed, it did not mean that she wanted any of it. Delani wanted to endure this alone, and it was tearing Cullen apart inside to give her the amount of space she demanded.

A sigh parted Solas’s lips as he recognized that his reassurances had fallen on deaf ears. Tone stern with conviction, he reminded Cullen that, “She is grieving.” He held Cullen’s gaze as their mounts continued down the worn dirt road. He was patient as he offered, “Let us make this journey so that her wound may begin to heal. Don't lose hope, Commander. Delani's laughter is not dead, only forgotten. You will help her remember.”

How would Cullen do that if she wouldn’t dare open up to him? Cullen couldn’t help someone who did not want to be helped and, the way things stood, he hadn’t an inkling of what Delani wanted beyond vengeance.

“Just give her time,” said Solas. “A bone must be reset before it can properly heal.”

With his heart in his stomach, Cullen realized that even though he had hope, he didn’t think that Solas was right about this. Delani had turned her back on him. She’d reconstructed and reinforced the wall that hadn’t been there since the beginning of their relationship. She did not want his support. She did not want him, and nothing destroyed Cullen more than the thought that he’d lost her to something so far beyond the reach of his control.

He allowed the conversation to die and for silence to re-accompany them on their journey. There was nothing left to say and Cullen was not in the mood to play at conversation, not when his mind was so heavily burdened with what might become of the one thing he treasured above all else in this life.

Reclusing further into his thoughts, Cullen paid little attention to his surroundings as they continued to trudge along the countryside. Delani would return when she returned, and worrying after her was only making him sick to his stomach. She did not care about his concern anyhow. He had to focus on something else, lest he’d drive himself mad.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before the sound of hooves galloping over dirt and stone registered in his ears and pulled his attention over his shoulder to find the source of the noise. Judging by the sun’s placement in the skies overhead, nearly another hour had gone by before Delani decided to return to them.

With a tug on his stallion’s reins, Cullen pulled the steed to a stop before dismounting from the horse and guiding it a few steps off of the road. Solas followed Cullen’s lead and they both awaited Delani on the roadside. His chest constricted and his stomach, already coiled up with the dozens of knots he’d collected on this voyage, twisted up some more at the sight of Delani as she neared them.

Her clothes were speckled with blood splatter and her upper lip was cut. The closer she rode the clearer it was to see the steel in her sea green eyes. Delani had been in a fight, she had been triumphant, and now Cullen had a thousand more questions to add to the growing pile that would likely never receive answers. Who or what had she fought, over what, what had happened, and had Delani even tried to avoid the situation from turning violent?

Her thick auburn eyebrows furrowed as she neared them. The hart she rode was a noble beast, his coat darker and thicker than Cornelius’s hide. Its antlers reached outward in a design that was almost threatening in its beauty. With a thick chest and strong muscles that visibly shifted under the healthy shine of its coat, the beast was simultaneously awe-inspiring and intimidating, and the breed’s name of Pride of Arlathan suddenly made perfect sense.

Cullen remembered the day she’d purchased the hart. When Delani had given the mount the name of Hellathen he doubted that she’d have guessed that she would one day be riding atop his back on a excursion of this nature.

“Why have you stopped?” Delani demanded as she threw her leg around the hart’s saddle and leaped off its back. Her suspicious gaze scanned over the horizon looking for the threat that must have prevented them from continuing onward. When she found no such threat her narrowed eyes stabbed into Cullen, ordering him to answer her.

Instead of supplying her with a response, Cullen cut the distance between them and gently cupped her face in his hands. Turning her face over so that he could see the bruise darkening along the line of her jaw, he made his own demand. “What in the Maker’s name happened?”

She twisted out of his grasp, her expression tight with impatience. “Nothing,” she growled, her voice heavy with a warning he was going to ignore.

“Delani,” he stated, disappointed that she would try to not only avoid his question but lie her way out of it as well. Gesturing at her clothing, he pointed out, “You’re covered in blood.”

Behind him, Solas interjected, “Lethallan, all we want to know is whether or not we should expect an angry mob to be chasing after you.”

Cullen’s gaze remained solely trained on Delani. No, that wasn’t the only thing that they wanted to know, but it was certainly one of the many questions that needed answering. Staring up at him with cold narrowed eyes, Delani tensed her jaw as she waited for Cullen to say something. She was expecting him to agree with Solas in thinking that she’d gone out in search of trouble.

When he deferred to her tactics of communication, Delani answered his silence by stomping off to her hart and retrieving the fennec carcasses strung up to Hellathen’s saddle. “I was hunting,” she explained, her movements jerky with irritation as she freed the fennecs from their tether. “And I got too close to a mountain lion’s den. She did not take kindly to me being so near to her cubs.”

Cullen watched as she grabbed her mount’s reins and started to guide the hart past the side of the road into the grass. He and Solas exchanged uncertain looks before following after her with their own steeds in tow.

Leading his war horse into the tall grass, Cullen repeated, “A mountain lion,” with enough doubt in his voice for Delani’s shoulders to tense at the sound of it. He couldn’t help the suspicion that was whirling in his gut like swirls of ink in a glass of water. A part of him felt that Delani might have actively searched for a fight, because doing so was a risk to her life and her life no longer mattered.

Cullen’s thoughts forced the memory of Delani standing dangerously on the railing of their balcony to the forefront of his mind’s eye. He remembered how she stood on the banister, arms wide open in welcome of whatever fate would befall her, the wind and snow swirling past her and into their room. Cullen remembered with excruciating vividness how close he’d come to losing her that day. If he hadn’t pulled her from that ledge he shuddered to think what might have become of the woman that he loved.

“Yes,” Delani answered, picking a spot in the middle of the field where a single tree stood as shade from the sun. Tying her hart to a low hanging branch, she then pulled free her carving knife and started to skin the fennecs so that she could hand them over to Solas, who was already starting a small fire to cook the meat once Delani was done with it.

Meeting Cullen’s gaze past her pinched eyebrows, Delani finished, “A mountain lion.”

All he could do for a moment was stare down at her as she turned her attention to skinning their dinner. Cullen was trying, and failing, to get a grasp on his emotions. He was starting to lose the battle against them. He liked to think of himself as a patient man, but Delani’s blatant disregard of him or his feelings was making it increasingly difficult to maintain even a semblance of calm. He was angry at her, and she wouldn’t care even if she knew.

As she and Solas prepared their meal, Cullen crossed his arms over his chest and convinced himself to not lose his head over her behavior. They would talk about what was happening between them, but they would do so in private without the audience currently accompanying them. The discussion that needed immediate attention was how far their journey would take them before dusk.

Walking over to his horse, Cullen rummaged through his saddlebag until he felt the thick texture of his map. He pulled it free and unfolded it as he strode back to his elven companions. Squatting down between them, he spread the map over the ground and pointed to their approximate location.

“We’re here,” he said, indicating to the large expanse of green between Markham and Hercinia. Moving his finger north east a bit, Cullen stated, “Half a day’s ride from here is an inn just east of Hercinia, where we can rest for the evening. If we leave before daybreak tomorrow we should be able to reach Wycome by noon.”

Delani’s attention remained on her task. With the first fennec skinned, spitted, and handed over to Solas to roast over the small fire, she was working on cleaning the second and the only acknowledgement she gave of hearing him was a dissatisfied huff through her nose.

“Noon?” she asked, obviously hoping to get there sooner.

Clenching his teeth, Cullen sucked in a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly. He repeated the action twice more before answering Delani’s question. “We’re making better time than I thought we would, but our mounts are tired and if we push them through the night we risk losing them to exhaustion.” She finally looked up to meet his gaze and Cullen hoped that she could see in his eyes how much she was hurting him. “This is the best course.”

It was Solas who voiced his agreement on the topic. “A sound plan, Commander. We’ll take a much needed rest at the inn and leave for Wycome come morning.”

“If there’s no other way,” murmured Delani as she gave the second fennec over to Solas for him to place over the fire.

Soon the smell of lunch was sufficient distraction to keep Cullen from paying their prolonged silence too much mind. The moment they were done eating they would be on their way again, and would not stop until they’d reached the inn. Even if the silence was far from companionable, he would take it over the bite of Delani’s tone.

Would things be the same between them ever again?

Delani absently watched the flames as they danced. Tones of orange and red moved with purpose, and heat was its song as the fire crackled, popped, and roared with life. It was wild, even while contained. All it would take was a single ember and the whole structure could meet its end. For now the fire was tame and Delani scolded the part of herself that wished that it wasn’t.

“Alright, lethallen,” Solas’s voice broke her thoughts and pulled her attention from the fireplace on to him. He rounded the table where she was seated to sit astride her bench. As he placed down his pack and started to pick through it, he said, “Let us see what we can do about these cuts.”

She turned in her seat to give him easier access to the injuries on her face, and sighed heavily as she waited for the other elf to attend to her. Her gaze flicked over the inn as she waited, taking note of everyone who came in and out of the tavern in search of a hot meal or a bed to rest their heads on. The humans who ran the inn hadn’t given Cullen a hard time about renting the rooms out to them, which was probably why he’d insisted on being the one to do the talking. He didn’t trust Delani not to lose her head, and she couldn’t blame him.

It had been just as Cullen said. After their short break they’d remounted their steeds and started for Hercinia, traveling the distance at a gallop to keep good time. They’d arrived at the inn just after nightfall, and after renting a room out to all of them, Delani had left Cullen and Solas for her rented chambers and the promise of a hot bath.

After washing up and dressing herself in some clean clothes, Delani had dragged herself out of her room, back downstairs, and found herself a table to wait for her companions like they’d requested. Her limbs were sore from the long and still unfinished journey, and her stomach was too tied up in knots for her to keep any amount of food down. What little she ate was consumed for the sake of preventing her companions from worrying after her any more than they already were. So far it was the only show she’d been able to put on.

Delani couldn’t pretend to be anything other than angry. For all of Cullen and Solas’s attempts at polite conversation or friendly concern, the only thing that Delani could feel inside of her was an ever-growing, constant, overwhelming rage. It was a continuous battle with herself to not turn her daggers at anything and everything that so much as looked at her the wrong way.

How many times throughout their journey had Delani wanted to punch Solas square in the face, or slap away Cullen’s hands when he touched her? Too many to count, and she hated it. Neither of them had done a single thing to deserve her anger, and yet it was all she felt.

Delani hated that she was behaving like this. She hated that no matter how many times she told herself to calm down, to rein in her anger and welcome the concern of those who cared about her, fury still dominated every part of her being. It was hurting Cullen. She wasn’t blind, Delani knew what she was doing to him, and still all she could bring herself to feel was rage.

It was easy to be angry. It was so unbelievably easy to hate everyone around her for  the simple crime of existing. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t done anything to deserve her ire. The only thing that mattered was that Delani was furious and her anger had no outlet.

Solas turned back around with a balm ready in his hand. Dipping two fingers into the greenish colored paste, he started with the cut on her lip before moving onto the rest of her injuries. “So,” he said, his gaze on his task as his voice broke the silence between them. “I'm sensing some tension between you and the Commander.”

Her jaw tightened at the mention of Cullen, and Solas’s gaze flashed up to look her in the eye for a moment. Solas was sensing tension was he? How terribly observant. Thank the pantheon that she'd brought Solas along. Who else would she have been able to rely on to point out the obvious if not him?

When all she did was turn her eyes away from him in response, Solas pressed the topic further. Voice quiet, bordering on cautious as he spoke, he wondered, “You still love him, do you not?”

Feeling the ever-present storm raging inside of her grow in intensity, Delani replied with a warning in her voice. “I am not having this discussion with you, Solas.” And even as she said the words she knew in her gut that the man would not listen. Of course Delani loved Cullen, that would never be untrue. The sun would cease to shine before she stopped loving that man.

But love was simply not an emotion that she was able to get in touch with at the moment. Blinding rage was all she knew.

The male elf gave her a disappointed look, and the expression on his sharp features was like attempting to put out a barn fire with buckets filled with oil. Solas was judging her, how very surprising. It was his favorite pastime after all.

“Why not?” he asked. “I am your friend. You would not have asked me to accompany you otherwise.” Again his attention returned to the cuts on her face as he continued to speak. “And as your friend I think you should allow the Commander to help you endure this tragedy. You cannot hide behind the horrors that have happened to our people. You do not have to go through this alone.”

Her heart skipped a beat before picking up in her chest. “Our people,” she repeated, feeling the heat inside of her grow with each palpitation in her chest. Soon her vision was rimmed with red and Delani curled her fingers into tight fists that she kept at her sides to prevent from hurling them at Solas’s face.

“Our people?” With her eyebrows furrowed and her lip pulled back into a snarl, Solas backed up an inch or two as Delani heaved breath after breath into her lungs to maintain even a veneer of calm. It was a battle she was losing. Solas had overstepped, and she was going to make sure he did not make the same mistake twice.

Staring him in the eye, she demanded, “How dare you? You, the man who refuses to even identify as elvhen, who has said to my face that I am not one of his people. Suddenly they are our people? How very convenient it must be to be able to pick and chose when it is appropriate to be an elf.”

“Delani, I only meant—“

“You are not my people,” she clarified for him, in case there was any doubt. “My people are dead, slaughtered by humans who couldn’t care less about the life of a knife ear. My mother was my people and she was murdered in cold blood because she was trying to help a city who considers us savages.”

Holding Solas’s surprised gaze, Delani seethed, “Make no mistake, the only reason that you are here is because I cannot witness what happened without you. Call us friends if you’d like, but my people are gone and you were never one of them.”

For a moment all Solas could do was gape at her, his eyes wide with shock and insult. It was the most she’d said in one sitting since receiving the news of what had happened to her clan in Wycome. And her words were filled with such hate and rage that Solas had to blink several times before he could even bring himself to react.

Snapping his mouth shut, Solas screwed the cap back onto the balm and returned it to his pack. His movements were calm, patient even, as he gathered his things and said, “Your injuries should be completely healed by morning.” He stood from the bench with his pack in hand and parted with a curt, “I will just leave you to your anger then.”

She watched his back as he left only for her gaze to land on Cullen as he approached. Her chest tightened. Creators, no. Delani just wanted a reprieve. She just wanted to go a single night without being poked, prodded, and interrogated about how she was holding up. But most of all, she wanted to go a night without looking into Cullen’s gorgeous amber eyes and seeing how much she was hurting him.

It felt inevitable. Her mood was too foul a creature for her to not unintentionally unleash it upon her loved ones. Apparently she’d lost more than her clan, she’d lost her compassion with them. She was a monster, and now Cullen was inbound to face the beast that she had become.

Delani begged the All-Mother for patience and peace, but Mythal didn’t listen. She never had before. The only god that ever spoke to her spirit was Elgar’nan, and he knew that vengeance was the only acceptable recourse to what happened to her people.

Cullen’s expression was full of concern as he neared her. His voice was gentle, tentative as he asked, “Is everything alright?”

The question stoked the already dangerous flames inside of her, and Delani picked herself off of the bench she was seated on to walk the short distance to the fireplace. Hugging her arms around her chest, she allowed the heat of the fire to warm her up and hoped that it would also help to thaw the ice that had crystallized in her veins. She was tired of hurting Cullen, but it seemed unavoidable. There was only room in her heart for anger, and Cullen was too good a man to be constantly subjected to her indignation.

When her only response to his question was silence, a breath weighted down with irritation and impatience escaped the man behind her. Cullen crossed the space between them and stood beside her in front of the hearth. She could feel his narrowed gaze burning into the side of her face as he said, “Delani, We need to discuss what you plan on doing tomorrow.”

She bristled at the thought. Whatever happened tomorrow would be justice, and that was all that he needed to know. “There’s nothing to discuss,” she muttered, refusing to engage the conversation.

Cullen gave her an incredulous look. “Nothing to discuss,” he repeated before stating, “You can’t be serious.”

The sidelong glance she gave him made it perfectly clear exactly how serious she was.

“How about the lives of the nobles who—“ he started to supply only for Delani to cut him off.

Her tone was sharp when she interjected. “Everything will be dealt with, Cullen,” she assured him, her lips twisting with the bitter taste of hatred that filled her mouth. “Especially those nobles.”

“But how,” he insisted, unrelenting in his demands. Try though he might to be supportive of Delani, it didn’t change the fact that he commanded the Inquisition’s forces. Cullen had a military mind, and he needed her to tell him her strategy.

The problem was that Delani had none. “I haven’t yet decided,” she admitted. Tapping her fingers on her bicep, Delani turned her pointed gaze onto Cullen and searched his golden eyes for the answer to her next question. “What do you think I should do to the animals that massacred my entire clan and called it justice? What do you think an appropriate response to that atrocity would be?”

His eyes narrowed at the obvious desire for violence in her voice. “You are the Inquisitor,” he reminded her. “Your every action is a reflection of the Inquisition.”

Delani snorted, feigning amusement at his retort. It sounded like something that Josephine would say. “And you are the commander of my forces,” she threw right back at him, reminding him of the pecking order their faction followed. Cullen was her subordinate and it appeared that he needed to be reminded of that fact.

“If I decide to bring the holy might of the Inquisition down on these monsters the only response I want to hear from you is how many men and where am I sending them.”

Amber eyes sharpened with insult and pain. Delani had just crossed a line that she should have been more careful about. Something inside of Cullen’s gaze shifted, a protective shield coming up between them that cut off what emotional connection had remained.

His lips thinned and his expression tightened, a darkness shadowing his voice when he asked, “Is that all that you want from me, Delani?  To be your general?”

Returning her gaze to the burning fire, she muttered, “If you can manage it.”

He gripped her by the shoulder and forced her to face him. Even with the protective barrier up between them it was clear to see that her words had cut deeper than she’d intended. Delani had never intended to hurt Cullen at all. She didn’t know what she intended, but if making everyone around her as miserable as she was was her goal, then she was doing a mighty fine job of it.

“Why are you being like this?” Cullen demanded, his expression twisted with the pain she was causing him. When Delani tried to look away he held her by the chin and forced her to hold his gaze. “What have I done to warrant this kind of behavior?”

She swatted his hand from her face and retreated a step back. The anger radiating off of him was overpowering, and Delani recognized too late that she’d finally broken something inside of him. She’d snapped something delicate between them, and Delani couldn’t yet fully grasp how precious that last thing that was theirs was to her until it was gone.

“Cullen—“ she started but this time it was he who interrupted her.

“No,” he bit out. “Tell me, because I am at a loss. I have been nothing but kind to you, supportive and understanding, and this is how you treat me?” Exasperated, Cullen shook his head and furiously insisted, “How much farther did you think you could push me before I finally broke?”

Delani was held prisoner to his gaze, the flames of his anger licking at her flesh and reminding her that it was she who had done this to him. Her mouth opened then closed as she searched for a reply, but found that both her words and her voice had escaped her. Cullen’s anger was well placed and well deserved. She’d done this to him. She’d done this to them.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To push me away?” His questions were met with silence yet again.

No, this was the furthest thing from what Delani wanted, but it was too late to fix it now. All it took was a look into Cullen’s eyes to see that things would never be the same between them again. As his jaw tensed with anger and impatience, she saw all that she had lost flash before her eyes.

He sucked in a deep breath before smoothing his features back out. Cullen's expression was made of stone and steel, hard and unyielding. All the softness, understanding, and sympathy was gone from his features. The only thing that remained was pure and unbending professionalism, and it was a blow to the gut that Delani wasn’t sure that she would ever recover from.

“If you want me to be your general then that is who I will be.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and his stance changed to carry the authority that she’d just demanded of him. “Attacking the nobles of the Free Marches is a tactical pitfall that will cost the Inquisition and all elvhen more than what could possibly be gained. As your general I am telling you that I will not risk the lives of my men over an order that was made with a hot head.” His already narrowed eyes sharpened some more. “As your general I advise you to get some rest. We will be leaving before first light.”

Backing away from Delani, he bowed his head slightly and left her with a biting, “Inquisitor Lavellan.”

She watched his back as he left, her eyes stinging with tears that threatened to well before her vision, tears she refused to let fall. Delani blinked them back and shoved her rioting emotions down. Cullen’s departure had left an emptiness inside of her that made her feel like she was going to be sick.

Fate had taken from her everything that she loved. It seemed only right that she lose the last person to her own shortcomings. Delani had nothing left but her anger and the promise that, come morning, she would finally be able to put it to use.

Chapter Text

Delani’s ears twitched at the sound of a horn blaring in the distance. High over her head a raven cawed as it flew in circles above them. She moved her gaze from the bird to the city walls and murmured, “Seems that we’re expected.”

Distaste was thick on her palate. If Wycome had caught word of her arrival it meant that they’d had time to prepare for her. Her stomach twisted at the thought of what they had done in anticipation of her coming. What lies had they prepared to feed her, what horrors had they covered up to blind her?

The marrow in her bones turned to steel, her insides were harder than diamonds. Her clan would know justice and Wycome would learn the might of the Inquisition. Delani would not play the cat and mouse game of bureaucracy or politics. The time for that had passed with the massacre of her clan.

Rolling her shoulders back, she pressed her heels into Hellathen’s sides and urged the hart forward. She could feel the tension and uncertainty filling the air behind her, emanating from Cullen and blasting from him in torrents. Delani fought the urge to look back at him. There was nothing to be found in those amber eyes but resoluteness and professional disapproval. He had nothing to offer her beyond words of strategy, and the loss of the warmth in his eyes was one that Delani hadn’t the strength to contend with just yet; she doubted that she ever would.

Delani took in a deep breath and marveled at the air so filled with salt. Wycome was a coastal city. It was a fishing center and the largest port authority between the Marches and Rivain. Trade between her clan and the city had always been profitable, even if it had been somewhat tense at times. Clan Lavellan had only ever stayed through the winter season before moving on again, and now it was obvious why. Elves in large numbers made humans uncomfortable, and when humans were uncomfortable there was no limit to horrors that they were capable of.

“Inquisitor,” Cullen’s voice broke the silence as he brought his war horse to ride beside her. Calanhad’s hooves were heavy on the cobblestone road, the clatter of three mounts their march song as they neared their destination. With his gaze trained on the approaching city, he asked again, “What are your plans for once we’ve crossed the gates?”

She gave the man a sidelong glance, feeling a sense of longing in her chest that was quickly eclipsed by fury. Wycome had stolen everything from her, even him. Her gaze followed his. In a few minutes they would be within Wycome and, truth be told, that was the extent of her plan. Delani wanted to make it into the city, and she wanted to witness the memories of what had happened to her people. Only then would she be able to decide what was to follow.

Without looking at Cullen, she answered, “Justice for all elvhen, Commander, in whatever form it takes.” Her voice low with a promise to pay for blood with blood. “That is my plan.”

The sound he made professed that it was not a good enough plan, but he knew that it was all that she would give him. To ask for more was to ask for disappointment, that was all Delani could spare him.

Behind them Solas said under his breath, “What you seek is far from justice, da’len,” loudly enough for Delani to clearly hear. “It is vengeance.”

“Sometimes they are one and the same,” she growled in reply with a finality in her voice that left no room for discussion, and put a quick end to the conversation.

It was a short ride until they reached the city gates where they were met by an entourage led by a dark skinned human woman, dressed in a fine dress that spoke volumes of her station. The smile that the woman greeted them with was nervous. Delani could see the woman’s throat working as she anxiously swallowed from all the way atop her mount’s back.

“Inquisitor Lavellan,” she started, bowing deeply at her waist. “Ambassador Montilyet sent word of your arrival. I am Lady Guinevere Volant, and I’ve been…” she paused to search for the best phrasing applicable, “assisting with maintaining relations between the Inquisition and Wycome.”

Delani gave the woman a critical once over, inspecting her from head to toe and allowing an unimpressed sneer to surface on her lips. Her gaze then moved to the people surrounding Lady Volant. The lack of introduction meant that they were either servants or guards, and not the nobility who now claimed control of Wycome. The new Duke of the city hadn’t thought Delani worth welcoming at his city gates. Either he didn’t think that she was a threat or he didn’t think that, being an elf, Delani would demand the respect of him and his peers. Already they were off to a bad start.

Loudly enough for the woman to hear, she grumbled, “For all the good it’s done,” to which Lady Volant took in a sharp, offended breath.

Dismounting from the hart, Delani kept a firm clutch on Hellathen’s reins as she took in the entrance of the large coastal city. For all of the winters that clan Lavellan had come to do trade with Wycome, Delani never made it further than the entry gates. The clan had always been instructed to stay outside the city walls, that the trade would come to them, and now she couldn’t help but wish that they’d done the same this year.

As Delani took in the tall buildings elegantly constructed from stone and marble, Lady Guinevere Volant nervously wrung her hands and watched Delani with a caution reserved for wild animals. There was even a tremble in her voice when she spoke. “Duke Basilius has prepared accommodations in his personal estate for you and your envoy, Your Worship. If you would please accompany me, I will take you there now.”

“No,” Delani replied, her tone crisp and unbending. She started walking further into Wycome and as she passed Lady Volant, she said, “The only place my companions and I are going is to the  alienage.”

Without looking at the human delegate, Delani dismissed her with the task, “You may inform Duke Basilius that I will call on him when I am ready. Until then, I am not to be disturbed.”

Lady Guinevere Volant looked absolutely horrified by Delani’s words. Delani wanted her to tell the Duke to wait. She’d essentially told Lady Volant to inform the Duke of the dark crevice where he could shove his warm welcome and “hospitality”. Under normal circumstances Delani might have felt bad for putting the woman in such an awkward position. The circumstances being what they were, however, made it so that the only thing that Delani felt was angry.

Solas and Cullen rode quietly behind her, projecting the pretense of a unified force as they started through Wycome. Her gaze was on the city and its inhabitants. Mostly humans wandered the streets, keeping a safe distance from the small, stone faced, Inquisition cortège. Their murmurings rode on the salt laden wind currents all the way to Delani’s ears.

“That’s her,” they whispered to one another, “that’s the Inquisitor.”

“It’s true, the Herald of Andraste is a knife ear!”

“Shame what happened to her clan; they were decent folk.”

Delani mostly ignored them as she strode through the city streets. She hadn’t come for gossip. She had come to make things right. What exactly that meant depended heavily on what she discovered in the alienage.

Their progression was slow as Solas and Cullen rode silently behind her. Delani didn’t need to look back at him to know the furrowed expression that was likely adorned on Cullen’s face. She could feel his gaze burrowing into her back and knew in her gut that his eyes would be filled with doubt. He didn’t yet know whether he could trust her to remain passive to these people, and Delani couldn’t blame him for his uncertainty.

The streets cleared as they made their way through them. People leaped out of Delani’s path as though they might get trampled under the slow moving hooves of their mounts. To her surprise, when another street cleared to make a path, a little boy remained in its center watching their approach.

Judging by his tattered clothes, bare feet, the dirt covering his face, and the oily tendrils of his matted blond hair, it was easy to discern that the human child was a street urchin. Abandoned by both his family and the Chantry, he relied on the streets to fill his belly and, if his skeletal build was to be any indicator, he had gone hungry more nights than he could count.

She slowed to a stop until she was standing before the boy and met his curious blue gaze with interest. The boy could not have been more than six years old, and yet he knew more hardship than any child should ever have to endure. It was no wonder that the nobles of the Free Marches had slaughtered her family; they obviously could not take care of their own. The addition of her clan had been an aggravator to an already flawed system.

Eyebrow quirking as she regarded the child, Delani observed, “You must be Duke Basilius.” She bowed her head in respectful greeting and continued, “You and I have much to discuss.”

A smile expanded over his mouth, revealing a grin absent a few teeth. “I’m not the Duke,” he said, a laugh in his voice that was so innocent in its allocation.

“You aren’t?” Delani replied, pretending to be embarrassed by his mistaken identity. “My apologies, serah. Yours is such a noble gaze that I had just assumed that you were the Duke. Forgive me.”

He hiccuped a laugh and reached out a dirty hand to stroke Hellathen’s nose. Had she been riding Cornelius, Delani would have advised the boy against touching her mount. But Hellathen was much more mild mannered than the red hart. Only mildly curious, Hellathen sniffed the boys hand and huffed indifferently before turning his attention elsewhere as the boy pet his coat.

With his blue gaze focused on the hart, the boy gave Delani a quick sideways glance before asking, “You’re her, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged in answer, “It depends on who you are referring to.”

Finally looking up from Hellathen to meet her gaze, the boy clarified,” The Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste.”

Delani’s jaw tightened at the moniker. What good had either tittle done her or her people? Being the Inquisitor hadn’t protected them. Being the Herald hadn’t saved them from shemlan hands. Andraste and her betrothed were as absent as the gods of her own pantheon. At least the Creators hadn’t had a choice in the matter.

As she regarded the child she knew she couldn’t tell him that his god and His bride did not care for their ‘Herald’, she simply replied, “That is what they keep calling me, but you may call me Delani if you’d like.” The side of her mouth twitched upward with some effort. “What about you? If you are not Duke Basilius then what name should I refer to you by?”

Another toothless grin played on his lips as he answered her. “Jack,” the boy supplied.

“A good name.” Delani held out her hand and waited for the boy to grasp it with his smaller one. Once his fingers were clasped in her palm she gave his hand a gentle shake before stating, “It’s an honor to meet you, Jack.”

She dropped his hand and he returned it to his side, the grin on his lips not budging for a moment until his expression changed with recognition. His wide blue eyes remained on her as he inspected her features closely.

Tilting his head a bit to the side, he commented, “You look like her.”

There was no need for him to clarify his meaning. Delani’s stomach dropped all the way down to her feet, her heart plummeting right along with it. The emotions that were constantly raging in her chest grew louder in their discourse, deafening in her ears as she struggled to maintain a straight face. At her sides, her fingers rolled up into tight fists to disguise the violence with which she was shaking. A mixture of anger and sadness, in all of their variants, were tearing into the lining of her stomach, and Delani thought that she might be sick. Wycome was a tomb and she stood on its grounds wishing not for the first time that it had been her instead of her mother.

Grinding her teeth, She sucked in a series of deep breaths in order to tamp down the riot inside of her. Delani had always thought herself to look more like her father in appearance. She’d been told on a multitude of occasions that she was more akin to her mother, but to hear the words come from the mouth of a child… it caused a guilty pain to pierce through her so deep and its jagged teeth continued to rip her apart.

“You knew my mother,” she asked when she was confident that her voice would not betray her.

Jack nodded, his head bobbing up and down with pride in his admission. “She helped us with those bright red rocks that were in the water and making people sick.” His blue eyes were bright as he recalled the woman taken so violently from Delani’s life. “The hunters helped to keep us safe from Duke Antoine’s men, and she said that I could be a hunter too.”

Rummaging through his pant pocket, the boy pulled free an item from inside and showed the treasure to Delani. Dangling from his dirty fingers was a thin chain with a small copper medallion, halla antlers were molded into the metal along with a bow and arrow. The trinket was of obvious Dalish make, and one she’d seen a hundred times before. They were a common commodity among her clan, easy to come by and easier to make; hardly worth anything at all. But the way Jack was holding the necklace, the care with which handled it, it was his prized possession and Delani wouldn’t take that from him.

His eyes flicked from Delani onto the necklace, and a proud smile shone on his lips with the admission, “She put me on her personal guard and I promised that I would protect her.” Jack’s smile fell. Sadness swam in the depths of his cool blue eyes and Delani felt somewhat connected to the boy by the loss that they now shared. Jack was not one of her people, and he had hardly known her mother, but he had loved Keeper Milathara enough to mourn her passing. He didn’t need to be either Dalish or elven to know that the Keeper’s death was a tragedy beyond repair.

With his downward turned gaze still on the necklace in his grasp, Jack murmured, “I didn’t do a very good job, did I?”

Delani took a knee in front of the boy and tucked a finger under his chin so that he would meet her gaze. When blue eyes met green she offered him a sympathetic smile and quietly stated, “Keeping her safe wasn’t your responsibility.” Gently, she removed the necklace from his hand and looped it around his neck. Adjusting the chain so that the medallion sat over his chest, she offered him a weak smile and the explanation, “It was mine. It has always been my responsibility and if anyone failed her it was me.”

Holding the medallion in her palm to busy herself with examining its craft, Delani’s voice was quiet as she spoke to the boy. “I was her protector for some time. It was my job to keep her and the clan safe.” She closed her fingers around the copper trinket and clasped her eyes shut. The image of her mother splayed over the backs of her eyelids and tears were like pin pricks as they surfaced. With a deep breath, Delani calmed herself again and met Jack’s gaze past a veil of unshed tears.

The smile that awkwardly pulled at her lips was forced, false for the sake of pretense, maintained for the sake of a child. “I failed her and my people,” Delani admitted with a sigh. “I no longer deserve to be called Dalish, nor to be a hunter. If my mother promised you a place in our clan then I offer you mine.”

A small hand found its way on to her shoulder, Jack’s tiny fingers squeezed her with reassurance as his blue eyes shown with a sympathy and understanding beyond his years. “My mamma’s dead too,” he said.

She wasn't sure why his words were so meaningful, so full of depth and consultation. Their differences were beyond counting, but the few similarities they shared were what bound them now. Both she and Jack were orphans, fated to a life without a family or a home. The closest that the boy had gotten to either was through the promise of becoming a hunter. For a moment he had a dream, his young life had purpose, Jack almost had a place, and now all of that was gone; wiped out by men who thought that the death of innocents was justifiable because their ears were misshaped.

An unwieldy smile twitched at the edge of her lips as she regarded Jack. Sighing heavily through her nose, Delani stated, “We’re quite the pair, you and I.” Delani stood to her feet again and reached for the coin purse at her side. With her attention on opening the pouch and fingering through it, she wondered, “Tell me, serah Jack, if I were to grease your palms would you be so kind as to show my companions and me to the alienage?”

She removed five golden coins from her purse and handed them to the boy. He eyed the gold with an expression wide with uncertainty. Surely it was more money than he had ever seen go from a stranger’s hands in to his own. As Delani placed the currency into the boy’s hands, she worried that he might get hurt for having it. Wasn’t he supposed to be taken care of by the Chantry sisters or something?

With his gaze still caught in the shine of gold glowing from his cupped hands, Jack murmured, “This way, missere.”

Delani turned around and clasped Hellathen’s reins again, her gaze momentarily flicking up to her companions to gauge their expressions. Both Cullen and Solas were regarding her curiously, having obviously overheard her with Jack, their facial features were guarded just enough to annoy her. Delani knew that she’d been seething with rage their entire journey to Wycome and, truth be told, that fury had only grown with their arrival, but Jack did not deserve to brunt that anger. He was a child, and even Delani’s anger had boundaries it would not cross.

Returning to the task of ignoring her companions, Delani followed Jack through the city to the alienage. Wycome, for all it’s coastal grandeur and elegance, became less and less impressive the further they walked. Jack led them away from the heart of the city and past the line where the upperclass became poverty stricken. Further they walked, the buildings and their inhabitants showing the wear of neglect, until the smell of destitution was so thick in the air Delani could taste it on her tongue.

They approached a large gate whose strong doors were made from such sturdy material that there was no doubt that the money that had gone into making it could have fed every family in this part of the city for months. Those strong doors were currently sealed shut and guarded. Delani’s brows furrowed as she followed Jack to them. Beyond that guarded entrance was the alienage.

That explained why she’d seen so few elves within the city itself. They were all locked inside of the alienage, caged like animals after being slaughtered in the same fashion. Heat began to build in her chest, her blood bubbling and boiling as she gaped at the gates enclosing the alienage. Delani’s breaths were coming fast now, blasting at her anger like a blowing bellow.

After thanking Jack for his help, dismissing the boy from having to witness what might come next, she dropped Hellathen’s reins and marched over to the guard standing beside the gates. Delani only partially registered the sound of Cullen’s voice calling out to her as he and Solas also dismounted. Attention homed on the human clad in heavy armor, Delani quickly found every single weak point in the armor’s make. His underarms weren’t protected, neither was his groin, and his breastplate only covered the top of his collar bone; leaving the man’s neck open for attack. Her assessment was made in the half second it took for her to get from her mount’s side to the gates.

Standing in front of the human, she glared up at him as though he were to blame for the shut gates he guarded. The rage in her eyes was fierce enough to send him back a step and for a loud gulp to work its way down his throat. She closed the space he had put between them and pulled her upper lip back into a snarl before investigating, “Why are the gates closed?”

Again he swallowed loudly enough for her to hear. “To contain the elves, serah,” he supplied, sweat visibly breaking out on his brow as he struggled to maintain eye contact with her. Nervously shifting from one foot to the other, the guard explained the situation without the need of further prompting from Delani. “When the Marcher soldiers attacked the Dalish many city elves were also killed. Duke Basilius ordered that the gates be closed to contain them and prevent further unrest.”

Delani’s fingers twitched at her sides. She fought the overpowering urge to reach for her knife and bury it deep into the vulnerable space between the guard’s breastplate and fauld. The new Duke of Wycome thought that the best recourse to the massacre that had happened in his city was to lock up the victims of that vicious crime? Instead of doing everything within his power to set things right, he was quite literally ignoring the problem and hoping that it would all just blow over. Even when she expected nothing, shemlan found more ways to disappoint her. It had been foolish to think that the Duke would strive to make things right without being ordered to do so by the Inquisition. Delani would have to set things straight herself.

Her voice was low when she spoke, heavy with warning and absent patience. “Open the gates.”

The guard started to shake his head. “Can’t do that, serah,” he stated, “the Duke ordered—“

She was on him in an instant. A flash of metal shone between them and Delani shoved the man backwards into the wall, the sound of his helmet hitting the stone rang out as he let loose a startled cry. Behind her Cullen shouted for her to release him and Delani didn’t break the guard’s terror stricken gaze as she ordered Cullen to back off.

Delani pressed her knife to the guard’s neck with just enough force for the nervous bob of his adam’s apple to break skin. A tear of blood dripped from the small cut and disappeared behind the collar of his breast plate.

“Open. the. gates,” she repeated through clenched teeth. When it looked as though he might try to refuse her a second time, she gave him an ultimatum. “You can open the gates or I can slit your throat and rip out your tongue so that you might wear it as a neck scarf.” Her pause was accompanied by an expectant arch of an eyebrow. “What’ll it be?”

His eyes darted from her, to her companions, to the horrified onlookers held captive to the altercation. When his wide gaze landed on her again it was to call her on the bluff. “Y-you wouldn’t.”

Pressing the knife more firmly to his neck she watched with a certain level of satisfaction as the cut on his throat widened and a trickle of blood started to drain from it. Upper lip pulled back to bare her teeth at the guard, Delani brought her face to the guard’s and reminded him, “My entire clan was murdered by you shemlan. Do you honestly want to test the limits of what I would or would not do?”

The man went to shake his head but the movement deepened the worsening cut on his neck. “N-no, my lady.”

“So, you’ll open the gates then?”

He nodded quickly, panicked. “Of c-course, Your Worship,” the guard conceded, suddenly eager to please. “Right away!”

She held his gaze for a moment longer and thought that the man might wet himself. Satisfied that he would do as instructed, Delani dropped the knife from his neck and wiped it clean on the leather of his armor. “Good man,” she praised him as though he were a dog and took a step back.

The guard did a panicked shuffle before bolting off to have the gates opened. Pleased that she hadn’t had to make good on her threat, Delani returned her knife to its place on her belt and turned around to find both Cullen and Solas gaping at her with horror and disappointment in their eyes in equal measure.

With an irritated, prompting shake of her head, Delani growled, “What?”

Before either of them could answer the sound of the heavy gates opening pulled them from the conversation. Delani turned to watch as the doors swung outward and the path into the alienage no longer stood obstructed. The guard returned, holding a cloth to his neck to stop the bleeding that Delani had inflicted.

“The gates are open, Your Worship,” he needlessly announced.

“I can see that,” Delani replied, collecting Hellathen’s reins again so that she could lead her mount into the alienage.

When Delani passed the man without so much as thank you, the guard shouted after her, “What happened to your clan was wrong.” Delani’s steps slowed to a stop. Her shoulders tensed and she glared at the ground under her feet as the human continued. “They helped us when the other Marcher cities left us to deal with our own. It’s because of the Keeper that my wife survived the sickness from the red lyrium. She deserved better than what she got. They all did.”

Forcing her shoulders to relax, Delani continued on her path without responding to the guard’s words. She didn’t know why he’d felt the need to share that with her, and she didn’t care. His sympathy, condolences, understanding, whatever in the void that had been, did not turn back time. Her clan was gone, her family was dead, and those responsible carried on without fear of repercussions or fallout. It fell onto her to make things right, and she would show these shem the same mercy that they had shown her people.

Delani turned her nose at the stench that wafted from the alienage. The streets were filthy with sewage and waste. The buildings that these elves resided in were terrifying to even look at. They were stacked high on top of each other and falling apart, held together with dusty clay and rotting wood. The streets were filthy with litter, made of dirt and wet with puddles that stunk of piss. That anyone lived in these conditions was beyond repulsive, the only thing worse was that anyone actually thought that this was acceptable.

The city elves started to emerge from their homes at the sound of the gates opening. They gathered in the streets, curious as to who was approaching. When they saw Delani and her companions whispers of confusion and speculation filled the growing crowd, and then they noticed the vallaslin embedded into her skin. Their worried murmurings turned into excited chattering.

“It’s her!”

“The Inquisitor! She’s here!”

When the distance between her and and city elves was closed, Delani raised her voice and asked, “Where is the Hahren of this alienage?”

The crowd parted and an older woman stepped forward. Her dark skin was weathered and wrinkled like old leather, and her hair had turned white with the years. She stood with a confident posture, proud and certain in her stance, giving the impression that, at least mentally, she was younger than she looked. Her grey eyes shown with a wisdom and experience that reminded Delani so much of her mother that it hurt.

Keeper Milathara had died for these people, the entirety of clan Lavellan had been murdered for them, and there was nothing to show for that sacrifice. With each beat of her heart Delani’s blood burned hotter. She should have been here sooner. Delani should have stood with her clan, she should have fought with them. Delani should have died with her people. It would have been a mercy to not have to suffer a world absent her clan.

Curse the Creators for the path they’d set her on. She could not do this without her clan.

“Inquisitor Lavellan,” the elder said with a respectful bow. “I am Kali, the Hahren of Wycome’s alienage.” When she was standing upright again her grey eyes shone with empathy and regret. “My deepest condolences for your loss, Inquisitor. Your clan was this city’s salvation. Keeper Milathara helped our people more than anyone has ever before. If there is anything that we can do for you during this time you need only to ask.”

Delani nodded in acknowledgment and gratitude of the woman’s words, and choked down the furious part of her lobbying for freedom. It craved so desperately to scream until her throat bled, to get her hands on a Marcher noble and beat on them until they felt the same agony currently ripping her apart inside. She would get a chance to unleash her outrage on those deserving of it, but now was not the time.

When a few of the city elves approached Delani and her companions, gesturing for them to surrender their mounts, Delani passed Hellathen’s reins over and returned her focus onto Hahren Kali.

“There is actually one thing that I need from you,” said Delani, without further acknowledging the elder woman’s words. Really there were two things that she needed, but she would start with the first and they would work their way to the second once she was ready. Kali tilted her head in question and Delani provided, “I would like to be taken to where my clan was buried. There are rites that need to be performed.”

The older woman’s grey eyes widened a bit and nerves became visible in her expression. Carefully holding Delani’s gaze she explained, “My apologies, Inquisitor, I cannot do that.”

Delani’s expression tightened with anger. “Why’s that?” she bit out, ready to rip the older woman apart if she truly thought to deny Delani access to the bodies of her clan. She expected that kind of behavior from shemlan, not from an elf.

Hahren Kali’s tone was apologetic, her features open with remorse as she said, “The Duke had the bodies of your clan-mates burned.”

Her heart plummeted into her stomach. It fell like a dead weight, cast from iron as it sunk all the way down to the pit of her gut. Delani felt as though she was going to be sick. Fingers curling into tight fists at her sides, she focused on the pain of her fingernails breaking the skin of her palms instead of the fragments of her heart shattering all over again. Just when she thought she could not feel any more broken than she already did, fate surprised her with how easily it could continue to crush her.

Turning on her heel, she strode the short distance to where Solas and Cullen were standing. Her gaze was downcast as she fought the tears from surfacing, as she struggled to keep her breaths even and calm. It was like she was reading Lady Volant’s letter to Josephine all over again. Delani felt as though she were discovering the slaughter of her people for the first time. The mistake of thinking that the situation couldn’t get any worse was hers alone. Delani was cursed.

When the pain of tears filling her eyes pricked at her sinuses, she buried her face in her hands and scrubbed at her eyes. She would not cry, not here, not in front of all these people. With a low voice, hoarse with emotion, she gasped, “They burned the bodies.”

She felt it when Cullen took a step in her direction, could sense it when he lifted his hand toward her, wanting to offer her comfort. Delani also felt it when he forced his outstretched hand back to his side, remaining the Commander of the Inquisition and nothing more. Her heart broke again. She really had nothing left.

The confusion in Cullen’s voice was loud when he asked, “What does that mean?”

It was Solas that answered his question; Delani was too busy trying to keep control of the feelings twisting her insides into knots and tearing her apart. “The Dalish bury their dead, Commander,” the male elf explained, his words heavy with sorrow. “Without the oak staff and cedar branch that they are buried with, they believe that the dead will not be able to find their way in the afterlife.”

Furiously rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes, Delani seethed, “It was not enough to take the lives of my clansmen, they took their afterlife as well.” Ripping her hands from her face Delani glared past both Solas and Cullen. Her nostrils flared as she sucked in a deep breath. Ice filled her veins with resolution. Someone would pay for all that had happened to her clan. Blood would be met with blood. Anything short of that was unacceptable.

Turning back around, Delani reclaimed her place before Hahren Kali. She held the elder’s remorseful gaze and moved on to her second request. “Take me to where the nobles slaughtered my people.” The older woman’s grey eyes widened with surprise and confusion, but Delani didn’t supply her with an answer to her unasked question. Instead she insisted, “Take me to the heart of where the massacre took place.”

Hahren Kali bowed her head. She was able to tell from Delani’s expression that she wouldn’t receive any answers to her questions, not yet, and not from Delani. That left her with one option: co-operation.

“Right this way, Lady Inquisitor.”

His muscles ached with a familiar pain. It was more than the strain of their travels, the discomfort of riding, and the stress of not knowing what to expect. The ache that now wracked through his body was of withdrawal. He could feel the need all the way to his bones, and a cold sweat covered his brow as he fought his ever growing urge for lyrium.

Cullen’s fingers trembled as he gripped the pommel of his sword with shaky hands. He ground his teeth until they ached, hoping to distract himself from his pain by causing another, but the pressure building against his skull was unrelenting. There was no escape from this pain. His only choice was to endure it, to wade through the stormy waters of addiction until he could no longer feel his blood pumping in his head.

Sucking in a deep breath in attempt to settle his stomach, Cullen blinked hard and tried to focus on what was happening around him. A tent had been erected in the middle of Wycome, spacious enough for two cots to be laid out within and for people to move about inside without bumping into each other. The templars that were posted outside the tent had been stationed there by Cullen to act as safeguards, and also as a representation of the Inquisition’s relationship with the Chantry.

A crowd had started to gather when Delani ordered the tent be put up, but the realization that nothing beyond that was happening had caused more than a few to lose interest. It was a small relief. The less people lingering about meant there was less of a chance that one of those people were going to try and make an attempt on Delani’s life. She was vulnerable out in the open like this, and the additional stress was worsening Cullen’s headache.

He turned at the sound of the tent flap opening and watched as Delani emerged from within. The sea green of her eyes caught the afternoon sun and shone hard like gemstones, resolute and determined. There was a grimness in her features, her lips thinned and downturned with hate. Gone was the laughter that had once been so bright in her eyes. It was replaced by bitterness and anger, and the loss of Delani’s smile was a powerful blow to his gut; it left him breathless and empty, needing to fill his lungs with oxygen only to discover that there was none to be found.

The worst part of it all was the emotional divide that stood so strong between them. Cullen understood her sadness, he could handle her anger, he knew that the loss of her mother and her clan was too much to bear. What he could not accept was how easily she’d shut him out. Delani hid herself and her heart from him as though he might do anything to harm her further. It was a show of distrust, and he would rather be run through by a blade than to have Delani not trust him.

She met his gaze for a moment, quickly searching his features before looking toward the crowd that had gathered. There were city elves encircling the tent, vigilant and supportive, their presence was a show of solidarity and the absence of Duke Basilius’s presence was noted. He had sent an honor guard, accompanied by Lady Guinevere Volant, but the man himself was nowhere to be seen. If the Duke had any intention of rectifying the wrong committed against Delani and her people, he was doing a poor job of showing it.

Solas and Hahren Kali approached them at the tent’s entrance, the elder woman with a tea kettle in hand. The apostate looked from Cullen to Delani and said with a heavy breath, “Everything appears to be in order, Inquisitor. Shall we begin?”

Nodding, Delani turned around to re-enter the tent and acknowledged Cullen with a nod when he held the flap open for her and the others to enter. He followed in after them, standing at the entrance as he watched both Solas and Delani take a cot. Hahren Kali filled two cups with a potent, strong smelling tea and handed them to the other two elves.

As Solas brought the lip of the cup to his nose to smell the tea, turning his face in disgust at the scent, the elder woman explained, “The tea is made from a coastal variant of embrium, and has been used for generations as a sleeping remedy.” She looked from one to the other before stating, “It should have you sleeping in minutes.”

Solas bowed his head in respectful gratitude. “Ma serannas, Hahren Kali.”

Across from him, Delani merely nodded her agreement before downing her tea and handing the empty cup back into the older female’s possession. She laid back on the cot and folded her hands over her stomach while staring up at the tent’s fabric ceiling, waiting for sleep to abduct her as promised. Solas followed suit, after passing Kali his cup, and the woman moved to stand beside Cullen.

“We should let them rest,” she advised, her hand on his bicep as she gently tried to usher him back outside.

Cullen’s gaze remained on Delani. He didn’t want to leave her to face what would come alone. They’d traveled to Wycome so that she could witness the memories of her people’s slaughter, but now that she was so close to seeing those horrors first hand Cullen wanted to spare her from them more than ever. If Delani hadn’t been out for blood before, this was certain to push her over the edge.

He had already lost Delani to her sorrow, now he worried that when she woke the woman that he loved would be gone to him forever.

Tightening his jaw, Cullen sighed through his nose and his shoulders sagged. Whatever happened now was in the Maker’s hands. All he could do was his duty as Commander of the Inquisition.

“I’ll be just outside,” he said to no one in particular. Cullen’s heart was low in his gut as he gave Delani a final glance before exiting from the tent with Hahren Kali. The salty air of the coastal city was humid, heavy with moisture and something akin to trepidation. It was almost as if Fate herself was holding her breath in anticipation of what Delani would find in the Fade, and how she would react to it.

The fates of many had always depended on Delani but, somehow, this felt different.

Chapter Text

Waves crashed against the jagged rocks along the coast, the sloshing water foaming with the tidal ebb and flow. Wind caressed its cool fingers through her hair, ruffling it into a wild mess of auburn that she couldn’t be bothered to tame. Staring out at the horizon, Delani inhaled deeply through her nose, breathing in the salty air and feeling the daylight on her surface.

It almost felt real, the cliff she stood on in this world she found herself in. If it wasn’t for the floating rocks or the telling green tint to the sunshine above, Delani wouldn’t have been able to tell that she was actually in the Beyond.

She felt it when someone came up from behind her to stand at her side. Solas’s gaze was also on the horizon, admiring the Fade in all of its wonder for moment before giving her a sideways glance. “Are you ready, lethallan?”

Her stomach had folded over itself, twisting and turning with dread and anxiety. She was the furthest thing from ready, but this was why they’d come to Wycome. To turn tail now was to admit to her own cowardice. Delani wanted to know how her mother and her clan had died. This was the only way.

Turning around and starting for the city, Delani’s reply to Solas’s question was to make her way toward the promise of heartache. They were silent as they strode through Wycome, misty shapes of spirits and memories ghosting the streets and filling the air with a thousand unintelligible whispers. Her chest was tight with apprehension. Delani’s blood was thick with dread as she and Solas strode to where the tent had been erected.

They came to a stop in the center of Wycome and Delani swallowed down the mild panic trying to take shape in her throat. When Solas looked to her she nodded for him to proceed. There was no turning back now.

The male elf started to move his hands, the broad, elegant gestures manipulating the air around him. Delani watched, transfixed, as the Fade changed with his mannerisms. The scene surrounding them warped, stretched, and blurred before settling back into a clear cityscape filled with occupied streets and the bustle of a busy city.

Aside from Solas, Delani had never met a Dreamer. Never before had she been able to witness such control of the Beyond. Experiencing it now was breathtaking.

Moving her focus onto the city around them, she quickly found her clan-mates within the throng of Wycome’s inhabitants. Her heart leapt into her throat and tears stabbed her eyes as they surfaced. She blinked them back, gulping down a deep breath. An older woman, with auburn hair threaded with grey, was being dutifully guarded by a little blond street urchin and the smile on her face was heart shattering.

“Mamae,” Delani whispered as she stared at her mother, taking in the sight of her for the last time. She hadn’t gotten the chance to say goodbye. Delani hadn’t gotten to hug her mother one last time, or tell her how much she loved her. Instead she’d sent dignitaries to defend her people, and now they were dead because of it.

Clasping her eyes shut, Delani turned her gaze from her mother and inspected the rest of her people. If she had been here she could have saved them. They were gone because of her. She’d done this to them.

Delani noticed the small things as she inspected the rest of her clan. Amira and Xanix had finally bonded, and Amira had been heavy with child. Young Samahl had finally received his vallaslin and, judging by the bow on his back, he’d become a fine hunter. The city elves and humans alike all seemed comfortable with clan Lavellan, they even appeared welcoming. More than a few humans approached Keeper Milathara to exchange pleasantries, and all had regarded her mother with the respect that she deserved.

In this instance there was peace, but the moment was more fleeting than a mid-morning fog.

A horn sounded in warning and Delani followed the gazes of Wycome’s inhabitants. They filled the streets like a flood of demons, the shine of drawn swords and armor glinting in the daylight, more menacing than the gleam of dragons teeth. More than a hundred soldiers poured through Wycome, death in motion, drunk with bloodlust and high with glory mongering.

Eyes wide with horror, Delani watched as Uriah —the elf who had taken  her place as the clan’s Hunt Master— instructed the warriors to make a wall and the archers to find high ground. Clan Lavellan had been ill prepared for all out war, and it showed in Uriah’s lack of strategy.

It should have been her. Delani bit back a scream as she witnessed hunter after hunter fall to Marcher blades. She should have been the one organizing their forces. She should have been the one protecting her clan. Delani should have been here to stand with her people. But she had been traipsing through Thedas doing the Chantry’s bidding instead, and this was the end result.

Blood filled the streets. Pools of Crimson painted Wycome as her clan fought for a city that wasn’t their home and a people that wasn’t their own.

Violently trembling fingers combed through her hair as she witnessed the needless massacre of her clansmen. Babies were ripped from the arms of their mothers and thrown aside to be trampled by the death march. Xanix was forced to his knees and screamed like a wild beast as he was made to bear witness to Amira being run through by a sword, the blade burying deep her in swollen belly and protruding from her back. For generations the Dalish were called savages, feared by humans for little more than their lifestyle, but the only savagery that Delani saw was that of the nobles who that this slaughter was justifiable.

It was near impossible to see past the thick wall of tears that welled before her eyes. Delani blinked and the rivulets that fell were the surveyors of her cheeks, excavating the path that would soon become well traveled. She searched for her mother in the unfolding chaos, desperate to find the Keeper. As though it weren't too late to change what had happened. As though her mother wasn't already dead and gone.

Keeper Milathara proved easy to find. Blasts of old magic lit up the streets of Wycome, the elements bending to her mother’s will in defense of the clan and any of those unfortunate enough to be standing near them. Dashana, her second, stood back to back with her, protecting her leader and her people against a force they could not beat.

Tucked behind the Keeper, and protected by the two elven mages, Jack watched in horror as death and destruction ruled the day. When too many Marcher soldiers broke the defensive line that Uriah had ordered, Dashana turned to Keeper Milathara and told her to run to safety.

“I won’t leave you, da’len,” the Keeper protested, clutching her staff so tightly that her knuckles were white with the effort.

Dashana gave her an exasperated look, her expression was a reflection of what Delani was feeling inside. “You must! You are the Keeper. If anyone of us has to survive this day it is you!”

When the Keeper shook her head to argue with her second, Delani nearly screamed at the memory of her mother. How could she be so stubborn?

“I have lived my life, child,” the smile that took shape on the Keeper’s lips was poignant, accepting of a fate she knew was certain. She grabbed Jack by the hand and forced his small fingers into Dashana’s grasp. Clasping her second by the nape of the neck, she pulled Dashana close and pressed their foreheads together. “When you see Delani again, tell her that I love her and that I am proud of the woman she has become.”

She pressed a kiss onto the younger woman’s brow before releasing her. “Ma ar’lath, da’len.” With a quick glance at Jack, she ruffled his blond hair before taking a backwards step with one last command for her second to follow.

“Survive.”

Keeper Milathara turned toward the chaos and met it with a rigid back and staff in hand. There was pride and passion in her every movement. Proud of who she was until the bitter end, she was a wild tempest, a woman defending her people, a Keeper defending her clan.

As wave after wave of Marcher soldiers came down on Wycome Keeper Milathara stood as the city’s defender. She was indomitable, her magic was powerful. With each spin, whirl, and wave of her staff her enemies were burned, frozen, and torn apart by a powerful magic forgotten by all but the elvhen. Those who managed to come too close were met with the blade at the end of her staff.

Feelings of guilt, horror, anger, devastation, and agony were all living creatures inside of Delani. They tore at her with sharpened claws, drawing her nearer and nearer to madness with each clansmen lost to shemlan hands. Even amidst that turmoil she was undeniably proud of her mother’s strength, of her courage and determination, of her love. Keeper Milathara was a woman who had no equal, and Delani hadn’t gotten to say goodbye.

As the minutes stretched the Keeper’s mana waned. Soon she was falling back, each retreating step was shadowed by Delani whose tears were making it hard to see. Her mother’s voice filled the streets, urging what little remained of her clan, and any elves or humans brave enough to fight alongside them, to run for the safety of the alienage.

Even as Delani questioned the soundness of such instructions she knew that the gates that sealed the alienage worked both ways. If they could manage to get them shut, the Marcher soldiers would no longer see the elves as a threat. To seek sanctuary in Wycome’s impoverished corner was a hopeless plan borne of desperation, and Delani should have been there to fight alongside her mother. If she’d been there she could have changed the battle’s outcome.

Only a handful of clan Lavellan’s elves remained, and all were following their Keeper to the alienage. It was their final attempt at survival, and Delani covered her mouth to stifle a gasp at the sight of them skidding to a stop. Marcher shoulders had flanked them, cutting off their retreat. A line of archers stood at the ready, arrows aimed to kill. When elven eyes widened with the realization that this was the end, the order was given.

A shadow of arrows darkened the sky. Keeper Milathara cast a powerful spell, deflecting the arrows before they could do damage. Her mana was gone now, depleted beyond recovery. When another wave of arrows was loosed all she could do was watch them fall.

“Ma ghilana mir din’an,” she whispered.

Delani screamed. She ran into the memory in a futile attempt to take the arrows aimed at her mother. Even as she stood in front of Keeper Milathara, the projectiles ghosted through her. Turning in time to witness her mother take three arrows through the chest, and fall backwards, Delani tried to catch the Keeper as she fell. She fell through Delani’s fingers and onto the ground.

Her eyes were wide as she choked on her own blood. The Keeper’s gaze was heavenward and ringed with fear. For all of her claims of having lived a full life, she was not yet ready to die. Delani kneeled beside her mother with her hand hovering over the Keeper’s face, wanting so terribly to hold her mother in her final moments.

None of this should have happened. Delani should have never volunteered to spy on the conclave. She should have never joined the Inquisition, or allowed herself to be called Herald. Delani should have run home to her people. She should have stayed where she belonged. She should have protected her clan like she had always sworn to do. They were dead, and she alone.

A scream filled the Fade, loud and sorrowful in its sound. The taste of blood was on her tongue, her throat ripped raw by the strength of her outcry. Delani folded over herself, pressing her forehead to the ground as her sobs wracked through her. Her whole body shook with her emotions. Rage and guilt were stalemated in her gut, tightening her middle and constricting her throat, making it impossible to breathe.

If only she had sent troops like Cullen had insisted. If only she had come to protect her people herself. If only she had been spared this misery by dying with her clan.

When a hand fell on her shoulder Delani flinched from the touch.

“Ir abelas, lethallan.” Solas murmured softly. It was a laughable attempt at comfort.

All sense of time escaped Delani as she openly mourned her people. The bones in her hand hurt from throttling the ground, her throat stung from the force of her cries, and her stomach ached from how hard she was sobbing. All the while Solas hovered nearby, doing his best to offer her his support.

When finally her cries weakened, Delani breathed heavily and focused all of her energy on the first emotion that settled in her mind. Fury. Her teeth ached from the force with which she was grinding them. Voice low, gravely with the threat in her growl, she swore, “I will make them pay.”

Delani lifted her face from the ground and glared past her surroundings. With each inhale her fury grew more unstable, uncontrollable, volatile. “I will make them all pay,” she seethed.

She would round up every noble who played a hand in the massacre of her clan. Delani would find their families, their friends, the families of their friends, and she would kill them all. She would burn down their homes, she would destroy all that they loved. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life would be taken for every elven life lost to humans who thought they were their betters. That was the only acceptable form justice, anything less was a mercy Delani was incapable of sparing.

Tension permeated from Solas as he crouched down beside her. The other elf reached out to Delani, but thought better of it before his fingers could make contact with her surface. Light blue eyes regarded her wearily as he carefully stated, “You can’t.”

She pinned him with a glare so sharp it should have flayed the flesh from his bones. Her upper lip curled back and Delani hissed, “Watch me.” Pushing herself back up onto her feet, she searched the immediate area for an escape. The moment she woke from this nightmare she was going to make all of those accountable for the lives lost in Wycome pay for their crimes.

Solas was on her heels, trying to remedy his poor choice of words. “No, da’len.” He grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her to a stop. Delani whipped around to face the taller elf. With one step she closed the space between them and glared at him with all of the anger and hatred she had accumulated inside of her.

The mage bore Delani’s anger unflinchingly. There was a sneer on his lips that rivaled her own, even as his eyes shown with sympathy and regret. “Do you think that this is what your mother would have wanted?” He asked, uncaring that the ground he now treaded was unsafe.

The mere mention of her mother reset all of Delani’s emotions to their highest capacity. Red rimmed her vision and she lost control of her muscles. In an instant her hand went from her side to the collar of Solas’s shirt. She pulled his face down to hers until their noses were almost touching.

“My mother is dead,” she fumed, her body trembling with all that she was feeling “Do you think that she ever wanted that?”

He grabbed her by the wrists and, with gentle force, urged her to release his collar from her grasp. “No,” he answered her. Somberly shaking his head from side to side, Solas observed, “Death is not what she wanted for this city,” more fervently he added, “the anger it now causes you is not what she would have wanted for her daughter.”

For a moment all Delani could do was leer at Solas, too torn up by the ongoings inside of her to articulate a proper response. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to slit his throat open with one of her daggers for daring to stand in her way. Her reaction to his words was so violent that her silence and inaction were the only things keeping her from punching through his chest and ripping out his heart with her fist.

His words swirled in the mind, spinning like a spider’s web whose silk shone with truth. Even in her fury she knew that he was right. Delani had just visualized the death —murder more like— of a trusted friend, for the crime of speaking the truth. Her rage was blinding, overwhelming, and even in the heat of it she knew that her mother would have never condoned her behavior.

Eyes narrowing to in pricks, Delani seethed, “Don’t pretend to know what my mother would have wanted.” She glared down at the memory of the Keeper’s body and clasped her eyes tightly shut. Fresh tears fell from her eyes regardless of her attempts to deny them. Through gritted teeth she added, “You did not know her.”

“I did not need to,” Solas easily rebuked. With a gesture toward the chaos, the mage muttered, “I need only to look in order to see what she wanted.”

His gaze returned to hers with the words, “When you look at this memory you see only the death of your clan.”

The expression Delani threw at him was incredulous. What more was there? “Because that’s all that there is!” she shouted, exasperated and outraged that he pretended to see it differently.

Shaking his head, Solas said, “There is so much more, da’len.” He turned and now Delani followed his gaze. “Look,” the other elf insisted. “See for yourself that this city depended on your mother and your clan.”

The vision before her remained unchanged. Delani saw the massacre of her people. She saw the slaughter of innocent elves who dared to defend them. All Delani saw were shemlan monsters whose actions would be pardoned by their god and the Chantry. Delani saw death and nothing more.

When she admitted as much to Solas he let loose a sigh burdened with disappointment, while being simultaneously unsurprised. Redirecting her attention on to the fray once more, Solas gestured toward two humans locked in combat.

“There,” he said, “Do you see it now?”

Delani watched wordlessly for a moment, simply observing as the two humans battled. With her brows pinched with distaste for this game Solas was playing, she didn’t look at him as she growled, “I see shemlan doing the only thing they are good at: mindless fighting.”

She felt the mage’s disappointment grow, heard it in the sigh that followed her words. “Then you are seeing only what you want and not what is in front of you,” he stated, sounding very much like a teacher reprimanding his student. But Delani was no child in need of instruction, she was a Dalish hunter in search of prey, and Solas was keeping her from her purpose.

Before she could demand for him to release her from this horror, Solas tried again to make her see what wasn’t there. “Look, Inquisitor.” He pointed again for her gaze to return to the fighting humans. “See who is fighting and what they are fighting for.”

The urge to roll her eyes and tell the older elf which dark orifice to shove his riddles was overpowering. Just as she was about to turn her impatience and blinding rage on Solas once more, her focus wavered back to the men locked sword to sword. Delani forced herself to watch the fight, to witness the memory and truly see the fight for what it was.

Two humans fighting.

What for? One was obviously a Marcher soldier. He was in Wycome under the command of some noble who thought that the lives of a few elves were of less than no consequence. But the other, for what cause did he fight? Delani’s fingers curled into her palms, her fists tight at her sides as she continued to spectate the fight.

The Wycome man was fighting for the elves, she realized. He was fighting for the lives of the Dalish and for the elves that called the city home. The human took up arms against a fellow human Marcher in order to protect those who had helped him and the city. He was a human and he was fighting for the elves, and it was the first time that Delani had ever seen such a thing. She never would have thought it possible.

Beside her Solas asked, “Don’t you see, da’len? Your mother and your clan were changing things in Wycome.” There was a desperation in his voice as he spoke, an almost pleading note to his tone as he beckoned her to listen. “Look at what she accomplished. Humans fighting alongside elves, for the sake of elves. Where have you ever seen such a thing?”

The answer was a simple one. Nowhere.

With a quick glance at her, he wondered, “Don’t you see how this city relied on your people, how they respected your mother, and regarded her as a hero?” Returning his gaze forward, Solas’s expression was stern, thoughtful, as he commented, “If you kill all of those responsible for this tragedy, you destroy everything that she worked for. By seeking vengeance you will backtrack all that she had set in motion. You will undo the foundation she had set. You will destroy any chance for any elf either Dalish or city born.”

He did turn to look at her then. With an expression full of expectation, he asked, “Can you risk all of that with the knowledge that your vengeance will cost more than it will gain?”

Delani grit her teeth to keep from screaming. Creators curse Solas for his words, for his observation, and for the truth in it all. What Delani wanted was blood. She wanted to burn Wycome to the ground. She wanted to burn all of the Free Marches in the hellfire of her fury. What she wanted was to make every noble who called the Marches home to suffer as she had suffered. The last thing from her mind was what that vengeance would cost the elvhen.

The space where her heart had been ached with the magnitude of her loss. All this time she had been filling it with the promise that for every death clan Lavellan had received, two would be paid as recompense. But now it was clear that meeting death with death would cost the elves what little they had gained. Keeper Milathara had laid down the groundwork of change, and to go after her murderers now would be to risk all that she had done.

Her chin trembled as her emotions fluctuated again. It was so easy to turn to rage after all that she had seen, but now all Delani could focus on was the vast cavern that yawned endlessly inside of her.

Clutching her chest, she sobbed, “But it hurts so much.” Tears reemerged and she allowed them to fall freely, no longer possessing the willpower to fight them back. “My mother is gone, my clan is gone, I have nothing. These shemlan took everything from me." 

“They did not take everything from you,” Solas argued, his words weighted with compassion. “I know that all you can feel right now is the pain of your loss, and I understand that you want blood for blood, but that will not fix what has happened to your people. Vengeance will not solve what is still happening to all elves.

“What happened here was an injustice and you are right to demand that those responsible be made accountable for their actions. But vengeance is not justice,” he reminded her, seemingly trying to embed his words under her skin so that they may haunt her forever. “And it is vengeance that you desire. Justice will further the cause of our people, vengeance will make it appear as though we were deserving of the fate dealt on these streets.”

His words did little to quell her heart or her mind. If anything she felt more turmoil now than she had before. Morality was not an argument she wanted to have with the man, but he had forced it into her mind. What would her demands of death bring the elves? It would cost them what little station they had, it would endanger them even more, it would place them at the mercy of humans who thought of them as little more than animals. If Delani brought the might of the Inquisition down on the nobles who attacked her clan, all that Thedas would see was an elf attacking humans, and they would respond in kind.

She didn’t want to admit to the truth of his words, or the soundness of his observation. Delani wanted to stew in her fury, to boil over with her outrage and take out her aggressions on those deserving of it. Rioting against logic was the easiest alternative, and one Delani was tempted to take.

“Release me, Solas,” she demanded, knowing that he would be the quickest means of escape from the Fade. “You’ve said your piece, now let me go so that I can deal with these nobles.”

He refused her demands with a shake of his head. “No,” he declined. “I’m not going to until you see all that you risk by setting your rage loose.” Cautiously placing his hand on Delani’s shoulder, he insisted, “Let me show you what your mother started in this city.”

Delani no longer had it in her to argue with him. She allowed Solas to pull her along with him, to guide her through the Fade and show her whatever it was that he thought she needed to see. She would see and she would listen, Delani would do anything that he wanted if it would get her out of this night-terror faster.

The Beyond shifted with their footsteps, the world and scene surrounding them changing as they proceeded. One moment they were in the bloodied slaughter ground and the next moment the blood of her clan no longer painted the streets. Instead Delani was met with smiles and laughter.

Her clan was alive again. Xanix and Amira were walking through the market, hand in hand, with children running past them. Uriah was lingering by the blacksmith, testing the smithy’s wares against the clan’s ironbark. At the flower stand some ways down the market’s street, Samahl was blushing timidly at a human girl. All was at peace, as it should have remained.

“Look,” said Solas, pulling her attention from her clan-mates and onto the Keeper who was alive and well once again.

Keeper Milathara had a small guard, consisting of her First, Jack, and a hunter. They appeared at ease as they strode through the city, stopping every once in awhile to converse with passersby. Humans would approach the Keeper with welcoming, even grateful, grins on their lips. They would grab her by the forearm in greeting, some even went so far as to pull her into an embrace.

Delani was awestruck by the sight of it. Hahren Kali had spoken of her mother with such affection, and even the human guard that had been posted in front of the alienage had spoken of the Keeper with high regard. She knew that her mother was a woman that demand respect with her presence alone, but now she could see for herself that Wycome had more than respected the Keeper. They had loved her.

Clan Lavellan was a welcome addition to the city, and with their presence the elves that called Wycome home were also elevated in social standing. There were still those who sneered at them, who muttered obscenities under their breath and called them all knife ear. But a majority of the city’s humans were accepting of their elven counterparts. The animosity that Delani had come to expect between humans and elves was missing from the atmosphere, leaving only level ground behind.

The novelty of it was disorienting.

Solas’s expression was respectful, admiring, as he regarded Keeper Milathara. “Don’t you see, lethalan? Wycome was the heart of change. If you kill the nobles that did this to your clan then you will also be killing whatever chance our people have to advance on a social level.”

Breathing in deeply through her nose, Delani’s focus remained trained on her mother. Though she could not give voice to the words, she was grateful to Solas for taking her this far back into the Beyond to witness these memories. She did not want the last image she had of her mother to be of her choking on her own blood on a street stained with crimson. Delani preferred her freshest memories of her mother to be of the Keeper grinning at her followers and playing with Jack’s hair.

It did not erase the pain of her loss, but it did help to staunch the bleeding wound that was her anger.

Deep down, in a place she didn’t yet care to acknowledge, Delani knew that Solas was right. Though her fury and sadness were still too great for her to see past, a minuscule part of her could acknowledge that what she had planned for the nobles of the Free Marches would help no one, not even herself. The desire to repay death with death was still a living creature inside of her, but she was no longer feeding it by the spadeful.

Jaw tight with indecision, Delani’s gaze remained trained on her mother’s features as she assured the mage that, “I will think on all that you have said, Solas.” She gave the male elf a side long glance before insisting, “I can promise you no more than that.”

Bowing his head with understanding, Solas admitted, “That is all that I can ask of you, Inquisitor. It is all anyone can ask for.”

The upward twitch at the corners of his lips was encouraging as he regarded Delani. Solas gave her a thorough once over, concerned and protective as only a friend could be. His worry for her was obvious in his eyes, and Delani turned her gaze at the sight of it. She was having a hard enough time dealing with her own emotions, she could not take the additional burden of Solas’s as well.

“Are you ready to return to your body?” he asked tentatively.

With a final look at her mother, Delani nodded that she was ready. Her hands were tight fists at her sides, and her jaw was clenched with determination. When she woke from this nightmare she would see that her clan received justice. She now needed only to decide what exactly that meant.

Chapter Text

Lady Guinevere Volant’s anxiety was palpable, filling the foyer all the way to the brim. Obviously concerned with how Delani was going to react to the Duke, she wrung her hands as she reluctantly led them deeper into the estate. The palace was a wondrous thing, clean and well lit, with paintings, statues, tapestries, and expensive carpets to give it warmth. The entryway alone was breathtaking by design, and Delani wondered how much of this obvious wealth —if any— was allowed to trickle down to those who needed it more.

Glancing over her shoulder, Delani gave her companions a quick once over. Solas’s gaze was on the building’s architecture, thoughts of exploring it in the Fade undoubtedly in his eyes. Beside him, Cullen’s attention was pointed forward, he met her gaze for the briefest of seconds before looking past her again, his jaw tight with an emotion she could not place.

At the feeling of her heart tightening in her chest, Delani was surprised to find that it still beat at all. Without her clan she had nothing. Without Cullen she had less than nothing. Yet her heart still thumped, drumming incessantly, ignorantly, insisting that she continue on with her now purposeless life.

She screwed her eyes shut and averted her attention away from Cullen, returning it to Lady Volant’s rigid back. Cullen was here, with her. Even if it didn’t mean that they were together romantically it had to mean something. Whatever it meant, she couldn’t dwell on those thoughts now; not yet.

They followed the dignitary through the grand halls until they reached a large open area, more spectacular than the estate’s entrance. The vaulted ceilings were muraled with historic imagery, romantic battles exaggerated in their retellings were beautifully painted above their heads. Stained glass windows filled the room with the colorful light of the setting sun, combatting with the fire burning in the hearth and the torches lining the walls.

Standing in front of the fireplace was a man. He was young, judging by his build and the thickness of his hair. The man’s stance was confident, entitled. Noble, Delani thought with a sneer, immediately recognizing the man for who he was.

“Inquisitor Lavellan,” Lady Guinevere Volant started with the needless introductions. “Allow me to present Lord Basilius, the Duke of Wycome.”

The man turned then, curiosity in his dark eyes as he inspected his visitors. He was a decent enough looking man with a strong, square jaw that was lightly shadowed by stubble. He had a medium complexion, light colored skin that could hold a tan if his noble upbringing didn’t excuse him from fieldwork or long periods under the bright Marcher sun. The Duke had long, dark brown hair that was tied away from his face, secured at the back of his neck with a leather band. Brown eyes were dark under the shadow cast by his pronounced eyebrows, and were expressive for a man of his rearing.

He politely allowed Lady Volant to finish the introductions before greeting his guests.

“My Lord Duke Basilius, may I present the Herald of Andraste and leader of the Inquisition, Lady Lavellan.” She then gestured to the two men standing behind Delani. “And her companions, Former Knight-Captain and general of the Inquisition’s forces, Commander Cullen.”

The ambassador faltered when she moved on to the male elf. “And Solas her… arcane specialist.”

The responding chortle that escaped Solas was largely ignored.

“Inquisitor,” the Duke crossed the room and bowed before Delani. Taking her hand into his, he brushed his lips over her knuckles before standing upright again. With a polite smile on his lips he said, “Welcome to my home. My hospitality is at your disposal.”

Bowing her head at the man, Delani returned his greeting with noticeably less flare. “Duke Basilius,” she replied. “My clan had a taste of your ‘hospitality,’ you’ll excuse me if I prefer to go without.”

Lady Volant gasped softly at Delani’s reply. Her eyes were wide as she looked between Delani and the Duke, anticipating the worst.

To even Delani’s surprise, Duke Basilius didn’t seem too insulted by Delani’s lack of respect. He tilted his head up a bit, looking down his nose at Delani for a moment before raising an eyebrow. “I did not sanction what happened to your clan, Inquisitor.” His voice was level when he reminded her of that fact.

“No,” Delani agreed and cooly held his gaze as she observed, “but you did not stop it either.”

That was the comment that spurred his ire. The man’s dark eyes narrowed with distaste. “And how might I have stopped it, pray tell?” he asked, with more patience in his voice than Delani was accustomed to hearing from someone of his station.

She shrugged. “This is your city, is it not? With guards and an army, a defense against invading forces?” At the sight of his jaw working, she glared him down in a silent challenge to argue with her further. “Am I to understand that the elven lives lost in your city were the direct result of those forces at work?”

“I—“ he blinked hard, caught off guard by her questions and underlying accusations. He was not  a man accustomed to confrontation, least of all from an elf. Delani would make sure to leave Wycome with him well versed in the practice. Eager to make her understand, he added, “There was no stopping the bloodshed once it had started. If you had seen it you would understand that—“

Delani pulled her lip back into a snarl. “I have seen it,” she informed him past clenched teeth. The Beyond had shown her everything that she needed to see, and proper reinforcements, or an actual defense against the outside Marcher forces had not been a sight provided. “And I understand perfectly well that you chose human lives over the ones that inhabit your very own alienage.”

There was caution in Duke Basilius’s eyes as he regarded her. He probably understood that a single misstep could seal the fate of more than his own city. It was obvious that, at this moment, Delani was simply looking for a reason to launch an attack. Providing her with one would be easier than anything he could imagine. When he snapped his mouth shut and quietly calculated his next move it was clear to see that Duke Basilius knew to tread lightly.

“You have had a long journey, Inquisitor; you must be exhausted,” he observed in the tone of a gracious host, concerned after the wellbeing of his guests. With a broad gesture to the elegance surrounding them he proclaimed, “My home is yours for as long as you need it.”

His attention moved to the corner of the room, and he nodded at the servant who was standing to the side, waiting to be called upon. The Duke nodded and his man servant came forward. Returning his attention to Delani, Duke Basilius admitted, “I had no ill will toward your clan, and even had plans with your Keeper to find a permanent place for them here in Wycome.”

When Delani’s eyebrows rose with a mixture of surprise and doubt, he continued, “As a gesture of good faith I will return to you what was lost.”

Her lip curled with disgust. How dare he? With a low and dangerous voice, she replied, “Are you a blood mage, Lord Basilius, to suggest bringing back the dead?”

“Hardly,” he assured her with a scoff. “I am but a man hoping to preserve his city and protect his people.” Carefully maintaining Delani’s gaze, he cautiously stated, “I cannot bring back your clan, but I can give you a small piece of what was taken from you. Keeper Milathara had an apprentice, did she not?”

Delani’s heart jumped into her throat. When an ember of hope came alive in her chest, she smashed it down until it was as dead as her clan. “Dashana,” she murmured in confirmation. Her voice wavered with the question that followed, “She still lives?”

Her memory returned to all that she had seen in the Beyond with Solas. Delani remembered how Dashana had stayed by the Keeper’s side, eager to protect the woman that had been like a mother to her for over a decade. Keeper Milathara’s final instruction to her First had been for her to survive. Delani hadn’t thought that it was possible, but the expression on Duke Basilius’s features made her second guess herself. If there was even a chance…

“You have my deepest regrets and condolences for all that you have lost,” admitted Duke Basilius, the sympathy in his eyes was genuine as far as Delani could tell. “Please take this for what it is: a symbol of my support of the Inquisition and its Inquisitor.”

Finally bringing attention to the servant who had come up to stand beside his employer, Basiluis explained the man’s purpose, “My man, Terrance, will take you to the mage.” When he nodded at his servant to take them away, the gesture was followed by a polite, “Rooming has been arranged for all of you. Any further discussion over your purpose here in Wycome can be had tomorrow. If you need anything, please let me know.”

The Duke bowed at his waist and cued Terrance to take them from the room. Lady Volant lingered behind with the excuse of turning in for the night, likely eager to report the day’s events to Josephine. Delani could not care less what she sent to the Inquisition’s Ambassador. She wasn’t afraid of being tattled on, the only thing Delani was afraid of was her clan not receiving justice.

She followed Terrance through the winding halls, ignoring the estate’s grandeur and instead focused on the possibility that Dashana could still be alive. It didn’t matter if it was the Keeper’s First that Terrance led them to or some other member of her clan, Delani would be overjoyed if any of her clan-mates managed to survive the attack on Wycome.

Duke Basilius’s man servant led them to a door and paused before it. Was this where they were keeping Dashana, just past this door? Nerves started to rumble in her gut, constricting her chest and making Delani feel nauseous. She eyed the door as though it were a living beast, anxious to find who awaited her past its threshold.

Turning to face her companions, Delani was surprised to find that both men seemed just as apprehensive as she felt, though she assumed for different reasons. After clearing away the nervousness that had started to accumulate in her throat, she stated, “You can both find your quarters if you wish. Our journey has been tiring. I understand if you would like to call it a night.”

The expression that fell over Solas’s features shifted with her words, going from disappointed, to incredulous, before settling on disgruntled. “We stand with you, Inquisitor.”

His support was more welcome than Delani anticipated it being. Shifting her gaze onto Cullen, she inspected his features to find that he too would not be swayed from joining her past that door. Delani peered into his guarded amber eyes and the tightness in her chest grew viselike. Professionalism painted his expression, and Delani realized that he followed her now because she was a dog without a leash and someone had to restrain her.

She cracked her knuckles with her thumb before turning toward Terrance and nodding for him to open the door. The human grabbed the metal handle and pulled open the heavy entryway. A blast of air, muddy with humidity and the smell of earth, escaped from within. It was dark beyond the entrance, the nearest torch was some distance down the steep stairwell and gave off only enough light to see each step as it came.

Delani’s mouth screwed with disgust. Anger started to swelter through her blood. Turning her glare onto the man servant, she growled, “A dungeon?” Was this Duke Basilius’s idea of hospitality? This was his ‘show of good faith’? First her entire clan was massacred in his streets, and now he held the only survivor prisoner? She was going to have his head.

“Please, Messere,” Terrance gestured toward the stairwell, instructing her to follow it down.

Gritting her teeth to keep from grabbing the man by the throat and shoving him down the stairs, Delani turned toward the stairwell. She took in a deep, leveling breath before stepping into the ominous torchlight.

The air grew heavier the further down they went, the atmosphere was full of a melancholy that spoke to Delani on a metaphysical level. Her stomach fell with each step. The descent would have her doubled over in a fit of tears by the time she reached the bottom, she was sure of it.

Though quiet, the suddenness of Solas’s voice was a shocking contrast to the foreboding silence encompassing them. “Do you feel that?” he asked, wonder and apprehension ringing in his undertones.

Neither she nor Cullen responded to his question, and it didn’t appear as though the mage had been expecting them to. There was a dreadful energy in this chasm of despair, but that didn’t mean that they needed to discuss it. Solas would be exploring this pit of hopelessness tonight in his visit to the Fade, that much was certain.

When they reached the bottom, Delani was relieved to find that the hall, and the room thereafter, were both better lit than the stairwell they’d just abandoned. She started down the short hall, noting the empty cells and rooms lined with shackles. Anticipation and agitation were burning in her gut, getting hotter and hotter the further in they went. If she found that Dashana and been mistreated in any way after the slaughter of their clan, she did not know what she would do. The demand for blood was too loud already, the addition of her clan-mate being abused would make it impossible to ignore.

Once they stepped out of the hall and into the attached room, Delani was surprised to find a Templar standing guard. He seemed just as surprised to have visitors and was quick to investigate their purpose in these dungeons. As Delani gave him a disgusted once over she supposed that she shouldn’t have been taken aback by his presence at all. Dashana was a mage, and Templars were jailers by profession.

Glaring up at the human in heavy armor, Delani’s voice was dangerously calm and level when she stated, “I am the Inquisitor and have been made to understand that you are holding a friend of mine here.”

He jumped to attention at her words, “Herald,” he was suddenly breathless, caught off guard at being face to face with the one ‘chosen’ by his Maker’s bride. “I- well… yes, Your Worship. I have been stationed to guard an elven mage.”

Eyes narrowing to slits, she demanded, "Where?” and the one word spurred him to action.

“Right this way, Your Worship,” he stammered as he led them down the cellblock to where his ward was being held captive.

Delani followed the Templar down the cellblock. She swallowed hard to stifle the nervousness spreading through her gut, and focused only on the task at hand. Her reaction would depend heavily on who Duke Basilius had contained in this dungeon, and how they’d been treated while in his care. And, for the sake of her companions, she would attempt to control her emotions until all questions were answered.

The Templar stopped in front of the last cell, where the torch on the nearby wall burned bright enough to see everything within with perfect clarity. The cell was spacious, clean by dungeon standards, and had been furnished to look like a guest room belonging in the estate above. The bed, though only big enough for one person, was piled high with thick blankets and fluffed pillows. Spread across the cold stone floor was a plush carpet, finely designed and meant to soften the cell to appear more like a bedchamber. There was a desk in the corner, where a candle was burning beside a pile of books that appeared to have gone untouched.

Her gaze moved to the corner of the cell. There was someone curled up in the corner and Delani immediately recognized the head of blonde hair. The prisoner had her face hidden behind her folded arms, and even then Delani was able to recognize her slender frame, her long limbs that were toned with lean muscle. The sides of her head were shaved, revealing the true extent of her vallaslin. Delani would know those markings anywhere.

She gripped the prison bars and breathlessly whispered, “Dashana.”

When the woman looked up from her arms and met Delani’s gaze, her blue eyes widened with shock. “Delani,” she gasped and clamored onto her feet. Dashana took a tentative step forward, and there was a disbelieving glimmer in her blue eyes.

Throwing a furious glare onto the Templar, Delani fiercely demanded him to, “Open the door,” and gave it an impatient shake as he fumbled with his keys in his panic to do as instructed.

“She was discovered after the attack,” the Templar explained as he opened the cell door. The sound of the tumblers giving was punctuated by the uncertainty in his voice. “Duke Basilius had her roomed in his guest quarters but she nearly burned the whole wing down with her magic. He had her moved here and has tried to make it as comfortable for her as possible.”

Delani bit back any reply she had for the Templar. The Duke had caged her clan-mate, whatever his reasons were the line from guest to prisoner had been crossed. With the door open, she shoved her way inside and took Dashana into her arms.

The female mage fell into Delani’s embrace with a sob, her arms curling around Delani’s neck and she buried her face into her shoulder. They fell to their knees in unison, the First crumbling under the weight of all that she had seen and lost, and the fact that she no longer had to carry the burden of it alone.

Dashana was a tall woman, much taller than Delani, and it was strange to have her hunched over to such a size that Delani was able to wrap her up in her arms with little effort. She stroked the woman’s blonde hair and rocked with her back and forth as her tears soaked through Delani’s cloak.

“You’re here,” she cried, her voice muffled against Delani’s shoulder. Her fingers clutched desperately at Delani, holding her impossibly close, clinging on to the last remnant there was of clan Lavellan. “Ma garam.”

She rubbed Dashana’s back as she held her, the friction acting to comfort her and quiet her cries. Into her hair Delani replied, “Of course I came.” She only wished that she’d come sooner.

It was a sentiment that they both shared.

“Too late,” Dashana lamented, her tears still falling with no indication of stopping. Her gripped moved from around Delani’s neck and down the front of her cloak until she had her seized by the lapel. She shook Delani, her pained expression tightening with anger and betrayal.

Tears continued to stream down her face as she grit out, “We sent warning that the other cities were gathering forces, we told you that they were coming! Why didn’t you send an army?”

Delani allowed herself to be jostled by the other woman, allowed her words to pierce through what little remained of her heart and smash it to even smaller fragments. It was nothing that she hadn’t been saying to herself already. Diminutively, she supplied, “Because I wanted to resolve the matter peacefully.”

The mage woman’s grip on her coat tightened until her knuckles were ghostly in color. Her expression pinched with rage. “Peace,” she repeated incredulously, blue eyes searching Delani’s features as though she were trying to gauge the sincerity of her words, looking as though she were speaking a tongue that she didn’t understand.

“Your attempts at ‘peace’ resulted in the slaughter of our clan”

Shoving away from Delani, Dashana seethed, “You did this.” Her eyes were sharp pin pricks, flaying the flesh right from Delani’s bones. “Our clan is dead because of you.”

All Delani could do was stare up at the other woman. After a moment passed her gaze fell to the floor and she exhaled, “I know.”

“Bigoted noblemen killed your clan,” Cullen’s voice broke the silence that followed and corrected them both. When she peered over her shoulder to meet the Commander’s gaze it was to find him boring down Dashana with a severe seriousness in his eyes. There would be no argument on this topic, not while he stood close. “Inquisitor Lavellan only did what she thought was best. She could not have foreseen what would happen, and she is not to blame. She also lost her clan, same as you.”

Her gaze remained on Cullen, gratitude warming her insides as she inspected the sincerity in his handsome features. Even if he was wrong in this, Delani appreciated that he would speak up in her defense. It felt foolish to interpret his words as his lingering feelings for her. After how far she had pushed him, after the rage demon she had become, Delani doubted that he could ever truly love her again. She had lost him, and couldn’t even blame it on Marcher nobles.

Squeezing her eyes shut to fight the wave of despair that crashed over her, Delani pushed herself back up onto her feet and stared apologetically at Dashana. Still looking at her clan-mate, when Delani spoke it was to the Templar. “Dashana will be staying with me in my chambers.” She glanced back at the man and saw the flustered surprise in his eyes through the shadow of his helmet.

After a moment of uncertainty, the Templar bowed his head and relinquished his ward into Delani’s care. “Of course, Lady Inquisitor.” Whatever he mumbled after that was ignored by Delani as she stepped up to Dashana and clasped the other woman’s hand between her own.

Voice low so that only Dashana could hear her, Delani whispered, “Hate me if you wish, sister, but all either of us have left is each other.”

“Void take you, Delani,” Dashana hissed, even if she made no attempt to rip herself from Delani’s hold. “Void take us both.”

Supper was just as awkward as he had anticipated it being. Duke Basilius had insisted upon it out of propriety, and Cullen had attended out of precaution. When it came to Delani, and how she might act toward the nobleman, it was better to stand the buffer between them than to risk an international incident. Delani was still volatile, and he could not trust her to prioritize the Inquisition’s standing over her feelings of loss; no matter how legitimate they were.

Cullen did have to give it to the Duke, however. He took each biting comment from the Inquisitor in stride, and valiantly fought a losing battle to keep the atmosphere around the table pleasant. Please just stop talking, had been Cullen’s internal mantra throughout the meal. Delani only spoke when prompted to do so and whatever filter she’d obtained while working with the Inquisition had been lost with her clan.

By this point, both he and Solas were well accustomed to Delani’s aggressive demeanor and ill-controlled tongue. Her sharp words came as no surprise to either of them, and they hurried through the meal for the sake of ending it quickly. When their plates were cleared it came as a great relief, they excused themselves from the table and Duke Basilius was wise to follow their lead.

Now, nearly an hour later, Cullen found himself in the manor’s library taking advantage of the immense selection to distract himself from his growing migraine, and the fear of what dreams awaited him in his borrowed bedchamber. Leafing through the pages of a military analysis concerning Andraste’s war against Tevinter, he pinched the bridge of his nose and clamped his eyes shut when an especially excruciating pain throbbed through his skull. The words were blurring on the page, and still he preferred this torment over the nightmares to come.

With his focus on rubbing the pain accumulating just behind his brow, Cullen nearly did not notice that he was no longer alone. He peered past his hand to find a bald male elf striding into the library, with his hands held behind his back and his attention on the vast collection of literature to be found.

“This is quite the impressive assortment of knowledge,” Solas observed, his gaze still on the books encompassing them rather than the man he was speaking with. “How long do you think it would take to read them all?”

Cullen shut the book in his hand and set it down on the table before him. Leaning back in his chair, he sighed through his nose and answered Solas’s question. “More time than we have.”

The elven man scoffed in agreement. “Indeed,” he murmured before finally looking over to meet the commander’s gaze. He looked over Cullen with concern in his eyes, “So,” the apostate started as he walked the short distance to where Cullen was seated. He pulled out the chair opposite of him and gracefully lowered himself into the seat.

Once he was settled, Solas rested his elbows on the table’s surface and steepled his fingers together in front of his mouth. After forcing a half hearted smile, that was more akin to a grimace, onto his lips he commented, “Today has been… eventful.”

It was Cullen’s turn to scoff in agreement. Instead of replying to Solas’s statement, he finally allowed himself to pursue his curiosity. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and braced himself for the worst before asking, “What did you and Lady Lavellan encounter in the Fade?”  it wasn’t as though they were in Wycome on official Inquisition business. Delani would not be writing a report on what she had seen, and Cullen seriously doubted that she would tell him herself.

Silence followed his question and Solas’s expression grew distant as he visibly considered how to answer. With a heavy shake of his head, and an exhale that weighed just as much, he supplied, “It was worse than anything that even I could have anticipated.” The man paused and his gaze fell onto the table that divided them. He didn’t look up as he carried on with his recollection.

“I have seen many atrocities while in the Fade. My journeys have led me to battlefields and slaughter-grounds more times than I can count. But what happened here to the Inquisitor’s clan…” he shook his head again before snapping back into focus and looking Cullen in the eyes once more. “Perhaps it is because the Inquisitor is my friend, but the massacre of clan Lavellan was a horror and it, like many others, will be forgotten by history.”

Cullen’s heart fell into his stomach. In his gut he had known that whatever they found in the Fade would be a horror beyond description, and he had thought that he was prepared to hear the confirmation of that knowledge. The truth of the matter, however, was that it was impossible to prepare himself for the magnitude of all that Delani had lost. The loss was his only by extension, and it shook Cullen straight to the core. He could not begin to imagine the impact it had on Delani herself.

Feeling he knew the answer to his next question before it even left his lips, Cullen inquired, “How did Lady Lavellan react to the memories?”

The expression that overcame Solas’s features was something between horrified and empathetic. “About the same as one would expect when witnessing your kin and clan be massacred like cattle.” When he met Cullen’s gaze again he must have noticed the concern in his eyes because Solas immediately followed with, “She demands blood, Commander, but I somehow managed to dissuade her from collecting it.”

Cullen’s relieved sigh was echoed by a warning, “Her fuse is short. It would take less than a sideways glance for her decide to sate her anger with the lives of Marcher nobility.” Very seriously, Solas inserted, “However we proceed it must be with caution. Delani needs your strength now more than ever, Commander. Without you I doubt that she will make it through this whole.”

He didn’t respond, Cullen didn’t know how. An ache started at the base of his skull and pulsed its way to the back of his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he squeezed his eyes shut and steadied his breathing in a vain attempt to quell his migraine. Solas spoke with such certainty, such conviction, yet all it inspired in Cullen was doubt.

Delani didn’t want Cullen to be her strength. She didn’t want him to have anything to do with the emotional turmoil reaping havoc inside of her. How many times had she shunned his support already? How many times had she turned away from him, preferring solitude over his love and affection? So many times that he had already lost count, and each time hurt more than the last.

For the sake of his own sanity and emotional well being, the best solution was to put space between them. Delani had rebuilt walls he’d thought he had scaled long ago, and they stood stronger and taller than they had ever been. The pain of how completely, and seemingly effortlessly, she had shut him out was too much for him to contend with.

He had no intention of making the slaughter of clan Lavellan about him, but the impact it had on his relationship with the woman he loved was as devastating a force as the Breach in the sky. And still, Cullen was having a difficult time rationalizing his hurt feelings when Delani had lost so much. As much as he wanted to believe that, at least at the moment, his emotions or desires were not important, he had to remind himself that they were.

For all of Solas’s claims that Delani needed his help, the facts remained unchanged. Cullen could not help someone who did not want it. Looking the apostate in the eyes again, Cullen breathed in slowly and exhaled through his nose.

“Thank you for your insight, Solas,” he said with a grateful bow of his head. “It is appreciated.”

Taking Cullen’s words for what they were, a dismissal, Solas knocked his knuckles against the table's surface before standing up. “I will leave you to your thoughts, Commander.” With a departing bow of his head, he finished, “Have a restful evening. I have a feeling that our business in Wycome has only just begun.”

Cullen watched the male elf’s back as he left the library. Once he was alone again he sunk into his seat and leaned his head back against the backrest. Staring up at the vaulted ceiling, Cullen inspected the rafters with little interest.

His thoughts were on the brief conversation with Solas and what had become of his relationship with Delani. A feeling of loss rang through him like the resonating chime of Chantry bells. The pain was great enough to break his personal defenses. With his fissuring guard came water to his eyes. Tears pricked at his sinuses and Cullen sniffed away the unexpected assault.

He rubbed at his eyes before the moisture gathered there could fall. Grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes, Cullen made a distressed sound when the action sent another painful pulse through his head. Maker blast these migraines and the night terrors that accompanied them.

“How bad is it?” The suddenness of Delani’s voice jolted him from his seat. Sitting upright again, he was met by a pair of guarded sea green eyes. Delani was standing across from him with her hands held behind her back. She was analyzing him, searching his appearance for pain or distress, and Cullen quickly masked any that she might find.

His chest constricted and his stomach tied itself in knots. Feelings of loss and anger vied  for dominance inside of him, and Cullen swallowed down the desire to succumb to either. For a second he merely watched Delani as she watched him, his jaw working as his thoughts raced and his emotions twisted.

With a level and even voice he provided, “It’s manageable,” reverting to a protective professionalism that had shielded him so well in the past.

Delani sighed through her nose and her lips pursed with something that could be easily interpreted as displeasure. Moving her hands from behind her back, she tossed a small cloth sack onto the table between them. Instead of reaching for the pouch, Cullen held her gaze with expectation in his eyes and waited for her to explain what she’d proffered.

“For your headache,” Delani clarified with an impatient gesture toward her gift. When Cullen finally loosened the string securing it, he found a handful of thinly sliced strips of wood within. Willow bark, a proven remedy that helped to lessen his migraines.

His silence made her shift her weight from one foot to another, and when it went on too long her voice filled the quiet of the library. “You’ve been rubbing the back of your neck all day today.” Cullen’s gaze fell to her hip as she toyed with the handle of the carving knife secured to her belt, the one he’d given her to replace the knife he now wore on his own belt.

Cullen’s attention was still on her knife when Delani murmured, “I thought it might help.”

With a blink, he returned his attention to her face and held her distant gaze. The wall that now stood between them was so strong that it felt like it had a physical presence in the room. They were divided, separated by distrust and pain.

Grinding his back molars, Cullen dipped his head in gratitude and stoically stated, “My thanks, Inquisitor.”

Delani’s brows rose toward her hairline as she regarded him. She folded her arms over her bust and gave him a piercing look. “Cullen,” was her vexed exhale.

Before her next words could fall from her lips, Cullen interjected. “What is our objective here in Wycome now that you’ve witnessed the memories, Inquisitor?” he asked, reminding her that their purpose for coming had been met. If and why they were staying, as well as what would happen if they did, were all questions that only Delani had answers to. And she wasn’t sharing anything with either him or Solas.

Her expression pinched with distaste and Delani’s green eyes sharpened. With a dangerously low voice, she answered his question with a question. “Are you asking as my advisor, or as my handler?”

The pain that jolted through his chest was sharper than the look she was currently boring into him. “Is that what you think of me?” He had tried to be supportive, he had tried to be understanding, it was she who kept pushing him away and now Cullen understood why.

“You think I’m trying to control you.”

Delani blanched. “What?” She blinked hard and shook her head before sputtering, “No, of course not,” only to stall out with a quiet, “It’s just that…”

Impatience grew inside of him, sizzling through his bloodstream like a volt of electricity. They were back at this game, talking circles around each other; or rather, not saying anything of substance at all.

Leaning forward into her dropped gaze, Cullen pressed, “It’s just that what?”

At the sound of his tone her back turned rigid. Delani’s eyebrows knitted together and her lips twisted into a scowl. “You are a shemlan,” she bit out through clenched teeth. “You could not begin to understand.”

He inhaled sharply at her words, but managed not to flinch away from them. Did she really think so little of him, to regard him as nothing more than another human? But he knew that it was more than that; by calling him shemlan she was equating him to the monsters who murdered her family, when all that he had in common with them was the fact that they were human.

It was a thing of wonder how effortless it was for her to tear him apart. Cullen had to choke down the part of him that tried to justify her behavior with the magnitude of all that she had lost.

Cullen pushed his chair back and stood from the seat. He held Delani’s glare for only  a second before turning on his heel and starting for the door. When Delani called after him with anger and distress in her voice, it took a great deal to not just ignore her and continue on his way.

“Where are you going?” she barked, her tone vibrating with fear, panic was nearly indiscernible  in the undercurrents of her voice. He stopped part way toward the exit and she said to his back, “I’m talking to you.”

Fire flared in his gut, lapping at what little patience he had left until it was all but gone. “No,” he replied, turning slowly to meet her gaze again, “you’re not, Inquisitor. We don’t ‘talk’ anymore, we haven’t ‘talked’ since this whole ordeal started.”

“You mean the slaughter of my clan,” she clarified with a challenging quirk of her eyebrow, daring him to question the legitimacy of her behavior.

His lip curled back and Cullen shook his head. “You always do this.”

Features widening with surprise, after she processed his words Delani’s expression narrowed again with offense. “Do what,” she inquired with a venomous tone.

“You shut me out,” he answered. Cullen could no longer be bothered to keep his rioting emotions it check. They had to come out or they would continue to destroy him without her even noticing. “The moment that things get difficult you push me away.”

Her lips thinned but Delani’s only reply was to hold his gaze. Her auburn brows were furrowed with displeasure and her nostrils flared as she breathed, but she did not argue with his point, so Cullen continued on with it.

Maintaining her gaze he recalled, “You did it when McGregor abducted you, and you are doing it now, and you can’t even tell me why.”

Delani’s jaw worked, silence her weapon as she stared at him. Unable to endure her silence, he challenged, “Can you?” and nearly lost what little control he had over his temper when she merely raised her chin in response.

In two long strides he closed the distance between them and stopped his hands from grabbing her by her arms and giving her  good shake. Instead Cullen looked deeply into the bottomless green of her eyes and exclaimed, “I love you, Delani! I love you more than I have ever loved anything in my entire life. But you cannot keep shutting me out the moment when things become difficult.”

“I don’t,” she argued, lacking conviction or insistence. Not even she believed her own words because there was no denying the truth in Cullen’s.

His eyes sharpened and he gave her a stern look. “You do,” corrected Cullen. “When life is good and without problems, only then do you feel that it is appropriate to share it with me. But the second things turn for the worst and become challenging you push me away.”

When his hand reached up to her cheek it was by its own intention, but Cullen caught himself before their skin made contact. Balling his fingers into a fist, he lowered his hand back to his side and shut his eyes with heavy lids. The breaths he pulled into his lungs were long and deep, cooling his blood and leveling his thoughts.

“At the beginning of our relationship you had said that you wanted to be open and honest with one another, and yet you decide when that rule applies to you.” With a shake of his head, Cullen lifted his attention from the ground to meet Delani’s teary gaze and swallowed hard to steel his resolve. “I want to be with you, Delani,” he admitted, “I want to have a future with you. But I cannot be with someone who does not trust me.”

Her hands shot up then, clasping one of his in both of hers. “I do trust you, Cullen.”

His gaze fell to their hands and his heart lurched in his chest. This was the first time in over a week that she had sought contact from him without him giving it freely first. Cullen didn't realize how terribly he had missed seeing how completely his larger hands dwarfed hers in size.

With another shake of his head he argued her words. “You don’t, and I doubt that you can even tell me why.” Straightening his spine, Cullen inhaled another deep breath before he dismissed himself from Delani’s company. “I want to be with you through whatever life throws at us, both good and bad. But you refuse me when the bad comes to pass. I cannot be with someone who does not trust me, who does not respect me as her partner, and who cannot rely on me to be her strength when she needs it most.”

“I love you, Delani,” he said again, “but I cannot be with only a part of you. I have given the entirety of myself over to you, and I need the same of you in return. Until you can give me that I must be your advisor above all else.”

Cullen stepped away from Delani and started for the exit again. This time when she called after him he let her beckon go unacknowledged. His heart broke with each step that separated them, but he could not turn back on his words now. As much as he loved Delani, he couldn’t continue to subject himself to the damage her behavior was inflicting. The walls she had erected between them were too strong and too tall for him to break through or climb. Only she could topple them down, and if she ever managed to do so she would find him waiting to welcome her back into his loving embrace.

Until then Cullen had to do what was best for the Inquisition, and also what was best for himself, no matter how sick to his stomach the pain of it made him.

Chapter Text

The acoustics of the room magnified the despondency of Delani’s voice as she sang, the melody was accompanied by the trickle of moving water.

“Melava inan enansal
ir su araval tu elvaral
u na emma abelas
in elgar sa vir mana
in tu setheneran din emma na…”

The knot in her throat prevented her from singing the rest. The tears stabbing her sinuses kept her from wanting to. Would this pain ever leave her? She doubted it, and that was what scared her the most. Delani had already lost her clan and she could feel herself fading too. The person she had been was buried too deep, and the person she had become was a monster who cared for no one’s feelings but her own.

Only a monster could have said the things she’d said to Cullen. Only a monster could go this long without apologizing.

Focusing all of her attention on wringing the soapy water from the washcloth in her hands, Delani watched as the liquid dripped back into the tub.

“You think that this will redeem you from all that you've done?”

Delani’s gaze remained on the water, watching the droplets fall until the washcloth was merely damp and no longer sopping wet. She didn’t so much as flinch from Dashana’s venomous voice, there was no reason to.

Flinching from the truth would not make it untrue.

She started to scrub the cloth over Dashana’s pale skin, cleaning away the memory of Basilius’s dungeon from the mage’s surface. The soapy water was warm, despite the other woman’s freezing glare, and smelled of flower essence. Wiping the cloth over Dashana’s arm all the way up to her shoulder, Delani squeezed the wash cloth and watched the water trickle down the other woman’s pale skin back into the tub.

Without looking away from her task, Delani quietly replied, “I will never have redemption, Dashana; we both know that.”

The other woman’s icy glare was on Delani for a moment, colder than the Frostbacks in the deep, dead of winter. Satisfied that Delani wouldn’t argue with her on the topic of her guilt, she turned her glare elsewhere and let out a bitter huff through her nose.

Silence was heavy in the room, suffocating in its unrelenting weight. Even as the magnitude of the soundless despair threatened to crush her alive, Delani felt no need to break it. Let it crush her. Let it take the last part of her that was capable of caring. She no longer needed it.

When the water started to cool and Dashana was clean, Delani stood from beside the tub and walked over to the bed to grab a towel. The sound of dripping water bounced off of the walls of the room and Delani turned to find the mage standing in wait. She handed the towel to Dashana before returning to the bed where the other woman’s freshly cleaned clothes were neatly folded.

Delani fingered over the mage’s robes, felt the thread work under her fingertips and shut her eyes to remember a similar pair her mother owned. Used to own… all of Keeper Milathara’s possessions were lost now, leaving Delani with nothing but memories. She shook away the thought and passed the clothing over into Dashana’s possession.

“There was a shemlan boy,” Dashana’s voice broke the silence, it followed after Delani as she strode toward the window to peer out at Wycome’s early afternoon bustle. “He was a street urchin, blond hair, blue eyes, can’t be any older than seven summers—“

“Jack,” Delani provided, nodding that she knew who Dashana was referring to.

The mage’s voice was muffled as she pulled on her robes over her head. “You know what has become of him?” she asked. “I was supposed to watch over the boy, but we were separated when the Duke’s men found me.”

She didn’t respond immediately, too distracted by the sight of the populated streets to acknowledge that the other woman had asked her a question. At the sound of her name, Delani blinked herself back into focus and turned away from the window. “He’s fine,” she assured the only clan-mate she had left. “I believe that Harhen Kali has been watching over him since I had the gates to the alienage reopened.”

A single eyebrow rose in reply to Delani’s revelation. “You did that?” she asked, sounding unconvinced.

Delani frowned at the sound of the disbelief in Dashana’s voice. What did the other woman expect? Delani’s decision to send emissaries instead of soldiers may have killed their clan, but it hardly meant that she didn’t care about her people. Instead of answering, Delani merely held Dashana’s surprised gaze with expressionless detachment.

Dashana was the first to break away from their locked gaze. She started to braid the lengthy blonde hair that ran along her scalp, revealing the vallaslin on the shaved sides of her head, and turned toward the looking glass at the far end of the room. “At any rate, I would like to check in on Jack. Your mother placed the boy under my protection, and I protect my charges.”

Gaze falling to the floor, Delani suppressed whatever rebuke that started to form behind her clenched teeth. The mage had every right to resent her, she had every right to be angry. Delani deserved every biting comment and hateful glare. She deserved so much worse.

When Dashana sat before the vanity, her attention on braiding her hair, Delani came to stand behind her. She didn’t meet the woman’s glare in the mirror as she took the locks of blonde hair from the First’s hands and into her own. Braiding the silky strands, her attention remained on the pale yellow ropes as she placed one lock over the other in a continuous pattern, before conceding to the woman’s request.

“I will take you to him,” she promised. “But first I must speak with Duke Basillius.”

She felt it when Dashana’s blue eyes narrowed on her through the mirror. “What about?” she investigated, distrust poorly hidden in her tone.

Clenching her teeth, Delani sucked in a deep breath through her nose before letting it out slowly past her lips. Confident that she could maintain a neutral tone, she answered, “It is an Inquisition matter.” She didn’t wait for the other woman to argue with her, didn’t give her the chance to insist on being let in on what Delani had planned. “Once that is finished I’ll meet you in the foyer and we will check in on Jack.”

A scoff sounded from Dashana and the hold Delani had on her hair was the only thing that stopped her from shaking her head properly. “I’m going with you when you meet the Duke.” Her tone was matter-of-fact and left little room for argument; not that Delani would have bothered with an attempt.

Wordlessly she tied a leather band around the end of Dashana’s braid, and allowed it to fall from her grasp. The braid was long and elegant, a rope of white gold that caught the daylight and shined like a beacon. Delani had always loved braiding the mage’s hair. They had been raised like sisters, but that bond had weakened with Delani’s involvement with the Inquisition, and then broken to a million pieces with the massacre of their clan. They were no longer sisters, they weren’t even clan-mates anymore; all they were now elves and that was not a tying bond.

Delani stepped away from Dashana and turned toward the door. “Come, if you want to see the Duke,” she said before pulling the door open and leaving the guest quarters behind. Not having it in her to care what Dashana did, Delani started down the hall toward the Duke’s office where she knew he would be.

The walk was long and silent as they strode through the estate with Dashana on her heels, eager to discover what it was Delani wanted to discuss with Wycome’s Duke. They almost made it to the door of his office before Delani was forced to a stop by the gruffness of a familiar voice.

“Inquisitor Lavellan.” Cullen called her moving feet to a halt and Delani stared at the door to Duke Basilius’s office before grimacing at the floor and turning around to face him.

His expression was hard, bent with distrust as his gaze went over Delani’s head to the door of Basilius’s office and back again. When he noticed Dashana standing behind her, Cullen placed his hand on the pommel of his sword and tightened his jaw. Delani didn’t know what it was that Cullen felt toward Dashana, but she could tell by his amber eyes that the sentiments were far from agreeable.

To Delani he asked, “Were you looking to speak to the Duke?”

The lurch of her heart nearly pulled a wince onto her face. Delani’s fingernails almost broke the skin of her palms from how tightly she was squeezing her fists to keep her features expressionless. Her insides were screaming, tearing her apart in a rage, demanding that she fall to her knees and beg for his forgiveness for the horrible way that she had been treating him. Something kept her knees from buckling and a part of her insisted that it was better that he hate her. Even if it was only a small part of her, it was stronger than the rest.

She lifted her chin and nodded curtly. “I am. Is he in his office?” The question was needless, she already knew the answer.

Cullen hesitated before letting loose a defeated sigh. He knew her as only a lover could, and recognized that she would not back down from what she had come to do. Either Cullen joined her or he left her to her own devices. The decision was in his eyes before his lips formed his answer.

With a single nod he stated, “He is,” and quickly asked, “Mind if I join you?” It wasn’t a question. Cullen was going into that office with her, and she knew him just as well as he knew her. He would not back down either.

“Not at all, Commander,” she replied with a shrug, and it was the truth. Whatever had become of their relationship, Delani still drew strength from his presence. He could hate her, but he would never stop being her comfort.

Swallowing down the mass of emotions that had started to take root in her throat at the sight of Cullen, Delani swiveled back around and closed the distance between her and the office door, before knocking on its wooden surface. She could feel both Dashana and Cullen’s gazes on her back as they waited for an answer. Tension was thick in the air, made heavier by the expectant silence that accompanied it.

After a moment the silence was broken by the Duke’s wary, “Come in.”

When Delani pushed the door open the three of them strode into the room and Duke Basilius stood from his seat. “Lady Inquisitor,” he stated before clearing the surprise from his throat. “I did not expect you.”

She hummed, unsurprised and unconvinced. Delani had made no secret of her intention of speaking with Duke Basilius the moment she was able. It was the reason that the man had retreated to his office since their arrival. The man was dreading this conversation and what it would bring, and he was wise to do so.

Duke Basilius gestured to one of the seats in front of his elegant desk, and when Delani remained standing he cleared his throat again before sitting back down. “How may I be of service, Your Worship?”

Delani took hold of her wrist behind her back and straightened out her spine. Her demeanor changed to match her many titles, and she projected her authority with such emphasis that the Duke visibly shifted in his seat to brunt the force of it. “I’ve come to discuss what happened to my people within your city’s walls.”

“Inquisitor—“ he attempted to interrupt, wanting to dissuade her from recourse no doubt.

She spoke over him as though he hadn’t said anything at all. “An entire Dalish clan was massacred in your streets, Lord Duke. Over two hundred innocent lives lost to Marcher soldiers, not all of them belonging to my clan. Had they been humans a war would have been waged.”

The tension that had filled the room upon her arrival had been uncomfortable. With her words it had become overpowering, seemingly affecting everyone aside from her. She lifted her chin, daring the noble to say something to the contrary. Her words were true and denying them was pointless.

The nobleman swallowed hard, his adams apple bobbing as he gulped down his dread. “What is it that you are saying, Inquisitor?”

“I am saying that, had my people been human, retaliation would have been expected; accepted, even,” she supplied. Delani felt Cullen shift his weight from one foot to the other behind her, could feel the weight of his gaze on her back. After a moment of enduring the ever-growing tension unflinchingly, she continued with her point. “Since we are elves, however, recourse against this atrocity never even crossed your minds.”

Tone cold, emotionless, and full of promise, Delani instructed the Duke to, “Contact every single one of the nobles who gathered forces against my clan. Tell them that I have summoned them to meet with me, and to refuse this assembly is to declare war against the Inquisition.”

Duke Basilius gasped at the severity of her declaration and the discomfort in the room doubled in size. “You can’t be serious,” he stammered, testing either her resolve or her patience.

With the quirk of a single eyebrow, Delani held the Duke’s horrified gaze as she spoke to her general. “Commander Cullen, how long would it take for a sizable force of Inquisition soldiers to gather in the Free Marches?”

Cullen stalled as he decided whether or not he should answer. If he didn’t it would show the Duke that they were not a unified force in this. It would reveal a weakness, and word would spread that the Inquisition no longer stood behind its leader. But answering could mean war against the Free Marches, when they were waist deep in one already.

After nearly a minute of silence, Cullen finally answered. “Weeks, perhaps less,” his voice was strained with displeasure, hating that he was playing any part in this.

The uncertainty grew in Duke Basilius’s blue eyes, and he appeared less eager to test Delani on the matter. Cullen had stood behind her. If the Inquisitor demanded blood, then the Inquisition would collect. At least that was the case as far as the Duke knew.

When the Duke fell back into his seat, resigned to his task and the fate that would become of him should he refuse to perform it, Delani concluded the impromptu meeting. “All of those responsible for the deaths of innocents will be held accountable, Duke Basilius. Of that you can be certain.”

Turning around, she was met by the surprised gazes of her companions and nodded curtly that their business was done here. She strode past Cullen and Dashana back out into the hallway, and started for the estate’s exit. Delani had spoken to Duke Basilius, she had told Dashana that she would help her locate Jack immediately afterword. She would keep her word, it didn’t matter if it was made to a clan-mate or a duke.

Once they were far enough from Duke Basilius’s office, Cullen wrapped his fingers around her arm and pulled Delani to a stop. He turned her to face him, his brows furrowed and expression tight with displeasure. “Do you want to tell me what that was about, Inquisitor?” He gave Dashana a sideways glance, registering that they were not alone to have this argument. “Can you please explain to me why you placed me in a position where I either backed you or jeopardized the whole of the Inquisition?”

Delani’s entire chest tightened as her insides twisted into knot after knot. She held his amber gaze and felt sick to her stomach. Just say it, a voice in the back of her mind seethed. Just apologize. The words were banging against her teeth, wanting to be released, needing to be given voice, but when she opened her mouth it wasn’t a plea for forgiveness that came out.

“I needed the Duke to see that I will not be denied.” Cullen shook his head, the movement heavy with disapproval, and Delani set her jaw. Evenly, she swore to him, “The crimes committed here will be answered, Commander. How they are answered depends entirely on the Marchers who ordered them.”

Several seconds passed with them simply staring at one another in a silent stalemate. Neither was willing to break their gaze, or back down from the point they were trying to make. When Delani noticed pain casting a shadow in Cullen’s honeyed eyes, she finally turned away to speak to Dashana.

“Wait for me in the foyer, Lethallan,” she murmured. “I must speak with the Commander.”

Dashana appeared displeased by the instructions, but relented after a moment. “Make it quick,” she growled before stomping off to do as requested of her.

Once they were alone again, Delani met Cullen’s gaze one more time. Her heart was in her stomach when she admitted, “Enough blood has been spilled here, Cullen.” Swallowing hard, she shoved away her emotions and ground them beneath her heel. Every moment that she allowed to go by without begging his forgiveness, she could feel him slipping further and further from her grasp. The realization shook her to the core, and still the words wouldn’t come out.

Raking her fingers through her hair, Delani secured the auburn strands to the back of her neck and shook her head a bit. “I don’t want a war against the Free Marches, all I want is to make things right. And if that means that I have to intimidate some nobles into listening to me, then I will.”

His features widened with surprise. Cullen had not expected that revelation. Tentatively he asked, “You were bluffing?”

Delani’s lips thinned. She couldn’t answer that question. She didn’t know how.

A heavy sigh escaped him as Culled scratched the back of his head. The gesture was roughened with impatience and Delani felt the distance between them yawn a little wider. “I suppose that it is too much to ask for you to tell me what it is that you have planned?”

Her lips twisted and a shrug jerked her shoulders. That would require having one, when all that she had was a vague idea of what she wanted to happen. Quietly, Delani replied, “You’ll have to trust me, Commander.”

Cullen’s expression told her everything she needed to know. He no longer knew whether or not he could trust her. Say it! Delani opened her mouth but no words came out. Her heart clenched at her silence, her expression twisting with the self loathing that coursed through her veins. For all of her desire to mend the growing rift between them, there was something standing in her way; an invisible, invincible force that stole the words from her lips before she was able to say them.

Cullen sighed. The shake of his head was unsurprised. Rubbing the disheartened crease from his brow, he inquired, “Where are you taking Dashana?”

“To the alienage,” she provided, hating the professionalism between them and knowing that she had no one to blame for it save herself. Delani glanced down the long hallway that Dashana had stormed through before returning her gaze onto Cullen. Nervously tucking her bangs behind an ear, she offered, “Did you want to join us?”

He blinked and for a moment there was surprise in his eyes. A sliver of hope broke through his protective wall only to vanish completely when he blinked again. Cullen’s expression tightened and Delani could clearly see his thoughts on his features.

“Are you asking as my advisor, or as my handler?”

It was obvious that Cullen thought she was asking out of spite. To him, her offer was a provocation, a jab against his character. Delani had pushed him so far away that he could no longer recognize the sincerity in her voice or in her eyes. She was losing him.

With his hand on the pommel of his sword, Cullen lifted his chin a bit and stared down at Delani with a guarded expression. “Captain Ophelia has sent reports, and there is much to be done.” Arching a single eyebrow his voice was low, even, as he he stated, “I’m sure you’ll keep the Inquisition’s best interests in mind without my supervision.”

Eyes dropping to her feet, Delani exhaled heavily through her nose and nodded. She had done this to him. She had done this to them. It was up to her to fix it, and the necessary words simply wouldn’t come out. Cullen was as good as gone, and the loss of him was more devastating than anything she could contend with.

Fighting the tears from her eyes, Delani turned around and started down the hall. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her back as she left him standing there, and struggled to not turn around to steal a final glance. She did not have what it was going to take to win him back, and she did not know if she ever would again. Delani had lost something inside of her when she lost her clan, the additional loss of Cullen had stolen from her something even more precious.

She’d known from the start that she didn’t deserve him. It was best that he now knew it too.

Dashana was standing in the foyer, staring at one of the many portraits of Wycome’s deceased nobility as she waited for Delani. At the sound of her approach, the mage glanced at Delani and noticed something in her expression. There was no concern or sincerity in her voice when she asked, “Is everything alright?”

Feeling no need to answer, Delani walked past her toward the doors that would take them from the estate. “Let’s go,” she said, hoping her briskness would dissuade further questioning.

They left Duke Basilius’s home for the streets of Wycome, headed for the alienage in hopes of finding the human child Dashana had promised to protect. While they were out, Delani had some business to see to. Since they were headed to the alienage anyway that was where she would start. There were demands that Delani was going to make of Duke Basilius, but first she needed to ensure that the city was prepared to accept them.

Delani had expected the walk to the alienage to be a silent one. She hadn’t been prepared for the reaction that Wycome’s inhabitants would have at the sight of Dashana. The mage was pulled to a stop on multiple occasions, both human and elven hands reaching out to her, feeling to see if she was real. Words of relief were murmured, admitting to worrying about whether or not she had survived the attack. Delani could now see for herself the impact that clan Lavellan had on Wycome. It was a shame that the Marcher soldiers couldn’t have seen it too. Perhaps if they had they would have stayed their hands.

After multiple assurances that she was going to be fine, Dashana managed to pull them forward until they reached the alienage. The gates were still open and the guard posted there nodded at Delani, a wordless assurance that they would not be closed again. They entered the alienage and the elves within cheered at the sight of Dashana walking among them. She was rushed, embraced and fretted over, welcomed among them like lost kin.

Standing beside the large, imposing tree that guarded the center of the alienage was Hahren Kali. Her arm was wrapped around the shoulders of a young human child with blond hair and blue eyes, and with an encouraging nudge she motioned for the boy to welcome their guests. Dashana fell to a knee at the sight of Jack, her arms outstretched as the boy ran into her arms at full speed.

He collided into her embrace with an oomph, and Dashana squeezed him tightly. She clutched his shirt, fisting the fabric as she tried to get a handle on her emotions. Delani merely watched the reunion in respectable silence, seeing how attached Dashana had become to Jack and him to her. It did not matter that he wasn’t elvhen. Dashana regarded the child as though he were a clan-mate.

Delani stepped around the hugging pair and strode over to where Hahren Kali was watching the reunion with a soft smile on her lips. She greeted Delani with a nod. “I am glad to see that Dashana yet lives. We had all thought that she’d been killed when the Duke’s men found her.”

She hummed in acknowledgement of the elder woman’s comment, sparing Dashana another glance before moving onto her investigation. “How are things here in the alienage, Hahren?”

Surprised by Delani’s question, Kali looked up from the still hugging pair and met her gaze with confusion in her eyes. Shrugging, she provided, “We are still recovering from the attack,” before gesturing for Delani to follow her through the most impoverished part of the city. As they walked, the older woman explained, “Keeper Milathara had ordered our retreat into the alienage, hoping that the gates would protect us, but the soldiers followed us before we could get them shut. They started a fire and more than a few people lost their homes to it. We have lost family members and the roofs over our heads, and now we are just trying to take stock of what needs to be done to rebuild what was lost.”

With a backward glance, Delani made sure that Dashana wasn’t too far behind and found the mage trailing only few steps back with Jack in tow. Her gaze then moved onto the buildings surrounding them as they walked. Delani could see evidence of the fire that had been set to the alienage. Charred wood and crumbled structures stuck out as evidence of all that had occurred.

Clenching her jaw, Delani recognized the rage flaming inside of her. With a deep breath she resigned herself to the fact that she would never be rid of it. For as long as she drew breath Delani would be a beast of rage, and there was nothing that she could do to change it. So instead of focusing on her anger, she turned her focus on what needed to be done.

“What is there to do?”

The shake of Hahren Kali’s head was exasperated as she started to list off the many things that were in dire need of attention. “We need to rebuild. The general store was caught in the fire, and it had accessible supplies, herbs, poultices, things that human merchants are reluctant to sell to us. People lost their homes, and those that remain aren’t large enough to house the homeless for too long. All of that not taking into account the cost of rebuilding and resupplying. We simply do not have funds to recover from this.”

Delani nodded, understanding that the to-do list was unending. She placed a hand on the elder’s shoulder and nodded once. Voice full of determination, Delani assured her, “I will take care of it.”

The older woman placed her hand on top of Delani’s and squeezed. “You have lost so much yourself, my child. There is no need for you concern yourself with us. We will manage, we always do.”

“Our people were killed,” Delani countered, refusing to be turned away. “Both yours and mine. I do not care if you are city born, Kali, you are my people now, and I will take care of you; all of you.” She squeezed the older woman’s hand back before returning it to her side.

When she turned around Dashana was staring at her with a perturbed expression adorned on her face. Delani walked past her without comment. She hadn’t the slightest idea what the mage was thinking. And she didn’t care to learn. Either Dashana followed her, or she stayed behind with Kali. One way or the other Delani had more important things to do than worry about whether or not her clan-mate was cross with her.

Stalking through the streets of Wycome, Delani’s gaze only strayed from her path when she felt the warmth of small digits tangling through her fingers. She glanced down to find a boy with blond hair and blue eyes keeping stride beside her. Jack was looking up at her with a jovial grin.

“You came back,” he proclaimed, obviously elated by that fact.

She forced the corners of her mouth to curl upward and squeezed his hand in hers. “Of course I came back,” Delani responded. “I have a responsibility to my people.”

“The Dalish?” he guessed.

Shaking her head, Delani clarified, “All elves.” She paused, considering her words, before correcting herself, “All people, but right now it is the elves that need me the most. I am Inquisitor after all.”

Dashana was walking beside them, watching their interaction with curiosity. She looked up from Jack to meet Delani’s gaze, her features flat and unreadable. Her thoughts were her own and Delani preferred it that way.

Gaze pointed forward again, she led them to the Wycome’s Chantry. Once inside, Delani grabbed the first Sister she saw and requested to meet with the Mother.

“She is taking confessions, Your Worship,” the Sister informed her. “Once she is finished she will meet with you.”

Releasing the Sister to return to whatever pious task she’d been performing, Delani turned back around to face her companions. Dashana’s arms were folded over her bust, and she let out an impatient huff. Blonde brows were knitted with distaste as she looked around the Chantry. It was clear to see that Dashana did not like being in this house of worship, and she did not understand what they were doing there.

“Is there a reason we are here, Herald?” The way she said Delani’s given title was a jab. It was meant as an insult, an insinuation that Delani had abandoned her people, and their faith. Dashana clearly thought that Delani had been converted to the Chantry’s beliefs, discarding the ways of the Dalish for those who oppressed them.

Delani did not have the energy or willpower to correct her. Regarding Dashana coldly, she muttered, “You are free to wait outside, if you wish.”

The mage lifted her chin in defiance. Whatever business Delani had with the Mother of this Chantry, she would witness it for herself. “Something to hide, ‘Your Worship’?”

With an irritated shake of her head, Delani turned her focus elsewhere. The Chantry had only a few citizens present for prayer. Some were kneeled before the grand altar made of gold and marble, others were speaking with Sisters and Clerics, seeking advice from religious leaders that they believed they could not find elsewhere. These people’s actions were driven by their faith. The Chantry spoke and they listened. Every call to action was seen through; be it weekly confessions or an Exalted March against the Dalish.

Only a few minutes passed before they were summoned to an office in the back of the Chantry. The room was musty with the scent of old tomes. Daylight fluttered in through the windows, and illuminated the older woman standing at the far end of the room. Her robes were fitting of her station as Mother, resembling the ones that Mother Giselle wore day in and day out.

The woman greeted Delani with a bow of her head and a gentle smile on her lips. “Inquisitor Lavellan,” she started. “It is an honor to finally meet the Herald of Andraste in the flesh. I am Mother Annette. How may I be of service?”

Delani bowed her head respectfully before cutting past the pleasantries, hoping to be out of this building sooner rather than later. “I’m here about the alienage, Mother Annette.” When the older woman raised her eyebrows in surprise and intrigue, Delani explained further. “The attack on my people has affected the alienage greatly, and they are suffering the consequences of it even now. They haven’t the supplies or the funds to rebuild what they have lost, and my purpose today is to request your assistance in getting them what they need.”

Mother Annette’s mouth opened and closed as she struggled to wrap her mind around what was currently being asked of her. Discomfort cast a dark shadow over her features, trepidation filling her wrinkled complexion as she considered what it would entail. “The alienage has always been… self-reliant. This is not the first hardship that they have suffered, and they have bounced back in the past. I am sure that they will manage—“

“Are you, or are you not the leader of this flock?” Delani interrupted her before the shemlan woman could spew any more excuses as to why she couldn’t help.

Blinking repeatedly in surprise of Delani’s question, Mother Annette answered, “Of course I am.”

“Of course,” repeated Delani, folding her arms in front of her chest and sneering at the older woman. “So it is fine for the Chantry to take ‘offerings’ from its elven members, but when the time comes to put that coin to use for the good of the community suddenly you are ‘sure that they will manage’?”

With a disgusted shake of her head, Delani explained exactly why Mother Annette’s mindset was unacceptable. “The elves of that alienage are Andrastian. They share your faith, they come to your survives, they pray to your god, and fill your coffers with coin they can’t afford to spend. Marcher Soldiers attacked this city, massacred my clan, and killed any elf they could find. The elves live in hovels, and those hovels were burned to the ground. They cry for help from your god, and you are ‘sure that they will manage’?”

“The Maker calls you to a higher purpose,” Delani spat. “And that purpose is not exclusive to human kind.”

Stricken by the truth of Delani’s words, Mother Annette dipped her chin toward her chest and wrung her hands. After a moment she glanced back up at Delani, and she could see the faith in her eyes. Herald of Andraste. She was looking at Delani as though Andraste spoke directly through her, and Delani had no intention of correcting her.

If Cullen could see her now, openly accepting and even encouraging the belief of her divinity, he would have laughed… but she’d stolen his laughter and did not have what it took to get it back.

“What do you need me to do?” asked Mother Annette, appearing sincere in her request. She would do what she could to help, all Delani needed to do was brief her on what needed to be done.

Delani started down the list, rehashing all that Hahren Kali had observed earlier. She conferred with Mother Annette to set up a donation box that would help fund the reconstruction of the alienage, and they put into place a community outreach that would unify Wycome in the cause of helping the elves rebuild all that they had lost. By the time that Delani left the Chantry offices, she had arranged for Mother Annette and Hahren Kali to meet with Duke Basilius to discuss all that remained to restore what the elves had lost, and the most efficient way to do it all.

The alienage would have the Chantry’s assistance in its reconstruction. It no longer mattered that the Chantry should have been the first to help the needy, without the need of Delani’s prodding. All that mattered was that it was finally being done, and that Delani felt confident enough to entrust this task to a human.

As they started down the Chantry steps, Jack lagged behind a bit and Dashana slowed when she noticed that he wasn’t beside her. She and Delani both looked back to find the boy worrying his lip between his teeth. He looked back up at the Chantry before a heavy sigh sagged his shoulders.

With acceptance in his voice, Jack asked, “You’re going back to the palace, aren’t you?” Delani could hear in his tone that he thought it meant that they were leaving him behind.

Taking a few steps up the stairs, Delani corrected him, “We’re going back to the palace, Jack.” When his blue eyes met hers, wide with confusion, she offered him a soft smile and closed the distance between them. Delani bent over to look the boy in the eyes. She brushed his oily blond hair away from his face and said, “My mother took you in as part of the clan, Jack.”

When she glanced over her shoulder at Dashana it was to find the mage watching their exchange with guarded curiosity. Delani returned her attention onto the human boy and allowed a small smile to take shape on her lips. “You’re part of our clan now, and Dashana swore to protect you. The Dalish take care our own, and Keeper Milathara made you an honorary Dalish before she died. Where we go, you will come with us.”

Jack’s blue eyes were suddenly filled with unshed tears and Delani’s heart lurched at the sight of them. He had never belonged anywhere, and Delani had reaffirmed his place in her clan. She had given him family. Delani only wished that it had been the one her mother had promised him. Two elves and a human did not make a clan, but there was no reason for Jack to know that.

Standing upright once more, Delani ruffled the boys hair. “Now lets get moving. We have to get you cleaned up and put some warm food in your belly.” She turned and nodded for Dashana to gather the boy and keep up. They were headed back to the Duke’s estate to ensure that all that Delani had set in motion would not meet a political wall.

Hours later the last remnants of daylight were fading over the horizon. Night was taking control of the sky, and Delani, Dashana, and Jack were gathered in the guest room for the night. Dashana and the boy were on the bed, Jack’s head in her lap and her fingers combing through his freshly washed hair as he slept soundly. Duke Basilius had found clothes for the boy to wear, and supper had left him full to bursting. The moment that he and Dashana climbed into the bed, and his head landed on her lap, consciousness had loosened its hold on him and he’d succumbed to the lure of sleep.

The room was silent now as Delani stood in front of the fire and watched the flames as they moved. She didn’t move at the sound of Dashana’s voice. It took a second or two for her to process the woman’s words at all.

“I did not expect you to do all that you did today, Delani.”

She didn’t turn to face the mage woman. Winding her arms in front of her, Delani’s gaze remained on the hearth as she replied with an uninterested, “Oh?” She did not need to be able to see into Dashana’s mind to know that the other woman likely thought that Delani wasn’t going to do anything to help Wycome. She thought Delani was unworthy of redemption, and she was right. But worthy or not, redemption was not the driving force of Delani’s actions. Doing right by her people, and fixing her mistakes was.

Silence rejoined them for a moment, full of tension this time as words struggled to find voice. When the weight of the silence turned uncomfortable, Delani glanced over her shoulder at Dashana. The mage woman was staring at Delani, her eyebrows furrowed with remorse, and her hand busy with stroking Jack’s hair. Their eyes met and she sucked in a deep breath, forcing herself to speak and ease the tension that now consumed them both.

“I hated you,” she started, her voice quiet as to not stir the child resting on her lap. “The clan needed soldiers and you sent dignitaries, leaving us defenseless against attack. Our people were slain like animals and I blamed you for it.”

Clasping her eyes tightly shut, Delani nodded and hugged her middle more tightly. With a deep breath, she steeled her resolve. Whatever Dashana was about to say, Delani deserved it. She deserved the blame, she deserved the hate, and Dashana had a right to give words to her emotions. Delani would hear them, she would bear them, she owed Dashana that much; she owed her more.

A heavy sigh escaped from Dashana, almost defeated in its sound, resigned to whatever she would say next. “But today I realized that you thought you were doing the right thing.” Delani glanced wearily at the other woman, and found sympathy in her expression. “You wanted peace, and acted accordingly. You didn’t think that anything like this could have happened, because you’re an idealist and you always have been.”

Dashana paused for a second, gathering her thoughts before she spoke them. “When we got that first letter from your Ambassador, stating how you’d joined the Inquisition, I felt like the clan had lost you. The Inquisition is a Chantry led force, and you were caught in the middle of it, away from your home and your people. You were one of them now, a flat ear and an Andrastian.

“But your mother never lost hope,” Dashana stated, a faint, poignant smile hinting at the corner of her mouth. “Though leagues stand between us my daughter is not lost, she would say to me. And then bandits attacked the caravan and it was you who saved us from them. Inquisition soldiers fought with our hunters and our clan was saved; because of you, because it didn’t matter how far you were from home, you are Dalish and we protect our own.”

Tears stung the back of Delani’s eyes, a glossy film covering her vision and protecting her from the sight of Dashana’s expression. She could hear the tears in Dashana’s voice too, still unshed as she was trying to tamp down her emotions. Delani didn’t know what Dashana’s point was in all of this, and a part of her was scared to find out

“That was why when we discovered that the other Marcher cities were gathering forces to attack us, I wasn’t concerned.” The mage woman sniffed back her tears and pushed forward. “You had sent men before, you would send them again... But the men never came, our defense never came, our salvation did not show itself on the crest of a hill like it had last time. The soldiers came down on Wycome and I witnessed the massacre of our entire clan, and it was you that I blamed.”

The tears would not be suppressed any longer. Delani blinked and it sent rivulets down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away, not wanting Dashana to see them, not daring to look at the mage and admit how much she also blamed and hated herself.

Unable to stop now that she had started, Dashana continued, “I cursed you, Delani. I wished you dead. You were Andrastian now, converted to a faith not belonging to our people, and they had reeducated you, convinced you to stand against us. First the Inquisition had stolen you from us, then you abandoned us to our fate. It was easy to blame you, so unbelievably easy.”

“Please, Dashana,” Delani croaked, begging for the other woman to stop. She didn’t know how much more of this she could stand to hear. Delani had failed those she loved the most, and the last remnant of her past loathed her beyond language. It did not matter how much she deserved it, it destroyed her all the same.

“I’m not finished,” Dashana replied with a shake of her head. After a brief pause to gulp down a deep breath and steady her emotions, she started up again. “I didn’t expect for you to come when you discovered that our clan was massacred. I didn’t expect for you to care. But you did come, and you do care, and I see now that my blame and hatred were wrongfully placed on your shoulders.”

Delani started to shake her head, but Dashana spoke over whatever argument might have come out of her. “You did what you thought was right; you always do what you think is right, because you are your mother’s daughter and Keeper Milathara saw the good in everyone and was brave enough to put her faith into them.

“I should have told you this sooner, but her last words to me were instructions to tell you how much she loved you,” Dashana’s breaths were heaving now. Her fight against her tears had lost and they were now streaming down her cheeks with abandon. “She loved you so much, Delani; she was so proud of you. Not once did she lose faith in you, or blame you. Keeper Milathara saw only the good you could do as Inquisitor, and had faith in you to do it.

“And today I saw for myself that her faith was well placed. Your mother wanted to change Wycome and the position the elves had in this city. Before we were attacked, she was making moves to better things. When our people were slaughtered, I thought that any chance that elves had to improve their lives had died with the Keeper, and it was your fault. But then you came, and you picked up where your mother left off.”

There was a hitch in her voice as Dashana spoke. She wiped at the continuous flow of tears, but they kept falling. Delani had stopped trying, she let her own tears flow unhindered. With a shaky breath, the mage pressed onward.

“You demanded the Duke to gather those responsible for the deaths of our people, promising justice despite their nobility. You went into the alienage and you asked Hahren Kali to tell you what her people needed, and you didn’t even flinch when you realized that the list is unending. Then you went to the Chantry and you convinced the Mother there to help a people that she and her flock have never cared about.

“You see what needs to be done and you do it, no matter what obstacle comes your way, because that’s just who you are and who you have always been. When you were picked up by the Inquisition I felt as though I’d lost a sister, and when our clan was slaughtered I wished that you had died that day. And I am so sorry, Delani.”

Those last few words were the ones that finally broke her. She shook her head, refusing the apology, and turned her back toward Dashana so that the other woman couldn’t see her sob. With her face buried in her hands, Delani’s entire body shook as her tears wracked through her. Dashana had opened up something inside of her, something that she had sealed impossibly tight, and now there was no stopping the flood that had started.

Suddenly standing beside her, Dashana turned Delani to face her and pulled her into her embrace. She squeezed Delani tightly, rocking her as she cried, her own emotions trembling through her. With a hand cradling the nape of Delani’s neck, Dashana continued to speak softly into Delani’s ear.

“I have been a monster to you, sister, and I am so sorry. I should have never thought the things that I thought, said the things that I said, or treated you the way that I did. You did not deserve it. You lost your clan too, your mother, and your home. The blame was never yours to carry, and I am sorry that I forced it upon you.”

Delani clung on to Dashana for dear life. With a shake of her head, she sobbed, “This is my fault, Dashana. All of it.”

The mage hushed her, stroking her hair as she attempted to soothe her tears. “It’s not, Delani. You did what you thought was right. The only ones to blame are the nobles who ordered the attack and the soldiers who saw it through.” She pulled back a bit, and started to wipe the tears from Delani’s cheeks. “I’ve seen you like this only once before.”

Her heart clenched and a sob bubbled out of her when she realized where Dashana was taking this. She shook her head between the mage’s hands, but she pressed forward despite the plea in Delani’s watery eyes. “Your father’s death destroyed you, and this has affected you a thousand times more. You were inconsolable when you carried you father’s body back to the clan, and through your tears all you could do was beg for your mother’s forgiveness.

“She kept telling you that there was nothing to forgive, that you were not to blame, but you wouldn’t stop pleading for it. You are filled with more guilt now than you were then, and so I will release you from it.” Staring deeply into Delani’s eyes, Dashana’s voice was strong with sincerity, with compassion and empathy as she said, “I forgive you.”

It was more than Delani could handle. When she tried to shake her head, Dashana’s grip prevented her from doing so. “I forgive you for sending an emissary instead of an army. I forgive you for not being here. I forgive you for leaving in the first place. Our clan is dead, and I forgive you.”

Delani choked on a sob. Dashana had forgiven her, leaving her with all of this hate an anger that she didn’t know what to do with. The air in the room had turned suffocating with the tension of her emotions, and Delani couldn’t breathe. She stepped out from Dashana’s hold, clutching a fist over her heart as she felt something start to mend inside of her.

She glanced over at the bed to find that Jack had slept soundly through all of that, and she didn’t want to risk waking him with her crying. Wiping the wetness from her cheeks, Delani retreated backwards toward the door, needing to escape the tension filling the room.

“I need some air.”

Dashana gave her an exasperated look, “Delani, where are you going? This is your room.”

“An estate this large,” she countered, “I’m sure I’ll find another place to rest my head. Besides, Jack has claimed half of the bed already, we should let him rest.”

The moment her fingers brushed the metal of the door handle, she pulled it open and flung herself from the room. Delani gently closed the door behind her and pressed her back to the wood. She covered her mouth with her hand to muffle the distressed sounds currently coming out of her.

Blinking hard to banish the tears that remained in her line of sight, Delani threaded shaky fingers through her hair and combed the auburn strands from her face. She let out a slow deep breath, attempting to calm her insides. With Dashana’s words came a sense of self-awareness. Delani had turned into a beast, and she had thought it best to push Cullen away than to subject him to the monster she’d become.

But without him she truly was a monster. Without her clan, he was all that she had left, the last good thing that was hers. Losing him would mean losing herself, and Delani felt so lost already. Fear filled her at the thought that, maybe, she had pushed him too far. If she could not salvage what she had broken then she would remain forever destroyed. If she did not try, then she truly did not deserve him.

Delani pushed herself form the door and started down the long hall of the guest wing. The words were finally within reach, it was far past time that she say them.

Cullen strode through the manor, rubbing the day’s stress from the back of his neck. His time had been consumed with getting back up to speed with all that he had left in Skyhold. Captain Ophelia had done a tremendous job maintaining things in his absence, but even then there were matters that only he could attend to.

Hours he had spent staring at parchment, an inkwell his only companion. He had read report after report, his mind only partially in the task as his thoughts continuously drifted back to Delani. He had been filled with such worry, concern that she would manage to get herself into a situation she could not get herself out of peacefully, and fret that he was not giving her enough credit.

Conflicted. His felt a multitude of emotions and most opposed each other. He was angry at Delani for locking him out, he was furious at her for pushing him away, but he understood that she was in pain, and he sympathized with her loss. Through it all, his love for her was what hurt him the most. It did not matter how badly he wanted to be there for her, to support her through this hardship, Delani did not want him and it was destroying him inside.

With a shake of his head, he forced his thoughts from that rabbit hole for the hundredth time that day. He did not know what would become of him and Delani, and he hadn’t the energy to think about it tonight.

Opening the door to his guest chambers, Cullen was relieved to find a fire already burning in the hearth. The room was warm, comfortable, and he made it two steps toward the desk in the corner before realizing that he was not alone.

His hand was on the handle of his blade, ready to be drawn and lunged into his intruder’s gut, when he turned to find who his trespasser was. A breathless whisper fell from his lips.

“Delani.”

Chapter Text

“Delani.”

Stepping out from the wash closet was a familiar sight. Bronze skin, unobstructed by a single thread of clothing, caught the fire light and glowed seemingly from within. Covering her clay colored surface were leafless branches of crimson, an extension of the vallaslin decorating her face. Sea green eyes were rimmed with red, evidence of tears he had not been witness to and emotions that had not been shared with him.

Cullen couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, his mind was reeling with confusion and all he was able to do was stand there with his mouth agape. After a moment he somehow managed to climb out of the fog of his confusion and clear his mind with a series of hard blinks. He shut his mouth with a snap, and his nose flared with his inhale.

He turned sharply and continued toward the desk on the other side of the guest room. An ache started to grow in his jaw from how hard he was grinding his teeth. After all the attempts he had made to get close to her, all the times she had shoved him away, now Delani wanted something to do with him? If she thought that she could just appear naked in his bedchambers, and it would make everything better, she was tremendously mistaken.

“What are you doing here, Delani?” he muttered, not looking at her as he busied himself with leafing through the papers on his desk. The beat of Cullen’s heart started to pick up, a steadily growing war song drumming against his ribcage. Blood rushed through his veins, pumping anxiously in his ears, the temperature climbing with each pulse as his body reacted to the surprise of her presence in his private quarters.

Every part of his being was attuned to Delani, his senses reaching out to her with a desperation he could not help. In his mind he knew how upset he was with her, how badly her distance had hurt him, but his blood and body only knew how much he missed her. The need in his gut did not care about the insurmountable wall she had constructed between them. It took nearly all of his willpower to keep himself on the opposite side of the room.

The air shifted in the room as Delani’s bare feet padded two steps in his direction. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed the tension fill his shoulders in reaction to her approach. Apprehension was thick in the air, heavy and humid, silence giving it even more of a presence as they waited for her reply.

Delani’s voice was small when she spoke, uncharacteristically diminutive, and the sound of it coaxed Cullen into giving her a sideways glance. “I needed to tell you something.”

An eyebrow shot up and an incredulous huff spilled out of him. Turning around to face her fully, Cullen leaned back on the desk behind him and folded his arms over his chest. He gave her a once over despite himself, the heat in his blood rising with his gaze as it started at her feet, climbed her legs thick with muscle, the curve of her hips, her tiny waist, the swell of her breasts with his coin turned necklace nestled between them, and her lean neck until his attention was locked on her sea green eyes.

“You took your clothes off to tell me something?”

Auburn eyebrows knitted and Delani’s expression turned self-conscious. She bit down on her bottom lip, her hands rolling into fists only for her to shake them loose again. Delani broke his gaze and stared at the floor for a tension filled moment. When she looked back up at Cullen there were tears obvious in her eyes.

Swallowing hard, she released her bottom lip from between her teeth and tried to explain her presence in his room. “I need to apologize to you.” Her hand reached out and she took another step toward him, but she stopped again when Cullen’s eyes hardened at her words. Bringing her hand to her chest, she held her fist just under her collarbone and she pulled in a shuddering breath.

With a roll of her shoulders, she straightened her spine and found her voice again. “I hate myself for this anger, and for what I’ve allowed it to do to me.”

Surprised, Cullen permitted himself to see past his own pain and anger and actually see Delani. For the first time in what felt like forever she wasn’t hiding from him. Delani was not wearing a mask, the wall she’d built between them was being taken apart brick by brick, and Cullen’s breath accelerated as his heartbeat reacted to what might lie behind it and what she might say.

Delani held his gaze as tears tracked down her cheeks, and there was such heartbreaking vulnerability to the way she was looking at him. Her wall was gone and it was for him that she had taken it down. With a final step in his direction she stood in front of him, her proximity worsening the growing ache his body felt to feel her skin against his. She held him prisoner to those twin pools of green as she spoke with such conviction.

“I hate myself so damn much, but the thing I hate the most is how I’ve treated you. I have lost everything and everyone that I love, but I cannot —I will not— lose you too. Not to my own stupidity. Not to anything.” She dropped her hand from her chest and returned it to her side. Delani stood before him in offering, her face tilted up so that she could look him in the eyes and he could see the undeniable truth of her words. “You want all of me, Cullen, then I am yours. The pain, the hate, the anger, the love… All that’s left of me, it’s all yours. Take it.”

Quietly she exhaled, “Sahlin ma nadas glac cad seihl’nas.”

For a moment all he could do was stare down at her, hesitant to believe that this wasn’t a scene concocted by his dreaming mind. With tentative movements, Cullen reached out between them and brought his gloved hand to Delani’s cheek. The moment he felt her heat beneath the leather covering his fingers, his heart lurched in his chest. This was no dream. The vulnerability, the openness in her eyes, they were all real. Her apology was real. Delani was real, and she wanted him to take her.

He brushed his fingers over her cheek and threaded them through her hair until he was holding her by the nape of the neck. Holding her misty gaze, Cullen fisted the auburn silk of her hair and tilted her head further back so that he could stare more deeply into her eyes. She sucked in a sharp, surprised breath, unable to look away from him for even a moment.

A deep inhale brought with it the sweet scent of wildflowers into his lungs, and his body was struck with a blow of longing that hit him hard in the gut. With tender force, Cullen urged Delani onto her knees before him. The gesture was filled with wordless instruction, and Delani was perceptive to his desires the moment she noticed the slight bulge in the front of his breeches.

Jaw falling open, Cullen watched in absent fascination as Delani unbuckled the belt holding his sword. Her small fingers made quick work of the laces dividing him from her reach. With a tug, she pulled his trousers down until his backside was met with the air of the bedroom and his arousal emerged from beneath the fabric.

She looked back up at him then, her fingers still hooked under the waistband of his bottoms as her sea green eyes sought out his approval. Cullen nodded curtly and braced himself against the desk behind him when the warmth of her touch gripped him by the root of his cock. They maintained each other’s gazes as she pumped him.

Bringing his gloved hand to his mouth, Cullen’s attention remained on Delani as he bit down on the leather’s seam and pulled it from his hand. He removed the second glove before setting them both aside on the desk behind him. The feeling of Delani’s breath warming his pelvis sent shivers up his spine. His hairs stood on end as she brushed a kiss on his hip, then the other, before meeting his gaze again.

Impatient to feel the heat of her mouth around him, Cullen carefully grabbed her by the hair and pulled her mouth onto his manhood. She hummed approvingly around him and he threw his head back in response, a groan erupting past his parted lips. Delani’s mouth was fire, delicious pleasure that was almost painful in its decadence. His hand guided her up and down the length of him, the silk of her hair tangled between his fingers as he watched himself disappear past the rosy tint of her swollen lips.

As she worked him over, Cullen continued with the task he had started. Slowly he shrugged off his cloak and mantle, his focus wavering as he struggled to pay attention to what he was doing rather than the toe-curling pleasure of Delani’s tongue dragging along the underside of his member.

Breathing hard through his nose, he proceeded to remove his bracers, pauldrons, breastplate, and his remaining articles of armor until he was left in only his undershirt. When that too was ripped from his chest and set aside with his other clothing, Cullen knotted his fingers in Delani’s hair once more to stop her ministrations. He forced her head back and Delani stared up at him expectantly, wanton dark and smoldering in her eyes.

“Get up,” he growled, carefully pulling Delani back onto her feet by the red of her hair. She complied with a moan, allowing him to maneuver her however he pleased. Cullen’s hand dropped from her hair to the arch of her neck. He could feel the thump of her heartbeat against his thumb, the heat of her body filling his palm.

With one hand on her neck, he pulled her toward him before using the other to brush her hair away from her face. “What is our word?”

Delani’s voice was a whisper when she supplied, “Harillen,” breathless and needy as she wordlessly pleaded for him to fulfill the promise in his eyes.

“Good,” he muttered before guiding Delani backwards toward the bed and shoving her onto the mattress. She did not dare to break his gaze as he circled to the side of the bed, pulling the belt from around his waist as he watched her inch toward the headboard. “Put your hands over your head,” he instructed, placing a knee on the mattress so that he could reach her hands more easily.

When Delani gripped the wood of the headboard above her head, Cullen looped his belt around her wrists and secured them to the furniture. He tested her bonds, making sure that they weren’t too tight while also being tight enough to keep her in place. Satisfied that she would not slip her restraints, Cullen stared down at the Dalish woman now writhing under his gaze.

He scoped the planes of her body, the climbs and dips, and all of her curves. A more gorgeous sight he had never seen, and he doubted that one existed. She was a goddess born of the earth. Her clay colored skin glowed like copper under the firelight, her natural red tones brightened by the blood rushing her features. The rise and fall of Delani’s chest was rapid with anticipation, her breasts pert and longing for his touch, her nipples hard in testament of her arousal.

Cullen turned until he was seated on the edge of the bed. He could feel Delani’s gaze on his back, could feel the heat of it tracing the definition of his muscles, gliding over the scars that marked him, and his cock twitched in reply. He wanted to claim her, to take her back in both body and mind, but he would not rush this. Having gone so long without her affection already, Cullen had every intention of dragging this out until she was screaming his name, pleading to be allowed to come.

He casually unclasped the buckles holding his greaves in place before removing them from his shins and neatly setting them beside the bed. His hands then went to work on loosening his bootlaces, Cullen proceeded with the slow task of taking off his boots, then his pants, until he was as bare as the woman currently tied to his bed.

Standing again, Cullen took himself into his hand and stroked his cock from tip to base and back again as he regarded Delani. She shifted in the bed, her legs moving mindlessly and her hips rolled as she watched him. Her mouth was open, her eyes dilated, her skin pebbled with gooseflesh and excitement. She was a feast for his eyes, and soon she would be a feast for his palate as well.

His knee found purchase on the mattress again and Cullen reached out for Delani. The heat radiating from her body met his hand before the calloused skin of his palm and fingers touched her thigh. A volt of energy zapped through him at the contact, and she felt it as well if her reaction to his touch was any indicator.

Confident fingers followed the curve of her thigh, her skin was soft under his touch as he felt along the inside and up toward the juncture of her legs. He looked up from the path his hand was taking and held her gaze while he reclaimed what he had gone too long without. Delani spread herself for him the closer he got to her womanhood. Her hips rolled in want, needing his touch, as desperate to be possessed by him as he was to possess her.

Their eyes were still locked when his fingers finally found her apex. Her petals were slick with her excitement, dew drops professing how badly she wanted him. A moan escaped Delani when his fingers brushed over the moist lips of her sex, and she ground against his hand in search of the pleasure he was slow to give her.

Her breath hitched and eyes widened when Cullen slapped between her legs. “Be still,” was his growled warning. The pink of her tongue snaked out to gloss her lips, desire was burning hot in her eyes, but Delani yielded to his command. She evened her breathing and relaxed under his touch. When he was sure that she would do as he said, Cullen resumed his reclamation of her naked body.

The fingers of one hand parted her folds and dipped into her heat. He felt her from the cleft of her lips down to the tightness of her entrance before inching upward again for the bundle of nerves swollen with her anticipation. He rubbed her there, watching in fascination as her eyelids fell shut and she tightened her lips to stifle her moan.

His other hand reached out for her then, his thumb tugging at her bottom lip until was released from between her teeth. Delani opened her eyes to meet his gaze and he rumbled, “I want to hear you, Delani,” as his fingers started to rub her nub more vigorously.

Her replying moan had an achy pitch, and Cullen felt a similar longing burning his veins. Keeping to the task of rubbing her in steady circles, he lowered himself onto the mattress beside her and brought his mouth to her ear. “You have pushed me away for so long already, Delani. Now I will show you what it is like to be pushed, to be brought to the breaking point and be denied release.” Wrapping his strong fingers around the curve of her neck, he rasped, “You will give yourself over to me completely, and you will find release when I decide it is time.”

Delani’s moans were louder now, his words making her writhe under his hold. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, pleading, beseeching, needing him to have her whichever way he pleased. She had surrendered herself to him in mind and body, there were no barriers between them now, no protective wall dividing them. In this moment there was only them, and Cullen was going to brand this moment into her mind so that there would only ever be them for now and forever.

Again he slapped between her legs when her movements became too erratic. She was seeking out her own pleasure, taking what was his to give, and Cullen could not have that. “I said be still.”

“Emma abelas, vhenan’ara,” she whined, her eyes fluttering and chest heaving as she tried again to regain control of her body.

The sound of her endearment was an aphrodisiac that stoked the flames lapping at his resolve. Every fiber of his being was humming with need, demanding that he take her already, that he reclaim her and mark her as his. It took all of his willpower to stay his course. He would not rush this. Delani needed to remember him, to remember them, and he would make it so that she never forgot again.

A sharp gasp sounded from Delani when Cullen took her ear into his mouth. He nibbled lightly on its edge, only to lick the length of it and take its pointed tip between his teeth. The volume of her moans was on the rise as he continued to rub her sex and toy with her ear. Cullen knew the pleasure he was giving her, how sensitive her ears were to his touch. What she was feeling now was torture, climbing pleasure that would not end with satisfaction. Not yet at least.

With his mouth on her ear, nibbling, licking, sucking and tugging, his fingers in her folds, caressing, rubbing, and possessively claiming, Cullen’s other hand went to her breast. She yelped at the additional attention, her whole body jerking up off the bed as she fought to keep herself still under his touch. He tweaked and pinched her nipple between his fingers before moving to the other breast to do the same. She was a panting, breathless, whimpering mess beneath him and Cullen smirked at the mindlessness of her movements.

Wanting to see her face as he worked her over, Cullen released her ear from his mouth and sat up until he was kneeling beside her on the bed. Her breast was still in his hand, being squeezed and kneaded, while the other hand was slippery with the residue of her desire as he continued to rub her petals. He watched her in fascination as his fingers went from her clit to her entrance, one slipping into her core before pulling back out to rub her again.

Delani pulled on her restraints. She lifted her head off of the pillow to watch what he was doing, only to throw her head back down when he entered her again. Her chest heaved as she fought for each breath. Her body rolled as she sought to draw out each touch. Her moans, mewls, and desperate cries filled his ears with a song more holy than the Chant of Light.

When he plunged into her heat again it was with two fingers. He did not pull out like he had before, leaving her warmth to toy with her nub. Instead he found the spongy flesh on the inside of her inner wall. He rubbed her there with the pads of his fingers, pressing down as he dragged his skin against the slickness of her own. Delani’s reaction was loud, violent, her pelvis jerked up into his touch, her voice hoarse as she tried to be still as he’d commanded her.

His fingers eased in and out of her at a steady pace, his rhythm growing with her volume. He curled his fingers inside of her, beckoning her every cry and pulling her toward the edge of release. She was close, so terribly close. Delani’s chest was heaving with her breaths, her naturally dark complexion was darker with the blood rushing her features. Her fingers were tightly clutching at the leather of his belt, fighting against her bonds as she attempted to reclaim a semblance of control. With each flick of his fingers her body writhed on the bed.

The heat of her was scalding, ever-growing. Her walls were hugging him so snuggly and Cullen knew that she would not last much longer. His thumb pressed down hard on her clit as he continued to finger her, and Delani’s back bowed in response, nearly screaming at the pleasure he was inflicting upon her. Just as he felt the telling tightness of her core start to close around his fingers, Cullen pulled away from her completely.

“No!” she cried at being denied release. She sobbed into the inside of her elbow before she looked  up at Cullen as though he had just hit her. Delani’s dilated eyes were pleading when she whimpered, “Vhenan’ara, helani,” begging him to bring her to completion.

Cullen pinched her nipple hard between his fingers. She cried, frustrated, and Cullen allowed the corner of his mouth to curl into the faintest of smirks. “You will find release when I decide it is time,” he reminded her, “and it is not yet time.”

He grabbed Delani by the hips and flipped her onto her stomach. She landed on the mattress with an ooph, his belt tightening around her wrists as the new position constricted the leather that imprisoned her. When she lifted her ass into the air it was by instinct, presenting herself to Cullen for his use and attention.

His fingers tracked the wetness of her lips and Delani breathed out a needy exhale, lifting her bottom a bit higher as to tempt him into finishing what he had stopped so abruptly. He grabbed the fatty flesh of her backside, his fingers pressing into her skin with enough pressure to bruise. When she leaned into his touch he spanked her hard.

“What do you want, Delani?”

Wiggling her rear in front of him, tempting him with the reddening flesh, she moaned, “Na mi in’ma.”

Unsatisfied with her answer, he brought his hand down on her backside again, harder this time. She bit down on the pillow and hissed, “Fenedhis,” before sighing at the feeling of him gently rubbing the redness from her backside before spanking her again.

Wanting to hear her voice tight, strained under the weight of her arousal, Cullen slapped her ass again before demanding, “Tell me, Delani. What do you want?” He gripped her by the hip, impatient to hear the words spill from her lips. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I want you, Cullen,” she moaned, rolling her hips toward him, begging him with her body to lay claim to her. “I want you to take me, all of me.”

He spanked her again. His blood was pumping almost deafeningly in his ears, his heart beating frantically with want, need, with a desperation to be surrounded by the heat of her. “Why,” he insisted, refusing to take her until she said what he wanted to hear.

She was just as impatient to be filled by him. There was a hitch in her voice, a pleading tone when she answered. “Because I am yours, vhenan’ara. All of me is yours.”

Cullen brought his cock to her sopping entrance and lubricated it with the slickness of her excitement. As he pressed against her heat, he leaned over her back and growled, “You are mine,” as he pushed himself into her with one hard thrust.

A cry of pleasure filled the room at the swiftness of his invasion. Delani’s fingers wrapped around his belt as she wriggled underneath him. She was urging him to move, to thrust and take, but she was pinned under his weight and unable to create enough friction to cause any pleasure. Cullen waited until the snugness of her core had adjusted to accommodate his size before proceeding.

It was only when he was certain that all she would feel was pleasure when he moved inside of her that Cullen dragged himself from her heat. Delani moaned at the slightest movement. The sounds coming from her were needy and wanton as he slowly pulled out before forcefully plunging back into her depths.

His hands trailed up her back as he admired the design of the vallaslin on her back, the crimson branches that sprouted from her spine and crawled across her ribcage, over her shoulder blades, up her neck, and around her arms. Cullen leaned back as he thrust into her, his hands trekking back down her body until they were on her hips, pulling her into his every assault. His eyes fell shut at the pleasure of her enveloping him. Her heat was consuming, disorienting, it was overpowering and Cullen found himself enslaved to her. She cried into the pillow, her voice breaking with each thrust, her words muffled as she begged him to move faster.

With a hard slap to her bottom, Cullen leaned forward. He did not accelerate his movements, he did not succumb to her desires. If he moved too quickly they would both be in ruins sooner than he wanted. Delani would simply have to learn to be patient. She was going to have to trust that he knew what she wanted, what she needed, and that he would provide it for her; when he was ready.

Wrapping his arm around her, his fingers slid up her abdominals, between her breasts, until his chest was pressed against her back and he had his hand around her neck. “You are mine,” he growled with a forceful thrust of his hips. Delani jostled in his arms with each push, whimpering at his pounding and the unbearably slow rhythm with which he was moving.

“Yours,” she agreed, the word almost indiscernible amongst her moans.

His hand was still around her neck when he did finally pick up his pace. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh came second to their moans, groans, grunts, and growls. Cullen’s every forward pump was hard, punishing, throttling her into the mattress with all of the pent up aggression he had stored away throughout the course of their travels. With every movement he demonstrated how much she had hurt him.

Moving his grip from around the front of her neck, he peeled himself from her back and repositioned his hold on her shoulder. Cullen pushed Delani down into the mattress, pinning her there as his hips met her ass with bruising force. The bed creaked loudly, the headboard clamoring against the wall as the force of his movements shook the room, as the passion of their reunion shook the world.

The scent of sweat and sex was thick in the room, a lust-filled fog that burned in his belly with each inhale. Cullen was breathing through grit teeth, his inhales were loud hisses as he tried to focus on anything aside from the glorious fit of Delani’s sex. She was decadent, the sensation of being inside of her was just short of sinful, the feeling of being one with her was missed. As Cullen’s heart pounded against his chest nearly as hard as he was throttling against Delani, it beat with a force stronger than anything he had ever felt.

Love.

Cullen loved Delani, even as he marked her neck with his teeth, as his nails scraped over her back, as his fingers pressed hard into her skin, and his body collided powerfully into hers.  He fucked her now not out of anger, not out of spite, not to hurt her or to take possession of her. Cullen was pounding into her, joining their bodies, their hearts, their very souls, because he had almost lost the woman that he loved more than life itself. What they shared was more important to Cullen than anything had ever been before, and he’d been forced to watch helplessly as it nearly slipped entirely from his grasp.

Never again. Delani was his and he would not lose her.

The force of his thrusts made her bounce against the mattress, propelling her back up his cock, only for him to shove her into the mattress again. When he felt her core start to tighten around him, her heat feeling more akin to an inferno of blazing hellfire, Cullen knew that she was close. Her voice was strained, her moans hoarse from her unrelenting use and volume. Delani’s voice and malleable body was undoing him, plucking at his seams until he was so near to unravelling that he could feel the coming eruption tightening in his balls.

Without pulling out from her sheath, Cullen moved Delani until she was on her back again. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he leaned back. He lifted her hips up off of the bed and pulled her to meet his pelvis with each push of his hips. Delani’s bronze canvas was speckled with beads of sweat, and Cullen could feel his own sweat dripping from his hair and down his brow, rivulets coursing down the surface of his chest and the scape of his back.

With slow, reverent movements, Cullen brushed his hand over the definition of her stomach, across her breast and to her neck. He held held her neck, pressing it slightly so that she would meet his gaze. Sea green eyes looked into his very soul. A thousand words passed between them when they were both so far beyond coherent language.

All there was were the sights, the smells, the feeling of her heat surrounding him. The scent of their union was all he could smell, the anticipation of satisfaction all that he could taste. He felt himself toeing the edge, and stared deeply into Delani’s eyes to find that she would meet the peak and make the leap right beside him.

With a shuddering moan, Delani cried, “I’m so close, Cullen.” Her voice was jostled as she continued to brunt his thrusts, asking, begging, pleading with him. “Please, Cullen. Please.”

He leaned down, hugging his arms around her middle and burying his face in her neck. Still pushing in and out of her core, Cullen gently bit down on her neck before dragging his tongue over the sweat salted surface up to her ear. After he licked the shell of her ear, he rasped, “Garas isa ma, ma atishan.”

Delani did as commanded of her. Just before the sporadic throbbing of her walls around his cock, Cullen claimed her mouth with his own and stifled the scream of her release. Her entire body convulsed with her orgasm, the ferocity of her climax pulling Cullen into the bottomless pool of euphoria alongside her.

The feeling sprouted from the base of his spine, sending currents of electricity through his body in waves. Each wave was a thrust into her heat, pushing rope after rope of his seed into her core until there was nothing left inside of him but exhaustion and satisfaction.

With his arms still wrapped around Delani’s waist, Cullen hugged her to his chest. He pressed a series of kisses to her neck, feeling so possessed by her, connected to her in a way he had gone so long without. He never wanted to leave this bed, to leave from the comfort of her legs wrapped around him, never again did Cullen want to be without her.

Brushing a lingering kiss against the curve of her neck, Cullen whispered into her ear, “I love you, Delani.”

When she started to shake beneath him Cullen thought for a second that she was suddenly cold, but the room’s temperature was comfortable at worst and the addition of their intertwined bodies was almost sweltering in its heat. He pulled away to meet her gaze and witnessed the tears falling from her eyes. Her face was twisted with grief and heartbreak, and she turned her head to bury her face in the crook of her arm still tied to the head board.

Shocked to find Delani in such a state, Cullen scrambled to undo her bonds. He loosened the leather belt until her wrists were free. Taking her hands into his, he rubbed the red from her wrists, feeling wretched that he might be the cause behind the obvious pain in her eyes.

Delani tried to breathe evenly as he soothed her aggrieved skin, but each inhale was more desperate than the last until she was hyperventilating. Sobs wracked through her and Cullen pulled Delani into his lap. He tucked her head under his chin and cradled her against his chest, shielding her with his arms as he rocked her back and forth.

Her body heaved as she cried. Delani was curled in his arms, tiny and fragile, a delicate creature that was his to protect. Cullen felt he knew the cause of her tears, and guessed that they were not over the force of their lovemaking. She had enjoyed their shared passion, anything less and she would have said their word. No, these tears were not about sex, they were about loss.

After having gone so long bottling her emotions, stuffing them into a box to be buried deep inside of her, it had taken the power of their union to unearth all that she had stored away. The lock had been broken, and now there was nowhere for her feelings to go but out. Cullen would hold her through this, he would help her come to terms with all that she was feeling like she should have let him do from the start.

It felt like an hour had passed before her body stopped shaking from the intensity of her tears. Delani wrapped her arms around his neck and buried herself deeper into his embrace. Her breath was hot against his chest, her tears wet on his skin, and all Cullen could do was hold her.

When she spoke her voice was so small that he almost did not hear her, the murmured words muffled against the skin of his neck. “They’re all dead, Cullen. I’ve lost all of them.”

He tightened his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “I know,” he replied, wanting to fix the hurt inside of her even while he knew that the only remedy was time. “You still have Dashana.”

It was a small comfort, he knew, a single clan-mate from a caravan that was well over a hundred strong. But Delani needed to know that she was not alone in this loss. There was another who understood her pain as keenly as she did. Delani could find a solace in Dashana’s arms that Cullen was unable to provide, no matter how badly he wanted to.

“Perhaps,” she whispered. Her fingers threaded through the curls at the nape of his neck. Delani pulled away from him a bit so that she could look him in the eye. When he held her gaze his breath caught in his throat and his heart shattered over the pain he found.

With her walls gone there was nothing left for her to hide behind. Delani was naked in both mind and body, vulnerable, an open book currently written in tragedy. The strong Dalish hunter he knew her to be was replaced by a woman broken by life and loss. Though the devastation he saw now was not the kind he’d witnessed in Skyhold, on the balcony of their bedchambers where she had balanced atop the railing, ready to embrace whichever fate became of her.

Cullen pushed the memory from his mind. She had not done anything since then to threaten her own life. She was reckless and angry, and lashed out at all of those around her, but she’d come to Wycome with purpose. Purpose of another kind had brought her to his guest quarters, and though the pain in her eyes was soul shaking, Cullen could also see the stitches of repair pulling her back together.

She would recover from this loss, and he would help her every step of the way.

Fresh tears pooled in her eyes and when she blinked they fell from her lashes onto her cheeks. Cullen cupped her face in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe away her tears. Moving her hands from around his neck, her touch traveled the length of his arms until her fingers were curled over his wrists.

Thumbs caressing the back of his hand, she looked into his eyes as she wondered, “But do I have you?” Delani gulped down a deep breath and it shuddered upon her exhale. There was a desperation in her eyes as she looked at him, a panic that he understood intimately.

Her grip on his wrists tightened with her distress. When Delani spoke her voice was sharp with self-loathing. “Losing everything has turned me into a monster, and I’ve taken it out on you. I’ve pushed you away. I’ve hurt you. I have been so thoughtless and wretched to you, and I understand if you hate me for it.” Her hold on him turned viselike in her torment. “But I cannot lose you, Cullen. You are all that I have left. I can feel myself slipping, fading into this hateful beast, and all that keeps me from losing myself completely is you.

“You are all that is good in me, your patience, your understanding, your perseverance. When I am surrounded by darkness you are my light, and if I lose you I fear what will become of me.” Her tears were falling again, flowing like river rapids that would not be slowed by his thumbs. Sea green eyes were surrounded by red, bloodshot by pain, fear, and desperation.

“I hate what I have become,” she sobbed. “The only good left in me is you. I can’t lose you, Cullen. I won’t survive it.”

Hushing her sobs with soft murmurs, Cullen lowered his face to hers and pressed their brows together. Her face was still between his hands, his thumbs wiping the tears that continued to fall from her eyes. For some time all that passed between them were Delani’s cries and the noises he was making in attempt to comfort her.

He lifted his forehead from hers and placed a tender kiss on the bridge of her nose, another on each eyelid, before tilting her head back and claiming her lips. The kiss was a reassurance, a promise, an unshakable vow. When their lips parted it was with the pledge, “You will not lose me, Delani. I do not hate you, I could never hate you.”

“But—“ she tried to argue and he cut her off before the words could be given voice.

“I love you, Delani.” Again he wiped away the fresh wave of tears. Cullen looked down at her and felt his chest constrict with all the love that he felt for this incredible woman.

She was flawed and broken, shattered to pieces by the pains that life had inflicted upon her. But Cullen was equally flawed, and even more broken. Never again would their pieces be repaired into the people they once were, to the people they were meant to be. But together they were whole, an entity united by past and current pains, their pieces fit in perfect alignment. Alone they were broken, but together they were complete, and Delani needed to be reminded of that fact.

“You are mine,” he said again, claiming her with his words like he had with their bodies. “And I am yours. Together we are one, and the stars in the sky will cease to shine before that fact is untrue.”

The sadness in her eyes was now accompanied by hope. Chin trembling with her rioting emotions, Delani asked, “Aren’t you angry with me?”

“I was,” Cullen admitted with a curt nod. He released her face from between his hands and pulled her back into his arms once more. Delani was seated on his lap, her legs on either side of him, her arms around his neck as he hugged her to him. His fingers were playing in the downy soft hair at the nape of her neck.

Staring into her eyes, he confessed, “You pushed me away and built up a wall between us. Being without you was unbearable, and hurt more than anything. I understood why you were behaving the way you were, but I could not understand why you felt you couldn’t let me in. After all we’ve been through I thought you trusted me more than that, I thought you looked at me as more than just a human.”

“Cullen,” the tears that filled her eyes now were of self-hatred, “I do trust you. The things I said, the way I treated you… I am so sorry.”

He hugged her more tightly now, pressing her face to his chest so that she could find reassurance in his warmth. “I know, ma atishan.” Cullen kissed the top of her head before murmuring, “I do not need to be Dalish to understand your loss. At the Circle, where I served in Ferelden, the Templars were my friends. We had trained together since the beginning of adolescence. We grew up together, learned together, we were family.” His arms tightened around her when the memory of what happened all those years ago resurfaced in his mind.

“I was made to watch as they were tortured and slaughtered one by one. I was a prisoner to demons and blood mages and they were not gentle with me, ma lath.” With another kiss to her brow, he pulled her back from his chest a bit and cupped her cheek in his palm as he swore, “I know your pain, Delani, and you need not bear it alone. Because you have me. You will always have me.”

Breathlessly she replied, “I love you so much, Cullen,” before crashing her lips against his.

They were a tangle of limbs as their kiss deepened, turning possessive and passionate, yet slow and gentle. Cullen eased her onto her back on the mattress, his body still pressed against hers, shielding her from the world and all its troubles. There was only them and their love. As Delani combed her fingers through his curls, down his back, and pulled desperately at his shoulder blades, Cullen felt his body come alive again under her touch.

This time when they made love it was without the aggression or the pent up emotion. This time their union was a declaration that nothing, not fate, death, nor the will of the gods could ever tear them apart. They would make it through this as they did in all things, together.

Chapter Text

Beams of yellow light poured into the room through the windows as the sun climbed the heavens. Delani watched the specs of dust float in the air, careless as they were caught in the light. The bed shifted and heat pressed against her back, a strong arm winding around her waist and pulling her into her bed-mate’s protective embrace. Cullen kissed the round of Delani’s shoulder and Delani hummed in acknowledgment of his affection.

“Morning, ma atishan,” he rumbled, his voice still grated with the disuse of sleep.

Reaching around behind her, Delani threaded her fingers through the soft curls at the nape of his neck and lightly scraped her nails over his scalp. A tiny smile plucked at the corner of her mouth when he made an approving noise.

“Morning, vhenan’ara,” was her murmured reply.

Cullen placed a half dozen more kisses on her shoulder, up the curve of her neck, and moved her hair away from her face to brush a few more on her cheek, temple, and the tip of her ear. When he was done he rested his chin on her shoulder and asked, “Copper for your thoughts?”

She untangled her fingers from his hair and turned on the bed to lie flat on her back. Tucking a hand behind her head, Delani met Cullen’s concerned gaze and offered him a small, reassuring smile. Her heart was heavy. It was always heavy. But somehow it wasn’t the anchor, the deadweight, that it had been merely days prior. She could acknowledge the pain without being destroyed by it, and that somehow felt worse.

Delani looked away from Cullen, focusing her gaze on the ceiling instead. She stared up at the wooden pattern as she spoke, distracting herself from the pain flaring through her insides with each beat of her heart.

“My mother was the clan’s first Keeper in generations to take a mate and start a family,” she started, not knowing how else to explain her thoughts to him in a way he would understand. “Every Dalish clan follows their own traditions and our Keepers have always been married solely to the clan. Mother was actually born to another clan, but hers already had half a dozen mages and to have any more was to risk being hunted by Templars.”

Her gaze flicked over to Cullen then and she asked, “Have I explained to you what the Arlathvhen is?”

Cullen nodded before supplying, “The gathering of the clans that occurs every ten years.”

“Yes,” she confirmed, a sense of pride glowing inside of her that was swiftly replaced with a pang of guilt. “During the Arlathvhen my mother was sent to clan Lavellan to be the Keeper’s first, as a mage had not been born to them for two generations. My parents met during the Arlathvhen, before mother had been introduced to the clan as First.”

A poignant laugh, filled more by pain than amusement, coughed out of Delani as she recalled, “My father used to adore going into excruciating detail about how he fell for my mother the moment that he laid eyes on her. She was by a fire, recanting the Fall of the Dales through dance, and as he watched her he knew that his heart belonged to her. When my father discovered that she was meant to be the clan’s First it devastated him. She was destined to be Keeper, holder of knowledge and tradition, and the clan’s tradition stated that a Keeper could never marry.”

Cullen’s fingers traced the definition of her abdominals, between the valley of her breasts, and past her collarbone before he caressed her cheek, moving her hair aside with the gesture so that he could see the entirety of her face. “What happened then?” he asked, sounding invested in her story.

When Delani cast a quick look his way it was to find the corner of his mouth curled into a small smile and she forced her lips to mirror the expression before she continued. “My father decided that if he could not have my mother as a mate, then he could at least know her as a friend.” She pulled her attention from Cullen and stared up at the ceiling again. The palpitations in her chest were heavy, burdened now by the memory she had once held so dear.

“It did not take long, however, for my mother to fall in love with my father.” The smile that crept across to her lips then was not as difficult to muster as her previous one had been. Delani could remember how her father would always look to her mother when he told this part of the story. He had considered winning her heart a victory, her love was a treasure and the one he valued above all else.

Forcing the curl from the corners of her mouth, Delani pushed away her smile, weak though it was, as unwelcome and carried on with her story. “She did not want to be friends, she wanted more. They kept their relationship a secret for several years, until one day the clan was attacked by bandits and the Keeper was slain in the chaos. After the bandits were dealt with and the funeral rites were observed, my mother was now Keeper of clan Lavellan and her first act as such was to marry my father.”

Eyebrows arching toward his hairline, Cullen’s surprise was palpable even before she glanced over at him to find his expression painted with intrigue. Too invested in the story to allow it to go unfinished, Cullen prodded her to continue. “How did the clan react to that?”

Huffing through her nose, Delani confirmed what he already knew. “Not well,” she supplied. “Many were outraged, some even threatened to leave the clan. My mother explained to them that they were free to do as they pleased, but so was she. She was Keeper, and her heart belonged to the clan, but she was also a woman, and that meant that there were no limits to how much her heart could love. Her duty as Keeper was to observe the traditions of the Dalish, and to recognize which traditions were worth breaking, and love outweighs tradition every time.”

Delani turned onto her side so that she was facing Cullen. She placed a hand on his chest and felt the drum of his heart beneath her palm. Shutting her eyes to feel the repetitive thump-thump, thump-thump, she felt her chest constrict and her throat tighten. Tears stung her eyes and she felt a pinch in her sinuses when she sucked in a panicked breath through her nose.

Chin trembling from the sudden upheaval of emotion, Delani looked up from her hand to meet Cullen’s confused gaze. He was blurred by a film of unshed tears and Delani cleared her throat to loosen the quiver out of it. “My parents were romantics. They both thought that love conquers all, that there is no force greater in the universe, that love is stronger than tradition and has no limitations.”

She moved her hand up his chest and over his neck until she had his cheek cupped in her hand. Cullen placed a hand on the small of Delani’s back and tugged her toward him, enveloping her in his warmth and giving her the strength to say what she needed to say. He was quiet, patient, allowing her a moment to collect and contain herself without pressuring her to get out with it.

Staring into the deep of his amber eyes, Delani’s chest felt as though it were collapsing inside of itself, caving in under the weight of her self-loathing and guilt. She ran her thumb across his cheekbone and sniffed away the pain accumulating in her sinuses. When she spoke her voice trembled in an act of betrayal and defiance. “If either of them were alive to witness the horror that I have become, they would be so disappointed in me. If they knew how wretched I’ve been to you…”

“Delani, hush,” Cullen crushed her against his chest and held her as the act of his affection stole from her what little control she’d had over her emotions. He tucked her head under his chin and rubbed her naked back as he murmured quietly into her hair, holding her while she sniffled and hiccupped, trying with all of her might to stop her tears from falling.

Covering her mouth with a hand, Delani muffled a sob before croaking, “I am so sorry, Cullen. You are all that I have left, I should have never—“

“Shhh,” he squeezed her to him, quieting her words before they could find voice. “I have already forgiven you, ma atishan.”

He said the words but Delani’s guilt remained steadfast. How could he forgive her so easily, after the way she had treated him, after all that she had said to him? She’d been a monster, and he should have hated her. Instead he insisted that he’d forgiven her, and Delani was convinced that she had not yet earned it from him.

“But how,” she whispered, the only decibel she could speak in without her voice cracking. “How could you not hate me?”

Very easily he answered, “Because I love you.” He pulled back a bit so that he could look her in the eye. Wiping away her tears, Cullen admitted, “Your parents were right, Delani. Love does conquer all. And we will get through this like we should have from the start: together.”

Delani held his hand to her cheek and squeezed. She nodded in reply to the question in his eyes, affirming that they were of like mind on this topic. Brushing her thumb over his knuckles, she murmured, “Together.”

The smile that Cullen offered her was encouraging and Delani allowed a similar one to twist her lips. She gave his hand one last squeeze before inching her face toward his and stealing a kiss from his lips. Cullen’s fingers tangled in her hair, holding her prisoner to the kiss, reclaiming what had always been his with a possessiveness that made her stomach flutter and a warmth spread through her chest.

When his grip on her hair slacked a bit, Delani reluctantly pulled her mouth from his only to scatter a dozen more butterfly kisses over the scar on his lip and across his features. To think that she had almost lost him to her own anger… Cullen may have forgiven her, but she didn’t know if she could ever really forgive herself. Never again would she take this man for granted. Never again would she risk losing him.

Delani pressed her brow to his and whispered, “Ma ar’lath, vhenan’ara.”

“And I love you, ma atishan. Elvarelan ir’em dirth.”

She forced herself from his embrace and turned to hang her legs off of the side of the bed. Her joints popped as she stretched out her muscles, and Delani made a shrill squeaking noise with the effort. When she was stretched to satisfaction she pushed off of the bed and padded over to the bowl of water at the corner of the room.

As Delani splashed the cool water over her face and rinsed her palate, Cullen started to observe how the day might progress. “The Marcher nobility is trickling into Wycome. Josephine has requested that we postpone any talks until her arrival.”

She spat the water from her mouth before turning to look at Cullen. “She’s coming to Wycome?”

“No,” he shook his head in unison with his answer. “But she insists that, if we agree to wait for her, she could be here in a week’s time.”

Delani did not need to think on her answer. “No. We will proceed without her. The nobles are here, I see no sense in dragging this out any longer than necessary.” Focusing her gaze out the room’s open window, she added, “Besides, Lady Volant is here on Josephine’s orders. Let us see if Lady Montilyet’s best agent can do the job we pay her to do.”

She could feel Cullen’s disapproving gaze burning into the side of her face and rolled her shoulders before turning to face his scrutiny head on. There was a chastising seriousness in his voice when he reminded her, “None of what happened here is Josephine’s fault, Delani. Nor is it Lady Volant’s.”

“I know,” she sighed the admission and dragged her hair from her face. Grinding her teeth to fight back the urge to place blame, Delani took in a deep breath through her nose and released it past clenched teeth. When she could trust herself not to fall victim to her own anger again she repeated, “I know. We will face those responsible today, and they will answer to me for the massacre of my clan.”

A worried expression fell over Cullen’s features. His voice was even when he prompted, “Do you have a plan to that effect?”

Silence joined them in the room, weighty with doubt and anticipation. The truth of it was that Delani didn’t yet know what she was going to do. All she knew was that if she wanted Cullen’s support, and if she was going to gain it, she would have to admit to her lack of strategy.

“Well,” she started, busying herself with the task of  getting dressed so that she wouldn't have to answer his question immediately. Delani stepped into her small clothes and stalled her reply for as long as she could. With her tights in place, she focused her gaze on knotting the front of her tunic and let out a deep sigh when there was nothing more she could do to postpone verbalizing the absence of a plan.

Combing her fingers through her hair in a vain attempt to smooth it out, Delani scratched the back of her head and grimaced before looking back to meet Cullen’s patient gaze. “Honestly, Cullen,” she started with a nervous exhale. “I don’t have much of a plan beyond speaking with them. I know what I want to happen today, I know that I want justice for my people that won’t result in further bloodshed or the persecution of elven kind across Thedas. I know that I want the cooperation of Marcher nobility, and I won’t settle for anything less.”

The cool metal of Cullen’s coin turned necklace was pinched between her fingers, and she fiddled with the trinket for a moment. When she tucked the coin under the collar of her tunic once more, Delani finally looked up to lock her eyes with Cullen’s. Sea green met amber gold and she marveled at the love she found there. To think that she had almost lost him.

Blinking herself back into the conversation, Delani swallowed down her residual guilt and confessed, “I know that I can’t do what needs to be done next if I do not have your support.”

Her heart clenched and a pang of fear resounded through her, starting from the center of her chest and reverberating all the way to the tips of her fingers. Even after all of the comfort he had shown her, the love he had given her, she was afraid that he might not trust her anymore. She could not blame him if he didn’t, but there were few things worse than losing his confidence in her. At present, none came to mind.

Cullen climbed out of the bed and crossed the room to where she stood. With his hands on her shoulders, he dipped his head so that she would be forced to maintain his gaze. “You have my support, Delani. I have always trusted your instincts, and that has not changed.” A hand moved from her shoulder to her face. Cullen tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her head back a bit. “When we meet with the nobles today I will stand behind you, no matter what you decide.”

Warmth seeped through her and all Delani could do for a moment was stare up at Cullen in speechless adoration. A deep breath brought with it his scent of elderflower and oakmoss, and it filled her with the confidence he proclaimed to have in her. Tracing the lines of his handsome face, her voice was a soft whisper when she admitted, “I’d rather have you at my side.”

“I am with you, however you’ll have me.” The corner of his mouth quirked with her words. and Cullen lowered his lips to meet hers. His warmth quickly swept over her, the heat of it pulling her closer until Delani found herself wrapped in his arms and pinned to his chest. She wound her arms around his neck and stood on the tips of her toes so that she could deepen the kiss. Tongue skating over the fullness of his bottom lip, Delani moaned in gratitude when he welcomed her into his mouth. The dance of their tongues was slow and sensual, the steps feeling both new and familiar as they became consumed by one another.

When Cullen released her from his lips Delani fell back onto the flat of her feet and blinked hard to reorient herself. Taking a second to catch her breath, she tucked her hair behind her ear and cleared her throat before she could trust that her voice had returned to her. “I should go prepare,” the words left her lips without conviction. She would eagerly take Cullen’s company over what awaited her just outside his room.

Before she could forget, she retrieved the belt she’d set aside on the bedside table and secured it around her waist. Delani straightened out her tunic and started for the door. Fingers grasping the handle, she looked back at Cullen and muttered, “Wish me luck.”

The look he gave hers full of a conviction she wished that she shared. “You won’t need it.”

“I love you,” was her reply. Delani left Cullen’s room and headed for the chambers she’d left to Dashana and Jack.

As she strode through the estate’s maze of halls, Delani unsheathed the knife on her belt. The blade gleamed in the hall’s midmorning light. “Not Luck but Love” it read, a promise that though she might run short of the former she would forever have the latter.

Rolling back her shoulders, Delani straightened out her spine and steeled her resolve. Cullen had promised his support and confessed his confidence in her. Whatever came next she was ready to face it head on.

“Perhaps we should wait,” Lady Guinevere Volant repeated for the tenth time. The dark skinned woman was nervously eyeing Duke Basilius’s office, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she worried about what would happen with the nobles within.

Cullen appreciated the amount of pressure that the woman was currently shouldering. If these talks did not go over smoothly the Inquisition risked war with the Free Marches on top of the war they were already waging against Corypheus. To Lady Volant it must have felt as though, if she failed to keep the peace today, it was she who the blame would fall on. She wanted to wait for Josephine to smooth things over, and Cullen understood why.

Even so, he rebuked, “Inquisitor Lavellan is ready to do this now.” The look she gave him was pleading and the one he offered her in return was apologetic. “The sooner we do this the sooner it will be finished.”

“Sure,” Lady Volant reluctantly agreed. “But how will this end? You’ve seen the state that Lady Lavellan is in. Can we trust her to keep the Inquisition’s best interests in mind?”

Cullen’s answer came easily to him. “Yes.” A doubtful expression came over the woman’s features that spurred him to explain his reasoning. “The Inquisitor wants what is best for her people, and the Inquisition falls under that category. She will get justice for her clan while also helping the elves here in Wycome.”

The doubt in Lady Guinevere Volant’s light brown eyes doubled, “That is a tall order, Commander.” Her gaze went again to the door to the Duke’s office. “I’ve known men like these my entire life. If we do not tread with caution we risk stepping on toes, and the Free Marches have gone to battle for less.”

Cullen spared the woman a small, reassuring smile and insisted, “You haven’t anything to fear, my lady. Inquisitor Lavellan will see us through as she always does.”

“Maker turn his gaze on us all if you’re wrong.”

I’m not, Cullen wanted to reply but allowed the conversation to die at that. He did not need to convince Lady Volant of anything. Delani would see to that herself.

Silence joined them for a few minutes before it was broken by the clinking of moving chainmail. Cullen and Lady Volant’s attention were both pulled up by the sound and a sharp inhale sounded from the woman at his side. Delani had changed since leaving his chambers.

Dressed in garbs of earthy greens, browns, and shades of gold, Delani was wearing a ceremonial tunic that he had never seen before. Silken threads danced over the fabric, leaves of gold on coppery braces accentuated her shape, while the tunic’s layered design gave off an air of authority. Her hair was braided away from her face, and a delicate golden crown in the shape of halla horns was adorned across her brow. Delani appeared the embodiment of her every role and title. She was every inch the Inquisitor, Dalish hunter, and Herald of Andraste.

Behind her Dashana followed in similar dress, the chainmail belonging to her and making her look like Delani’s protector. Accompanying them was the human boy named Jack and Solas as well. Cullen and Solas exchanged measured looks but Delani spoke before a briefing could be had.

“The massacre of Clan Lavellan is not going to be Keeper Milathara’s legacy here in Wycome.” Delani looked over each of their faces, meeting the gazes of her companions so that they would all understand the importance of the events soon to follow. “Her presence here brought with it change, and I will not allow the change she was making to die with her. None will leave that office until I’ve finished what my mother started; one way or the other.”

All but Lady Guinevere Volant nodded in agreement. Placing his hand on the pommel of his sword, Cullen assured Delani, “We stand with you.”

“Vir assan, lethallan,” murmured Dashana, her words weighty in their meaning.

With one final nod, Delani started for the door and Cullen opened it for her and the others to enter. They stepped into Duke Basilius’s office and the promise of change that presided within.

Cullen was surprised to find that the Duke’s office had been rearranged to comfortably accommodate the group of Marcher nobles that were currently pushing themselves out of their seats in order to greet the Inquisition. There was a mix of men, their height, weight, and complexion ranging broadly between them, and a single woman who appeared the most respectful of them all. As Delani approached the head of the large table that had been moved into Duke Basilius’s office, Lady Volant began the introductions.

There was a total of seven foreign Marcher nobles, two representatives from each of the nearing city-states of Ansburg, Hercinia, Markham, and the young blonde woman was an ambassador sent from Ostwick. With the addition of Duke Basillus, Mother Annette, and Harhren Kali, the large office felt rather cramped as he and the others found a place at the table.

Settling into the seat directly to the right of Delani, Cullen watched her as she addressed the whole of the table with the full authority of her status and title. “I would like to thank you all for coming,” she started, voice filled with confidence and conviction. “The circumstances of this meeting may be over a misunderstanding, but I hope that we will leave this room being of like mind.”

“You did not give us much choice in the matter, Inquisitor,” said a stout man with a bushy grey mustache, who Lady Volant had introduced as Lord Mossmour of Markham. Searching the faces of his fellow Marchers for similar sentiments of outrage, he observed, “You did say that to miss this meeting was to declare war on the Inquisition.”

The smile that Delani spared the man was sharp, there was an underlying warning to its edge that Cullen doubted the man would notice. “Then I take your presence here as a mutual desire for peace, Lord Mossmour.” His face crumpled with distaste at having the intent of his words and actions twisted around, but he made no argument against Delani. Perhaps her smile had more of an affect than Cullen expected.

Returning her attention to the whole of the group, Delani breathed in deeply before moving on to the purpose of their assembly. “I requested that Duke Basilius call this meeting so that we could all discuss the massacre of my people at length, and so that we might reach a resolution to the atrocity committed here.”

The next noble who spoke out was of average build, his hairline was receding and his skin was blotched in confession of his age. Lord Rosenrow of Ansburg appeared insulted by Delani’s insinuation that any one of them was at fault for what happened to her clan. The deep baritone of his voice had a haughty timbre to it when he said, “What happened to your clan was a misunderstanding. As far as any of us knew Wycome’s alienage had rebelled against its rightful ruler, and we sent men to contain the situation before it could become a widespread issue.”

The silence that fell over the room at the end of his last word was filled with shock and nervousness. Lord Rosenrow had likely only said what they were all thinking, but he had said it with such gall, with such unbridled conviction that the others exchanged glances in anticipation of Delani’s reply. Lady Volant fidgeted in her seat, her gaze seeking out Cullen and she wordlessly begged him to intervene should Delani turn to violence.

An intervention would not be necessary, as Delani merely stared down Lord Rosenrow of Ansburg with narrowed eyes until he mumbled an apology for speaking out of turn. She lightly tapped her knuckles on the table’s surface before straightening her spine and holding her wrist behind her back.

“People died here,” she reminded them. Delani’s cold gaze inspected the faces of the nobles that filled the room, the neutrality of her features and tone making the men uncomfortable as they waited for her to finish. Her jaw ticked once as she reiterated why she’d summoned them to Wycome. “My clan, city elves, the humans who dared to defend them. Innocent lives were lost because your first instinct against a supposed “elf rebellion” is to slaughter everyone in sight.”

Tension followed her words and the weight of it caused the nobles to shift in their seats. They exchanged wary glances, fiddling with their facial hair or the ornaments on their clothing as they each struggled to maintain Delani’s gaze. Cullen inspected each of them and he knew that they were going to try to talk their way out of taking responsibility for their actions. But Delani was right, humans had died at the end of their soldiers’ blades. The slaughter of an alienage could go unpunished, but humans were victims of this crime too and for that they had no choice but to listen to what she had to say.

“If this being about race makes you uncomfortable then let us make this about justice.” Her auburn brows were bent with unrelenting determination. Her jaw set with single-minded pursuit. Delani would hear no argument. All she had ears for was rectification. “People were murdered, a crime was committed, and the guilty parties all but walked away without a single reprimand. Your cities all have punishments befitting crimes such as these.”

Making an incredulous sound, Lord Stratmond of Hercinia was quick to rebuke, “Is that what you want, Inquisitor, to punish us for a misunderstanding?”

“What I want is justice, for my people.” She spoke at a normal decibel, her features calm and assertive, her body relaxed and in control. She was the leader of the Inquisition, a delegate and an ambassador. Delani was a natural and these men had not expected to contend with someone of her caliber.

Still they found footing to argue.

“Your people are gone,”  Lord Ramsey of Markham recalled. His thick eyebrows were knitted together with genuine confusion as he asked, “Why not let this go?”

Delani narrowed her eyes on the man and he leaned back in his seat, his head tilting to the side a bit as he avoided her gaze. “My people are elves,” she clarified for them all, since there was an apparent confusion regarding her motives for this meeting. “And I will let this go when they are given justice.”

The blonde haired woman sent from Ostwick did a quick glance over the faces of her Marcher comrades before meeting Delani’s gaze. Cira Trevelyan looked disappointed in her countrymen, and her expression was telling when she met and held Delani’s gaze. She could see reason, and she would help Delani make her fellow Marchers to see it as well.

Tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, she straightened in her seat and spoke in a strong voice befitting her station. “Ostwick may not have sent men to deal with the ‘elven threat’ in Wycome, but we did not take action against it either. If you have a suggestion on how we might right this wrong, my Teyrn has granted me authority to help your cause however you see fit.”

With a grateful nod, Delani replied, “Thank you, Lady Trevelyan. Your support and willingness to help shall be remembered.” Averting her gaze back onto the others, Delani explained what exactly it was that she wanted from these nobles and the cities they’d traveled from. “Wycome’s alienage was nearly destroyed by your attacking forces, and will need to be rebuilt.”

Her gaze swept over to the two men from Markham and they straightened in their seats. “It is my understanding that Markham does well for itself in the trade of lumber.”

The two men exchanged looks and it was the senior of them, Mossmour, who replied. “We deal with lumber, yes,” he gave his partner a sideways glance, long enough to catch the other man’s slight shrug before refocusing on Delani. “But no more than Tantervale or Hasmal.”

Delani arched an eyebrow. She looked to Lady Volant for confirmation and the woman shook her head. To the Markham men, she observed, “Over half of Markham’s trade profit is from the export of lumber. You have more mills than you have farms. A majority of all lumber exported from the Free Marches comes from Markham. Tantervale and Hasmal combined do not accrue the profits that you do selling wood.”

Caught, the men shifted in their seats and peered at Delani. Their argument, feeble as it had been, backfired and now their only choice was submission.

“Markham will supply the lumber necessary to rebuild the alienage,” Delani stated as though she hadn’t been detracted from her thoughts.

Affronted, Ramsey contended, “And who will pay for this lumber? Who will pay our men to cut down those trees, shape the wood, and have it shipped to Wycome? Surely you do not expect us to cover the cost simply because we regret what happened here?”

Cullen’s gaze moved from Lord Ramsey back onto Delani. Though he could guess that Delani expected them to do just that, he also knew that she knew better. The wood that Markham would send would likely cost more than the combined lives of each of her clan-mates and the elves still alive in the alienage. Rebuilding the slums the elves lived in would be a costly affair, and even if they claimed to be “apologetic” there wasn’t a chance that they would do it without charge.

She came into this meeting prepared for such an argument, and easily supplied them with an answer. “The Chantry will cover the cost.”

Surprise cast a heavy shadow over the room and Delani gave it a moment to settle before gesturing to Mother Annette. The older woman nodded that they had heard Delani correctly. “It is the Chantry’s duty to help the needy in their time of suffering. Andraste calls us to serve our brothers and sisters, and the people of Wycome’s alienage are a part of my flock. I have sent word to the nearest Chantries and requested that they set up a donation box to help the relief effort.”

Cullen fought to keep his expression neutral. It came as a surprise to him to find that Delani had set this plan into motion long before the beginning of this meeting. He thought back to the day that Delani had ordered Duke Basilius to call for this gathering. She and Dashana had set out for the alienage that day. Was it possible that she’d gone to the Chantry as well on behalf of the elves? Evidently yes, because Mother Annette seemed steadfast in her conviction to Delani’s cause.

He was impressed.

To Delani, Mother Annette said, “With the help of the faithful we should be able to raise the funds to have the alienage rebuilt.”

“Thank you, Mother Annette.” Delani nodded to emphasize her gratitude. She turned to the representatives of the other two cities then, making it clear that she had not forgotten their part in all of this. “Ansburg and Hercinia will provide the remaining resources and the manpower necessary to have the alienage rebuilt in a timely and efficient manner.”

Aghast and horrified that they were being made to participate in any part of Delani’s plan, the nobles from both Hercinia and Ansburg made a series of disgruntled noises before Davenwin, one of Hercinia’s representatives, exclaimed, “You can’t be serious?”

Across from him, Ansburg’s Lord Glairne added, “Who do you think you are to make such demands from us? You may be the Inquisitor but the cities of the Free Marches answer to no ruler aside from our own.”

With a rigid back and an expression hard enough to cut cleanly through glass, Delani’s tone was dangerously level when she answered Lord Glairne’s question. “I am the Inquisitor,” she reiterated. “I am the Herald of Andraste, mouthpiece of the Bride of your Maker. It was I who hand selected the next Divine. I am the one who the Templars and the Grey Wardens follow. I have among the largest and widespread military force in Thedas. All it would take is one word for me to bring the whole might of the Inquisition down on each of your cities one at a time, and none of your fellow Marchers would even consider standing beside you for fear of suffering the same fate.

“I am a Dalish elf, and if you think for one second that I will not hold you personally responsible for the atrocity committed here you will know what true regret feels like.” All were held prisoner to Delani’s hard gaze. Their eyes were wide and jaws were slack as they fully processed the reach she possessed. She breathed in deeply, taking a second to make sure her mask of aloof professionalism was still in place.

Calmly, she stated, “I am leaving you with two options: cooperation, or excommunication.” A gasp tore through the room, murmurs of ‘can she do that’ passing between them as they looked around at their peers.

Cullen watched as the nobles scrambled to take stock of the situation. The truth of the matter was that, no, Delani couldn’t do that. Though it was true that she had sponsored Cassandra in becoming the next Divine, the power to excommunicate anyone belonged strictly to the Divine. It was a fact that they all knew, but with the kind of power that Delani had claimed to have it appeared that they did not want to run the risk.

Brow furrowed with confusion and distaste, Lord Rosenrow wondered, “You would truly lead an exalted march on the Free Marches over the lives of some elves?”

Jaw working as she ground her teeth, Delani was able to maintain a straight face as she held Lord Rosenrow’s gaze. After three seconds the man had to look away and that was when Delani replied. “You would prefer that I lead an exalted march rather than just agree to amend the wrong you committed?”

“No,” Lord Mossmour interjected. “We gave an order that resulted in the deaths of innocents. Your solution is a mercy that none of us will take for granted.” He looked around the table until the other nobles all made some noise or gesture of agreement.

Pleased to have their, somewhat reluctant, compliance Delani nodded sharply in acceptance of Lord Mossmour’s words. To the whole of the group she said, “Then there is much that we have to discuss.”

A smile tried to wriggle its way onto Cullen’s mouth as he stared up at Delani. She was the picture of authority, a clear image of confidence and purpose personified. Cullen fought to keep his features expressionless. There were times that even he doubted Delani’s ability to play at diplomacy, but those doubts were baseless. Delani could politic with the best of them when she chose to.

Things were about to change in Wycome, and it was Delani who decided how.

Chapter Text

“Everything appears to be in order, Commander.”

Cullen didn’t look away from the sight of Delani calf deep in ocean water. The wind tousled her auburn hair and her hunter robes flapped with the breeze. She was something out of a painting and he wanted to imprint the image to his memory before he looked back to where Solas was standing behind him.

The apostate’s gaze was also on Delani, his thoughts well hidden behind an expressionless mask. Looking to Cullen, he nodded curtly and explained, “We’ve done all that we can here. It is time that we return to Skyhold.”

Cullen hummed in agreement. Not only had they done all that they could, they’d done more than anyone thought possible.

Delani’s meeting with the representatives of the nearby Marcher cities had ended better than Cullen could have ever anticipated. She’d managed to convince them to rebuild the alienage twice over, giving the elves acceptable living accommodations that didn't threaten collapse or the easy spread of disease. Once the nobles had agreed to do their part, she’d turned her focus onto the whole of Wycome. With the reluctant help of Mother Annette, and the eager encouragement of Harhen Kali, Delani had been able to lay the groundwork that would raise the elves in social status.

She’d persuaded Duke Basilius that opening trade to all Dalish clans would raise the city’s profitability. The equal treatment of elves would make Wycome a popularly visited location and more people directly resulted in more coin. But it was when Delani had influenced the Duke to open jobs and trades typically reserved for humans to elves as well, it was then that Cullen knew that everything Keeper Milathara had started was finally coming to fruition.  

When they’d come to Wycome it had been a tomb filled with the bodies of innocents and Delani’s loved ones. Now they were leaving Wycome with the promise of progress, change orchestrated by Delani. It was the start of something great and Cullen was proud to have played even a small part in it all.

A deep breath brought with it the scent of sea salt and the coastal flora that thrived along the water’s edge. On the tail of his exhale Cullen said, “I’ll go inform the Inquisitor.”

“Also inform her that there are two who have come to see her off.” Solas gestured over his shoulder and Cullen followed the movement to find a blonde elven mage with a young human boy at her side.

He nodded again before stepping past the blades of tall grass and onto the beach dividing him from Delani. The sand broke under his boots, the salt hardened grains crumbling under his weight and kicking up as he neared the coming tide. Cullen strode into the ebbing water but stopped before it could fill his boots. Shouting over the coastal wind and the roar of crashing waves, he called for Delani’s attention and caught his breath when she turned to give it.

Her eyes were bright, reflecting the daylight off of the ocean’s surface, and making it appear as though they were emitting their own glow. Rings of golden sunlight encircled her pupils and bled into a thousand shades of green. Emerald, jade, malachite, and garnet, her eyes were a hundred gemstones combined and more beautiful than any discovered by man or dwarf. Strands of deep auburn were swept into her face by the wind, and the startling contrast between the green of her eyes and the red of her hair made the intensity of her gaze all the more piercing.

Delani was a goddess born of the earth in all its beauty and, sometimes, Cullen was suddenly reminded of that fact.

A smile, small and encouraging, pulled at the corners of his mouth as Delani hiked up her ropes and trudged through the water in his direction. Though her expression was thoughtful and introspective, her eyes were clear of the agony that had been filling them to the brim since discovering her clan’s fate. She had endured her worst fears, and she would continue to endure, because Delani was a survivor and she was strong.

When she was close enough to speak to at a normal volume, Cullen informed her, “It’s time.”

She nodded, quiet as she left the ocean waters to stand in front of Cullen. Tucking her windblown hair behind an ear, the plump flesh of her bottom lip found its way between her teeth and she glanced over her shoulder at the horizon behind her. When she looked back at Cullen it was with the explanation, “I was just saying goodbye.”

Cullen placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into his chest. Hugging her tightly, he placed a kiss on the crown of her head and breathed in her wildflower scent. Into her hair, he hummed, “Your mother would be so proud of all that you’ve done here.”

Her arms tightened around him and Delani peered up from his chest to meet his gaze. Her voice was small, but was absent the torment he’d grown so accustomed to hearing in it, when she said, “She’s with papae now. They will finally get the forever that they had promised each other in life.”

Another kiss to the top of her head and Cullen released her from his arms. His hands fell to his sides before he laced his fingers through hers, and guided them from the water toward the tall grass where their mounts were waiting. “There is someone who has come to say goodbye,” he informed her, gently squeezing her hand.

Sea green eyes quickly found Dashana and Jack as the pair stepped out of the grass and onto the beach to meet them halfway. “So she decided to stay,” Delani observed, hugging herself to Cullen’s side as though he was her shield.

Feeling protective of the woman beside him, Cullen squeezed her hand again in reassurance and allowed her to hide behind him. Delani had begged Dashana to return to Skyhold with them, had argued and made case after case in attempt to persuade the First into accompanying them. They were all that remained of clan Lavellan, they needed to stay together. From the start Dashana had contested Delani, stating that she needed to stay and help rebuild, that someone needed to ensure that Duke Basilius kept his word. In the end Dashana had promised to think on it, if only to shut Delani up.

Delani was afraid to lose another clan-mate, the last one she had, and she needed Cullen’s proximity to serve as a reminder that she was not alone.

Releasing Dashana’s hand, Jack ran the rest of the way down the beach and launched himself at Delani. Cullen unlaced his fingers with hers so that she could hug the boy properly. She took a knee in front of Jack and held him at arm’s length to see his face.

Jack had changed since their arrival in Wycome. His blond hair was clean and had a healthy shine, and the muck had been scrubbed from his surface. The boy had been fitted with clothes his size and had not gone hungry a single night. He was well taken care of, a promise made and kept for once in his young life.

Straightening out the copper pendant around his neck, Delani offered the child a soft turn of her lips as she said, “It looks like this might be goodbye for us, sera Jack.”

Blue eyes glittered with sadness and he asked, “I will see you again, won’t I?”

“Creators willing,” Delani answered. She combed his hair out of his eyes and caressed the side face until she had a finger tucked under his chin. “You are a Dalish hunter now. Do you know what that means?”

When Jack shook his head, she provided, “It means that we protect each other, always. It means knowing when to use our words and when to use your weapons. And it means that you belong to a clan, my clan, and we are family. Protect Dashana, for she is Keeper now and I cannot protect her myself.” Pressing a kiss to his brow, Delani quietly said, “Ar lasa mala enansal falon, da’len.”

He threw his arms around Delani’s neck and hugged her tightly. She returned his embrace with a muttered elven endearment and stood to her feet when Jack finally freed her from his grasp. Her gaze lifted from the boy to the mage woman who had stopped a few feet away. When Dashana spread her arms Delani stepped into the taller woman’s embrace and hugged her fiercely.

Voice muffled by Dashana’s shoulder, Delani asked, “Are you certain you cannot come with us?”

“You know I want to, lethallan,” Dashana answered, still tightly clutching onto the Inquisitor as if for the last time. “But you’ve started something tremendous here in Wycome, and someone must stay behind to ensure that these nobles remain true to their word.”

Finally she released Delani and held her at arm’s length. Smiling softly at her clan-mate, she revealed, “I have something for you,” and nodded toward Jack. The boy bolted back into the tall grass, running for the mount that they’d ridden in on to see them off.

Averting her gaze back onto Delani, her smile grew. “I thought that it had been lost or stolen in the chaos of the attack, but Hahren Kali informed me that one of the city’s elves had kept it safe incase I’d survived the attack.”

The confusion in Delani’s features was one he shared, until Jack reemerged from behind the dancing blades of grass with a staff in hand. A gasp sounded from Delani and recognition settled in his mind at the same instant. He’d seen that staff only twice before.

Once while visiting clan Lavellan after saving them from bandits, and again when he’d invited the Keeper to visit Skyhold. The ironbark staff was shaped by two long pieces, wound together like a lovers embrace, and at the top, where an enchanted bloodstone was nestled, were two halla standing on their hind legs and dancing in combat.

That was Keeper Milathara’s staff, the only thing of her mother’s that had survived the attack on Wycome.

Delani stared, wide eyed, as Jack brought over the staff and held it out. In the seconds that followed Delani’s hesitance to take the staff, Dashana carefully took it from the boy’s outstretched hands and held it between her and Delani. She gave her clan-sister an expectant look and reminded her, “This is your mother’s staff, Delani. It belongs to you now.”

A tentative hand reached out to take the ironbark into her hands, but Delani pulled back before making contact. She shook her head and took a retreating step back, bumping into Cullen’s chest in her hasty retreat. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and Delani shook her head again.

“I am not a mage, Dashana,” she argued, finding any reason to turn away the staff even when Cullen knew how badly she wanted it. “I’ve no use for a staff. You were her First, you’re Keeper now. She would have wanted you to have it.”

Dashana huffed through her nose, irritated amusement at Delani’s excuses. Blue eyes narrowed on Delani and her expression hardened. She would hear no more discussion on the topic, and her impatience was further emphasized by her shoving the staff into Delani’s hands.

“Your father presented this staff to your mother on their bonding day.” With an incredulous shake of her head, Dashana countered, “She would have wanted you to have it, and we both know it.” Impatient with Delani’s residual hesitance, she ordered her to, “Take it, and keep it close. Items made in love carry luck, and you will need all of the luck you can get to defeat this Corypheus creature that threatens us.”

Cullen noticed when Delani’s hands went to the knife on her belt and to the coin strung around her neck. Taking in a deep breath, she nodded and finally accepted the offered staff. “Thank you, Dashana.”

The other woman relinquished the staff with a soft smile and the assurance, “There’s no need to thank me. I am but returning what is yours.”

“All the same,” Delani’s gaze was on the staff as she lovingly trailed her fingers along it’s length as though she were caressing her mother’s arm. Looking up to meet the mage woman’s gaze she said again, “Thank you.”

Dashana’s smile was understanding. She glanced down to the boy at her side and placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Gently she suggested, “Da’len, you should say goodbye to Hellathen before Delani and her companions leave.”

Jack grinned excitedly and looked to Delani for her approval. “Can I?” he asked, his toothless simper an endearing sight.

“Of course you can,” Delani answered. She reached up to where Cullen’s hand was still on her shoulder and squeezed his fingers softly. Stepping out from under his grasp, she offered to accompany the boy with an outstretched hand. When Jack placed his hand in hers, she said, “Let us go together, I’ve some treats in my bag that you can give him as a farewell gift.”

She and Jack started for the grass and Cullen lingered behind. He had recognized Dashana’s suggestion for what it was: an excuse to get Cullen alone, and he was curious to discover what it was she wanted. Once Delani was out of earshot the blonde elf turned her attention onto Cullen and regarded him carefully.

Lifting her chin, Dashana stood with defiance and pride and Cullen thought of the words the Dalish held so dear. Never again shall we submit. While there wasn’t distrust between them, his acquaintanceship with Dashana was based off of little more than professional respect. He was human, and she did not know him well enough to see anything deeper than that.

“It’s my understanding that Keeper Milathara gave you her blessing to marry Delani,” started Dashana, cutting straight to the point so that their discussion could be over all the sooner. Cullen arched an eyebrow in reply and she held his gaze with something akin to indecisive disapproval in her eyes.

Cullen palmed the pommel of his sword and rolled his shoulders back. When he stared down at the short elven woman it was with an expectancy in his gaze as he supplied, “She did,” with a challenge in his voice; daring her to go back on her predecessor’s words.

They held each other’s gazes, both unflinching and refusing to back down from an argument that was still dormant between them. Her eyebrows pinched together as she regarded Cullen. Giving him a critical once over, Dashana confessed, “I must admit that I did not approve when the Keeper told me as much.”

He didn’t trust himself to reply, and decided that silence was his best weapon at the moment.

After a few seconds she sighed through her nose and carried on with her thought. “But I see now what she must have seen in you from the beginning.” The corner of Dashana’s mouth twitched into a smile that disappeared twice as quickly. “You balance Delani, and give her strength. I doubt that she would have survived the death of her clan if it weren’t for you.”

The doubtful huff that Cullen let loose was involuntary. Throughout this whole journey it was only at its end that Delani had opened herself up to him. She’d shut him out from her pain and had closed off her emotions to him. Cullen had wanted to be there for her, but it wasn’t until just recently that she’d allowed him close enough to help her heal.

Noticing the uncertainty in his features, Dashana was quick to assure him, “It’s true, Commander.” She glanced back into the tall grass and Cullen followed her gaze to where Delani had Jack hoisted up on her hip so that he could properly pet the hart’s muzzle. When she looked back at Cullen there was another smile hinting at her lips, this one lasting a fraction of a second longer than the one before it.

“Delani is…” she paused, carefully selecting her words as to not insult her clan-mate. Dashana locked eyes with him again and completed, “passionate. She always has been. Her emotions guide her and, at times, she feels everything in extremes. The death of our people —of her mother— it would have been a crippling blow. If not for you she would have lost herself to her loss and anger, but it was the fear of losing you that kept her from the brink.”

Dashana placed a hand on Cullen’s forearm. “You may not realize the role you played in all of this, but I can assure you that the only reason that Wycome still stands, or that Delani even draws breath still, is because of you.” Her hold fell from his arm and Dashana released a defeated sigh. “And that is why I will respect Keeper Milathara’s wishes. When you decide to become bonded to Delani, let me know if you require my assistance in anything.”

His eyebrows shot up with his surprise. That he had not expected. Bowing his head in gratitude, Cullen confessed, “That is most appreciated, Keeper Dashana.”

At the sound of her inherited title Dashana smiled again. It was a poignant turn of her lips that was quickly wiped away when her features turned resolute. “You are a good man, Commander.” She nodded, signaling the end of the conversation and turned around to join the other’s in the field just outside of Wycome’s walls.

Cullen followed her steps into the tall grass and strode over to where Delani was with Jack. She gave him a curious look as he walked closer, her eyes asking after what he and Dashana had been discussing and he nodded in reply. It was an assurance that everything was alright and that they would discuss it later, she mirrored the gesture.

She set Jack back onto his feet when Cullen was standing beside her and ruffled the boy’s hair. The young human child threw his arms around Delani’s waist again and squeezed her fiercely. It was only when Dashana placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder and pulled him back, that the boy released Delani and allowed himself to be pulled away from her.

“Take care of each other,” instructed Delani, a sad smile twitching along the edges of her lips. “And should you ever change your mind, Skyhold’s gates are always open.”

A quiet and amused chuckle escaped from Dashana. The mage woman shook her head slightly and gave Delani a sympathetic look. “Dareth shiral, lethallan.”

Delani’s thick auburn eyebrows were furrowed with his hesitation. When Cullen placed an encouraging hand on her shoulder she looked up at him and pressed her lips into a line. After a heavy sigh she nodded, and looked back to Dashana with the reply “Until next we meet, asa’ma’lin.”

Rounding Hellathen, Cullen helped Delani into the saddle before climbing onto his own horse. With the last of their goodbyes made there was nothing left but days worth of travel between them and Skyhold, and he was eager to get their journey started. He and Dashana shared a final look, both nodding in silent understanding.

With a click of his tongue and a tug on Calanhad’s reins, Cullen set them into motion and led the path away from Wycome. He marveled at the breathtaking horizon before them. The green fields of tall grass went as far as the eye could see. It was a new day and the end of one of the most trying points in their lives. He hoped that, from this moment forward, things would be easier, smoother, and they could return their focus onto defeating Corypheus.

Winter in the Free Marches was bearable. The weather was cool, but not cold, comfortable during the day before plummeting several degrees at night. Winter in the Frostbacks was another beast entirely. It was biting, unforgiving, a fearsome terror that would claim lives if one was not careful. Delani had almost forgotten how much she hated it, but the journey to Skyhold had refreshed her memory.

At least the snow had stopped falling by the time the fortress came into view around the bend. Delani had stared at Skyhold with a feeling of emptiness inside of her. For so long she had stood in her own way of truly accepting it as home. In her heart the only home she had was with her clan, and now her clan was gone. In their absence an abysmal hole had formed, steep, bottomless, a void that could only ever be filled by the blood of those who thought the murder of her people was justice.

But something had changed.

She glanced over at Cullen, who was riding beside her. The sight of him stole the breath from her lungs. His yellow gold hair shone like strings of silk, curling around his ears and over his brow, in need of a trim and looking a little wild. Not being able to shave during the rush of their travels had left him with the beginnings of a magnificent beard. His skin was rosy from the wind, snow, and cold mountain air. And the clear blue sky above magnified the brilliance of his eyes.

They were treasures beyond price, gold, jasper, citrine; gems that she knew of only by name and believed in because they existed in his eyes. The way they caught the sun, the brightness with which they shone, they were filled with life giving light, and answered a question too painful to ask. Where is home, echoed the void in her chest that had once been filled by kin and clan. All it took was a look into those beautiful amber eyes for her to know the truth.

Cullen was home. His laugh, his smile, the warmth of his arms, the completion of his love. Home was where he was, because he was her home.

The weight of her gaze pulled his eyes onto her. Blond eyebrows knit with concern and Cullen asked, “What’s wrong, ma atishan?”

She shook her head and averted her gaze forward again. Softly she supplied, “The last time we took this path I was about to discover the massacre of my clan.” With a sideways glance back at Cullen, Delani finished, “It feels like a lifetime ago.”

The scar on his lip pulled as Cullen’s mouth twisted with thought. He was silent for a moment, allowing nothing but a cold winter wind to fill the quiet that followed. When he met Delani’s gaze again it was with the words, “It did happen a lifetime ago.” The turn of his lips was small and encouraging, the slightest pull of muscle that reassured her that he would always be with her. “We are not the same people we were the last time we took this path.”

Though true, did that make them better versions of themselves, or worse? Delani hummed. Time would tell, she supposed.

The rest of the way to Skyhold was made in reflective silence, Cullen’s thoughts likely on the literal mountain sized pile of reports that awaited him. Solas too was quiet as they rode, had been throughout the entirety of their trek, and Delani knew that she was to blame. As they made it through the gates and returned their mounts to the stables, she knew that she needed to mend the rift she had torn between them.

As Cullen walked Calanhad over to his stable, Delani wondered, “You said that Leliana had managed to smuggle Blackwall into Skyhold while we were away.”

He gave her a curious look and nodded in answer. “She has,” Cullen supplied, “But that is something that you can deal with later.”

“No,” was her quick rebuke. “He’s been waiting in a cell for too long already. I will deal with him now.”

Delani’s gaze then went to Solas, who was already opening the door to his hart’s stable and was about to guide the beast inside. “If you have a moment, Solas, I would like to speak with you.”

Surprised by her request, Solas paused mid-step and gave her a confused look. After a second he bowed his head and murmured, “As you wish, Inquisitor.”

When she looked back at Cullen his eyebrow was arched in question and she nodded that she would answer him later. Now she needed for him to get Blackwall into the main hall and prepare everyone within for his trial. It was time that Delani deal with the mess she’d left behind to go avenge her clan. Cullen was right. The people they were before were dead, and the people they were now had a war to finish.

She and Cullen separated, him to go put up his steed and then hurry into the keep, and her to brush down Hellathen before speaking to Solas. She was just about to put the brush away when the male elf announced himself at the stall’s entrance.

“You wanted to speak, Inquisitor?”

Delani shook her head, pulling Hellathen’s saddle onto her shoulder so that she could carry it from his stable. She closed the gate behind her and strode the short distance to the saddle rack. As she set it down, she corrected Solas on her intentions. “I wanted to apologize.”

She looked up from the beautiful leatherwork of her hart’s saddle and met Solas’s surprised gaze. Blue eyes were wide as he waited, an eyebrow quirked with an inquiry that he did not have to voice. Apologize for what?

Where did she even begin?

Combing her fingers through the thickness of her hair, Delani gathered the words that had gone unspoken for too long already. After a sigh, the exhale serving to push the words out of her, Delani started, “I said some things—“

“Da’len,” he interrupted her, his hand raised to stop her from finishing her thought. Blue eyes softened with understanding, and Solas offered her a small smile as if to dissuade her from going on. With a shake of his head, he assured her, “This is not necessary.”

Delani shook her head, refusing to be excused from her actions, from her behavior, from all the terrible things she’d allowed herself to say to him. “It is necessary,” she argued, her words forceful and unyielding. She needed to say it, and he needed to hear it.

“I was in pain. My clan was gone and I was lashing out against you and Cullen, the two people trying to help me.” Her hand reached out to him then, her fingers curling around the curve of his forearm and squeezing him gently. Delani held his gaze as she remembered, “You did not deserve the things I said to you, or the treatment I showed you. Throughout all of this you have been a steadfast friend to me, even when I did not deserve your friendship.”

Solas placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed her fingers. He held her gaze as she continued, allowing her to finish the apology she’d postponed for far too long. Looking into the blue of his eyes, Delani confessed, “I regret my behavior and all of the things I said. I regret saying that you are not one of my people, when the truth is that you are one of the only people I have left. You are a trusted and beloved friend, the brother I never had, and I am so deeply sorry for the way I was to you.”

She dropped her hand from his arm and shook her head again, regret and guilt budding and blooming, weeds that only Solas’s forgiveness could pull from her chest. “Emma abelas, isa’ma’lin.”

A hand reached out between them, his fingers brushing aside her hair as he looked at her with affection in his eyes. Solas’s brows were furrowed with thought as he returned his arm to his side. Slow to extend his forgiveness just yet, he inquired, “What were you like, before the anchor, before the Inquisition, before,” he shook his head, “all of this?”

Caught off guard by his question, Delani held her hand out between them. The anchor glowed, green light flashing with power before she balled her fingers up into a fist. Her shoulders jumped with her shrug and she supplied, “I can hardly remember.”

He was unsatisfied with her answer. “Has it affected you,” he pressed, digging for more, needing an explanation to his real question. One he would likely never ask her. “Has it changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your… spirit?”

Delani scoffed and shook her head. Rubbing her brow, she professed, “I have changed, Solas, a thousand times since my journey to the Conclave. My mind, my morals, my spirit, none are what they once were, and I don’t think that it has anything to do with the anchor.” The green glow of her palm drew her gaze again. Though it was true that her life would have turned out differently had she not been marked with the anchor, the anchor itself was not to blame for everything that had happened to her.

Silence joined them for a moment, uncertainty riding its coattails, until Solas finally broke it. “You are wild, lethallan, a creature driven by emotion and even so you have shown a wisdom that I have not seen since…” he caught his words, deciding their propriety before finishing his thought. “Since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade.”

He stared at her, confusion in his voice when he admitted, “You are not what I expected.”

“What are you getting at, Solas?”

“Most people are predictable,” he tried to explain, giving just enough light to his thoughts for Delani to at least see the sincerity of them, even if she didn’t fully grasp their meaning. “Even when your actions have lacked subtlety, or even tact, you have a wisdom that goes against everything I expected. If the Dalish have raised someone with a spirit like yours… have I misjudged them?”

Finally Delani understood. Upon first meeting Solas all that he saw when looking at her was her vallaslin. She was Dalish, an elf that could not accept the past nor understand it. He had accused her of close-mindedness before a real conversation had been struck between them, and Delani had reacted poorly. Surrounded by humans, Andrastian shems who persecuted her people, she had sought Solas out in search of solidarity; only to find that he distrusted her as much as the humans she’d been forced to work with.

Time had changed their relationship, and understanding had formed between them, which then bloomed into friendship in time. His initial distrust of her had stemmed from her being Dalish, and his residual doubt remained for the same reason. But now Solas had seen for himself what it was like to lose a clan. He had witnessed what being Dalish meant, not only to Delani, but to any elf who chose it. Solas wanted to know if the anchor had made her less “elfy” and he would be disappointed by her answer.

“My people aren’t perfect, Solas,” she provided with a slight twist of her lips. “But we are trying to remember the past, while still pressing on with our future.”

An exhale breezed through his nose before Solas corrected her. “Our people,” he said, a small smile coiling the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps that is it. I suppose it must be. Most people act with so little understanding of the world, but not you.”

Delani looked up at him in confusion and asked, “So what does that mean?”

The smile toying at the corner of his mouth grew and he answered, “It means that I accept your apology, asa’ma’lin.”

Relief washed over her and Delani pulled Solas into a hug. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clutched onto him until he returned her embrace. Glad that she had not lost her closest friend to her behavior, Delani said, “Thank you for all that you have done for me through all of this. I will never be able to repay you.”

She released him from the hug and they both took a step back. Offering Delani a small smile, he admitted, “Your friendship is payment enough.”

His words pulled her mind from the relief of his forgiveness. Friendship was not payment, nor was it justice. Though she had been forgiven for her wrongs, there was still one waiting to be judged for his own. Delani had nearly lost a friend to her rage, now it was time for her to decide if she lost another to amend a past wrong.

With quick parting words Delani left the stables and Solas behind, hurrying for the main hall where she would stand judge of a man she’d once thought she knew. The weight in her chest grew heavier and heavier with each step toward the double doors. Once she shoved them open, Delani was met with a blast of tension.

The hall was silent as she walked its length toward the throne. Nobles and soldiers shifted their weight, unsure whether her return was welcome, or what exactly it meant for the whole lot of them. Answers to all of their questions would come with Thom Rainier’s judgment.

Climbing the steps of the dais, Delani sat atop the throne and glanced to her right. Josephine fidgeted, her clipboard pressed to her bosom as her hazel eyes met Delani’s with an apologetic shine. When Delani nodded sharply the Antivan woman took that as her cue to proceed.

There was a shake in her voice when Josephine spoke, a sadness that Delani felt to her core. Her thoughts were clearly on the blood Delani was still thirsting for. “For judgment this day, Inquisitor, I must present captain Thom Rainier; formerly known to us as Warden Blackwall”

The sound of a door opening was followed by the clink of chains and the drag of heavy feet. Inquisition soldiers pulled their prisoner along, the convicted strode with his head bowed, prejudging his own fate and knowing that he deserved whatever it would be.

“His crimes,” Josephine cleared her throat, banishing the emotion that spilled into her voice and the dread that wrinkled her brow. “Well, you are aware of his crimes. It was no small expense to bring him here, but the decision of what to do with him is now yours.”

She looked back at Delani and bowed her head before taking the steps off of the dais, washing her hands of whatever guilt she felt. What happened to Blackwall —Thom Rainier— now lied solely on Delani’s hands. Whatever guilt there was to feel would be hers alone.

Delani raised her chin as she regarded the forlorn man before her. He’d been sitting in an Inquisition cell for so long already, waiting, knowing that he deserved death and anticipating the day she would return and decide his fate.

The day had come.

“Why are you here, Thom Rainier,” Delani asked, her voice low and level. He had been with her long enough to know the danger in her tone. They had been close enough friends for him to recognize what it meant.

Blackwall looked up from the ground and met her gaze. His eyes were filled with guilt, with regret, with pain and acceptance. He was ready to die. “You know why I’m here.”

Her lip curled back into a snarl and Delani leaned forward on her throne. Digging her nails into the armrests of her seat, she hissed, “I want to hear you say it.”

“I ordered the murder of Lord Vincent Callier,” Blackwall spat, the words a poison in his mouth. Forced to say the words he had spent so many years running from, Blackwall nearly appeared  as though he were in physical pain as he continued. “My men slaughtered his guards, his servants, his wife and their children. It was a massacre, and I gave the order.”

Delani shook her head in disgust. “A family murdered, slaughtered, killed like livestock.” Lip still curled in outrage, she wondered, “I wager you can imagine how easily I can identify with such a tragedy.”

Her gaze flicked to her left, standing just a few steps to the side. Cullen’s jaw was tense as he watched her, as he waited for her decision beside the rest of the court. Amber eyes shone with strength and certainty, and Cullen nodded ever so slightly. He trusted her to do what was right. He trusted her instincts to know what that was.

Leaning back into her throne, Delani steepled her fingers as she stared at Blackwall. It was the prisoner who broke the silence. There was conviction and determination in his voice. “I accept my punishment, Inquisitor. I am ready for all of this to end. You know what you must do. You must decide what becomes of me now.”

“You’re right,” Delani agreed. “I decide what happens now.” She looked around the throne room and let loose a heavy breath. Sitting up in the uncomfortable seat that she had never wanted, Delani rolled her shoulders to carry the weight of the decision that now rested upon them.

She regarded Blackwall for a second and knew what had to be done. “I’ve decided that I have lost too many people already.” Blackwell’s attention snapped to Delani and he shook his head. Ignoring the shock in his eyes, she continued. “I’ve decided that I am tired of losing loved ones, and that I will not lose another; especially not by my own sword.”

Taken aback, Blackwall wagged his head, trying to clear the confusion from his mind. “It cannot be as simple as that,” he argued and Delani scoffed.

Nothing about the path she had set him on was simple.

“It isn’t,” she assured him. “Thom Rainier died the day you took Blackwall’s name. Time has changed you, and I cannot condemn a man for another’s crimes.” When the confusion lingered in Blackwall’s features, Delani explained, “You are free to atone as the man you are, not the traitor you thought you were, or the Warden you pretended to be.”

“The man I am,” he murmured, his mind reeling. “I barely know him. But he— I have a lot to make up for.”

Blackwall took a knee in front of Delani and lifted his bound fist to his heart. Head bowed in respect, he said, “If my future is my own, then I pledge it to the Inquisition. My sword is yours.” After a pause, he looked up again to lock gazes with Delani. There was a hint of a smirk hiding just under his beard. Blackwall wondered, “If I’d said anything less, would an arrow from the rookery have snuffed me like a candle?”

Delani quirked an eyebrow and leaned her elbows on her knees. Nodding for the guards to unchain her companion, she said, “Take your post, Thom Rainier,” and a blanket of relief fell over the whole of the great hall.

His shackles fell from his wrists and clattered to the ground. Blackwall turned and the crowd parted to let him pass. With the task of judging her friend finally complete, Delani shoved herself from the throne and started down the dais toward Cullen, only to be caught by the sound of Josephine’s voice.

“Inquisitor,” she flagged Delani down and intercepted her before she could even think of escape. The Antivan woman’s finely shaped eyebrows were bent with worry, with regret, with an apology she had likely practiced a million times since Delani had left Skyhold for Wycome.

Delani glanced over her shoulder to find Cullen standing behind her, and turned again to look Josephine in the eye. “Lady Montilyet,” she returned before pressing her lips together and waiting for Josephine to say what she needed to say.

Josephine’s hazel eyes bounced between Delani and Cullen as she gathered her words. After a second or two she finally confessed, “There is something that I wanted to show you.” There was a pleading look in her eyes when she requested, “If you would please follow me.”

When Delani looked back at Cullen he nodded for her to trail after the Ambassador, and he kept stride beside her. They walked through the great hall and made a right before the exit. Josephine led them into the garden and walked towards its center before stopping in front of a sapling.

She turned to face her and Cullen, clipboard still pressed there her chest, and worried on her bottom lip as she regarded them. “The city elves have a tradition,” she started. “At the center of every new alienage a tree is planted. It is called the vhenadahl, the—“

“Tree of the people,” Delani finished for her.

Josephine smiled nervously and nodded that Delani was correct. “It's said to symbolize togetherness and community, unity against impossible odds and determination to not only survive, but to strive as well.” She looked down at the tiny sapling and a small, tentative smile curled her lips.

When Josephine looked back up at Delani she said, “Your clan is dead, but you still have a family. You are our leader, our friend, our sister, and we need you.” A single tear fell from her eyelashes and traveled uninterrupted down her cheek. “I am sorry for what my advice cost you.”

Delani cut the distance between them and pulled the taller woman into her arms. Hugging tightly onto Josephine, Delani said into her shoulder, “I forgive you, Josie,” repeating the words she herself had so desperately needed to hear. Even if Delani knew that there was nothing to forgive, a part of Josephine still blamed herself for the massacre at Wycome, and she needed that burden lifted from her shoulders.

Stroking Josephine’s back as she hugged her, Delani whispered, “I forgive you.”

Chapter Text

A continual tapping filled the room as Cullen absently drummed his fingers on the desk. There were reports from the Arbor Wilds spread over the surface before him, maps and sightings of Corypheus’s forces all scattered along the desk as he sifted through the pages. The Inquisition was preparing to move and amass its forces within the wilds, every move they now made was important and could cost countless soldiers their lives, and yet he couldn’t focus on the necessary preparations. There was work to be done and his mind was not in it.

There was a nervousness in his gut, a pit forming deep in his belly that left him feeling anxious and fidgety. He did the math in his head for the hundredth time, hoping that he had gotten it wrong the previous ninety-nine attempts. When he ended with the same answer as before dread cast a dark shadow over him and Cullen dragged his fingers through his hair.

At the sound of the door to the bed chamber opening, he snapped into focus and waited for Delani to appear behind the hand railing. Typically when visitors came to their room they announced themselves, or at least knocked, the lack of either meant that the source of his worry had finally decided to show herself.

Her gaze was downcast as she emerged from behind the banister, reading the report in her hand while climbing the last few steps into their room. Without looking up to acknowledge him, she said, “The war council is to meet within the hour to discuss our plan of attack on the Arbor Wilds. I’ve invited Loranil to join us and brief us on the Dalish clans who live there.”

“Have you read his reports?” Cullen asked, trying to ignore the nerves tightening his chest.

She nodded and waved the parchment in hand, “Reading them right now.”

Cullen watched as Delani strode over to the love seat and fell into its cushions. She rifled through her reports, her focus trained on reading each of them and retaining as much information as possible. To Josephine’s delight, Delani had returned to Skyhold with a newfound sense of purpose. She read every report that came to her desk and was on top of all of her paperwork. A task that had once been more akin to a chore had suddenly become high on Delani’s list of priorities, and Cullen knew that she was using the busywork to keep her mind off of everything that had happened.

She was only just starting to really move on from the loss of her clan. Any distraction was welcome, and the grueling paperwork required of the Inquisitor provided an endless supply of distractions.

Leg bouncing as he tapped his foot, Cullen’s gaze remained trained on the woman across the room from him. He inspected her lovely features, searching her face for any signs of discomfort or change. Delani looked the same, there was a pinch between her eyebrows as she focused on the reports in hand, and her bottom lip was currently caught between her teeth. Aside from looking concentrated on her work, she was the same as always; beautiful and breathtaking.

Perhaps he was worrying over nothing. Recalculating did not help to fill the pit in his gut. The math did not add up and that was cause to worry. Cullen felt foolish, they should have been more careful.

Sensing his ever-growing tension, Delani finally peered over the edge of her report and met Cullen’s gaze. At the sight of the expression on his face, her features tightened with her own concern. An auburn eyebrow shot up and Delani carefully asked, “Are you well, vhenan’ara?”

“I’m fine,” Cullen assured her, pushing himself from the desk chair and crossing the room to join her on the sofa.

Delani followed him the whole time, her expression tight with confusion and worry. She scooted a bit to make room for him and, once Cullen was settled in beside her, she shifted in her seat so that she could tuck a leg beneath her. Sea green eyes searched his features as she waited for him to say something.

Brushing her fringe away from her face, Cullen caressed her cheek and scoured his mind for the words to ask her the question that was causing his uneasiness to steadily grow with each passing moment. His lips twisted and he sighed through his nose, settling on the question, “How are you feeling?” and hoping that it would be an easy enough segue to the heart of the matter.

Brows bent with bewilderment, Delani shrugged when she supplied, “I’m alright, Cullen.” She lifted her hand to where his was cupping her cheek, and squeezed his fingers in reassurance. Misunderstanding where his concern was coming from, she promised, “I have already taken all of the time I can to mourn my clan. We’ve a war to win and cannot afford to spend any more time dwelling on the past.”

He nodded that he agreed and grimaced internally with the knowledge that she did not understand the origins of his question. Cullen allowed her to pull his hand from her cheek and hold it in her lap, threading her smaller fingers through his and holding his hand in reassurance. A heavy sigh escaped him and he knew that the only way to have this conversation was just to say what needed to be said.

“Delani,” he started with another sigh, his attention on his thumb as he traced the soft skin on the back of her hand. Glancing up to meet her worried gaze, he admitted, “I’m concerned about you.”

Her head tilted and Delani’s confusion grew. “Me?” she repeated with a perplexed shake of her head, before she investigated, “Why?”

Cullen grimaced, not wanting to say the words but knowing that there was no other choice. They were adults, and they loved one another, whatever came next they would resolve it as one. First they needed to be of one mind. “You… haven’t bled.” Delani’s eyes widened and the rest of his words spilled out in a jumbled mess. “It has been a week since the moon of your cycle and nothing has happened.”

Blinking several times, Delani tried to reorient herself with a shake of her head. She glanced over at him and opened her mouth as if to ask him something, only to shut it again when no words came out. A multitude of expressions passed over her features before they settled on discomfort. Her lip found itself pulled between her teeth again, and her deep crimson colored eyebrows were furrowed with thought.

When Delani turned to Cullen there was almost an accusation in her voice as she asked, “How do you know that?”

He was taken aback by how defensive she had gotten. Shoulders bouncing with his shrug, Cullen offered, “I’m commander of the Inquisition,” as explanation. “It’s important that everything keep to a schedule and that I am familiar with that schedule.” And this particular schedule was a matter of life altering importance.

Unthreading their fingers, Delani combed her hair out of her face and perched an elbow up on the back of the love seat. After a deep breath, she gave him a stern look and the affirmation, “It's nothing to worry about, Cullen.”

Incredulous, it took a few blinks for him to process her words and recognize the dismissal in them. “Nothing to worry about,” he repeated. Boring a disbelieving look into the side of her face, since she refused to meet his gaze, Cullen reminded her of the first night that they’d shared a bed in Wycome; since, clearly, she needed a refresher on how these things went.

“Delani, we didn’t take any precautionary measures that night you came to my bed chambers.” Cullen felt a pang of regret, not because of the night they had shared, but because the thought of preventing such consequences from happening hadn’t even crossed his mind. At the time he had been so entirely consumed by Delani, by his need to relearn and reclaim her, that it had left him mindless to any sense of responsibility. While he felt no need to place blame, the fact that they both knew better was not up for debate.

Delani stood from the sofa and started to pace in front of him. She raked her fingers through her hair and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she rebuked, still refusing to hold his gaze for longer than a second. “Everything is fine, there is no need to worry.”

He too stood from the sofa and caught Delani by the shoulders before she could do another lap around the room. Holding her in place in front of him, Cullen dipped his head a bit so that she couldn’t avoid his gaze. “Delani,” he started, exasperated with her insistent denial. “You cannot just pretend as though nothing happened, not when there is a very real chance that you could be—“

“Don’t,” she interjected, her voice sharp with warning, keeping him from saying the words that she did not want to hear. Delani shrugged out from under his hold and took a retreating step back. She scratched her head, her movements filled with irritation, and looked up to meet his gaze. Expression hard with forced conviction, she stated, “I am not with child.”

A bold statement considering that the evidence professed to the contrary. “How do you know,” he asked, humoring her denial if only to make her realize it had no place in the reality of their lives.

With a desperate wave of her hands she exclaimed, “I just know, alright?” To the hard look he was giving her she threw her head back and groaned. Delani wiped her hand down her face until it covered her mouth and shook her head. He could tell by the look in her green eyes that she knew how foolish she was being.

When she removed her hand from her mouth, Delani stated, “I can’t be with child,” and turned before catching the confused expression her words pulled onto his face. She began her pacing anew, her fingers in her hair as she sighed out, “We don’t have time for me to be with child.”

“Delani,” Cullen sighed. Out of all of the reactions he had imagined her to have, outright denial was not one of them. He should have known better. After everything in Wycome, and their return home, it was easier to focus on the war at hand than anything else. Delani’s possible pregnancy forced her focus elsewhere.

She shook her head, refusing his words before she could even hear them out. Quietly she repeated, “I am not pregnant.”

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Cullen watched her as she paced, and recognized how desperate her stride was, how her gait was filled with uncertainty and concern. Delani’s denial was out of self-preservation, but he could not allow it to continue.

With as calming a tone he could muster, Cullen informed her, “You cannot just say that and make it so.” She was shaking her head at his words and he continued on over whatever other refusal she was about to give him. “We acted irresponsibly and now we must deal with the consequences.”

“We don’t have to deal with anything because I am not pregnant.”

He shook his head. “You are being ridiculous.”

Even if she knew his words to be true, Delani still had it in her to argue with him. “Do you know what is truly ridiculous?” she asked, finally stopping in her tracks so that she could whip around to face him. Deep red eyebrows were knit with uncertainty and she folded her arms before her bust. With a cynical shake of her head, she supplied, “Having a child in the middle of a war. Corypheus still lives and the entirety of Thedas is looking to me to defeat him. I’m the Inquisitor. I need to lead armies from the front lines. I fight Venatori and Red Templars on a daily basis. I stand against the powers of evil and restore order to chaos. Nothing about our lives right now is fit to bring new life into this world.”

With a gesture at Cullen she included him in her list of reasons as to why she could not possibly be with child. “You have an entire army to command. Hundreds, no thousands, of lives depend on your single-minded dedication to the Inquisition.” Scraping her nails through her locks of deep auburn, Delani stated, “I can’t be pregnant. Not right now. Not when there is still so much left for us to do.”

The look he now gave her was sympathetic. No, now was far from optimal time for them to have a child, but they needed to talk about it all the same. His voice was soft, soothing when he spoke. “Delani—“

She clamped her eyes shut and shook her head. She would not listen. She was not ready. “I can’t talk about this any more, Cullen.” Opening her eyes, she met his gaze and there was an apologetic, even a somewhat remorseful, shine to her sea green eyes. With a final shake of her head, this time to clear her mind of the intrusive thoughts their discussion and unearthed, she started for the stairs and said, “The others are waiting for us in the war room. We’ve kept them waiting long enough.”

A heavy sigh escaped him before he followed her from their room. Delani’s steps were hurried as she rushed for the war room, running from Cullen as surely as she was running from their conversation. He sighed again. Cullen knew how Delani was and he hoped that, in a few hours, she would be ready to talk about what they were going to do. It would likely have to wait until after she had given Cornelius a thorough brushing, but Cullen could be nothing but patient when he had to be.

He ignored the din of the great hall and cut through Josephine’s office toward the cylindrical room at the end of the hall. When he opened the door to the war room it was to find the other advisors, Morrigan, and Loranil already in attendance. Delani was standing in her usual place, her hands held behind her back with a forced casualness he doubted anyone else noticed. The others nodded in acknowledgment of him and Cullen rounded the table so that he could stand between Josephine and Leliana.

Once he was standing in his normal spot, Delani started their meeting with a neutral, “Good, we’re all here.” She looked over her advisors and put on a face of command that he only ever saw her wear in this room. She was Inquisitor, and the lives of many depended on her appreciating the responsibility of that title.

With a roll of her shoulders she set them into a discussion that was weeks overdue. “Morrigan believes that Corypheus’s purpose in the Arbor Wilds has something to do with gaining control an Eluvian that can be found there, and I am inclined to agree with her.”

Leliana was the first to agree. “With an Eluvian Corypheus could cross into the Fade in the flesh.” Which was the Blighted magister’s original purpose, and also meant that their purpose was to stop him at all costs.

“Indeed,” Morrigan replied. “The Inquisitor can attest that these artifacts still work if one knows how to use them.”

Turning his question onto their arcane advisor, Cullen asked, “What happens when Corypheus enters the Fade.” It was a question he had not really thought to ask before, considering the fight that the Inquisition had put up thus far to prevent such a thing. But the thousand year old darkspawn was so close now, the Eluvian nearly within his reach. Though they planned to stop him in his quest for divinity there was still a chance that Corypheus would find what he was searching for in the Wilds.

Morrigan held Cullen’s gaze and gave voice to his concerns. “Why he will gain his heart’s desire and take the power of a god.” Her tone changed when she redirected her attention onto Delani. “Or, and this is more likely, the lunatic will unleash forces that will tear the world apart.”

“Can’t have that, now can we,” Delani drawled out, moving her hands from behind her back so that she could cross her arms in front of her chest.

A smirk hinted at Morrigan’s painted lips as she observed, “Stopping him was always the plan, t’was it not? The madman would bury us all.”

“Pardon me but,” Josephine politely cut in, pulling the room’s attention onto herself and carrying the weight of their gazes with the experience gained as the Inquisition’s ambassador. “Does this mean that everything is lost unless we get to the Eluvian before him?”

Cullen set his jaw. His hands found purchase on the pommel of the sword at his hip and his expression hardened as the realization of their disadvantage set in. “Corypheus has a head start no matter how quickly our army moves.”

To  which Josephine replied, “We should gather our allies before we march.”

From his other side. Leliana spoke the words that had come to Cullen’s mind. “Can we wait for them,” she asked. “We should send our spies ahead to the Arbor Wilds.”

His eyebrows rose with how eager she was to send her people to their deaths. “Without support from our soldiers?” Cullen shook his head at the prospect. “You’ll lose half of them.”

Josephine, always the voice of reason, intervened with the question, “Then what should we do?” to which Delani had the answer.

“We should probably start with not letting Corypheus worry us to death,” a smirk broke across her lips as she regarded the three of them. Under her breath she said, “Imagine how embarrassing that would be,” before turning her attention onto the other elf in the room.

The boy shuffled his weight from one foot to the other when all of their gazes landed on him. He bowed his head respectfully when Delani addressed him with an authoritative, “Loranil, Commander Cullen sent you into the Arbor Wild with the task of contacting the Dalish clans there on the Inquisition’s behalf. How did you fare?”

Holding his hands behind  his back, in a militant way he must have picked up from Cullen’s soldiers, Loranil supplied, “I am sure you’ve read the reports, Inquisitor. The clans were reluctant to speak with me, and even more reluctant once they knew that I was with the Inquisition.” Hazel eyes held Delani’s gaze unflinchingly, and he continued with his debriefing. “Their reluctance was only until a few weeks ago, however. Once word of your works in Wycome reached us it did not take much to change their minds.”

A smile cracked over the young man’s lips and Loranil stared at Delani with admiration and profound respect. Proudly he said, “The Dalish of the Arbor Wilds see that you will stand for your people, and so they have agreed to stand with you in return.”

Delani nodded, accepting his verbal report with the barest hint of a smile ticking the corners of her mouth, the sparkle in her sea green eyes betraying how much the hunter’s words had meant to her. Even if the others didn’t recognize how terribly Delani wanted the approval of her people, Cullen knew. How the Inquisition marched on the Wilds had depended greatly on whether or not the Dalish that lived there would lend their support. Now that they had it, they could continue with their plans without fear of hurting innocents; even unintentionally.

“Thank you Loranil.” Her gaze shot over to Lady Montilyet and Delani ordered her to, “Have our allies send scouts to meet us in the Wilds.” She then addressed Leliana, “Your fastest agents will join them, where they will meet with the hunters of the clans who have agreed to join us.”

Sea green eyes found Loranil again and the man stood at attention under Delani’s demanding gaze. “Can you arrange it, lethallin?”

A single nod, certainty in its curtness. “The hunters are eager to send the Venatori from their wood.”

Satisfied with his answer Delani then moved onto Cullen. They held each other's gaze for a moment, a silent conversation passing between them as she noted the worry in his eyes and he acknowledged the warning in hers. “That should give us enough spies to slow down Corypheus’s army until your soldiers arrive.”

He opened his mouth to reply but his words were stopped by the sound of Morrigan’s amusement. “Such confidence,” the witch observed with only the slightest condescending tilt to her tone. “But the Arbor Wilds are not so kind to visitors. Old elven magic lingers in those woods.”

Cullen noticed how Delani’s eyes narrowed, how her lips tightened into a thin line, and how she gave Morrigan an annoyed once over. When she spoke, however, her tone was neutral, polite even. “Then I suppose it is a good thing that we’ve recruited the help of the Dalish. Who better to understand elven magic than the elves who live there?”

She didn’t wait for Morrigan to reply. Refocusing on her advisors, Delani scanned over them one by one with a look of pride in her eyes. They were about to march on the Wilds, they were about to stand against Corypheus and his army once more, and instead of feeling the confidence in their likely success that he could see so clearly in Delani’s eyes, all Cullen felt was worried.

War meant battle, and there was not a single battle that Delani did not lead from the front. If there was any chance that she was carrying his child, then it was his responsibility to protect her and their baby. Sending Delani into the thick of battle somehow did not fit the bill.

Only partially hearing her commend them on their council and guidance, Cullen’s grip on the pommel of his sword tightened. His throat was dry with worry, his heart beating anxiously against his chest. Words of protest were fighting for freedom and when he opened his mouth to tell Delani how honored they all were to work alongside her, those were not the words that came out.

“Perhaps we should send someone else to lead the charge.”

Though those were not the words he had intended, Cullen didn’t regret them either. He knew that this was a discussion that he and Delani needed to have in private, but he also knew that she would fight having it until she had no choice in the matter. If bringing the attention of her other advisors to her ‘condition’ meant that he could keep her safe, then there was a part of him that was willing to risk her ire.

Delani’s expression widened with surprise before her eyes narrowed to pin pricks and she glared at him through thinly slitted eyelids. She had not expected him to bring up the conversation she’d tried so hard to avoid in front of the others. So accustomed she was to his propriety and professionalism that she hadn’t anticipated being called out in the middle of strategizing for war.

“We are going into the Arbor Wilds, in search of an elven temple, to stop Corypheus from gaining access to an Eluvian.” She reiterated their plan to him as though he had not been present in the room with them throughout the entire planning of it. “No one else is going to lead the charge, Commander.”

“But you—“

“Are fine,” she finished for him.

There was concern in Josephine’s voice when she asked, “Are you unwell, Lady Lavellan?”

She shook her head sharply and repeated, “I am fine. There is nothing to worry about.” Pointing a narrowed look into Cullen, Delani brought their meeting to a close with a dismissive, “We’ve a lot of preparing to do if we want to reach the temple before Corypheus does. Loranil, work with Sister Nightingale to to see how the Dalish hunters can be best put to use until our spies can join them.”

The hunter crossed his arms over his chest in salute, bowing slightly in acceptance of Delani’s orders. “Ma seranas, lethallan.”

She muttered some excuse about needing to speak with her inner circle to prepare for their journey into the wilds, and quickly made her escape from the war room. Once the door slammed shut behind her all eyes fell onto Cullen. He knew that they wanted to know what that had been about, but it was none of their business and he should not have brought it up to start with. After they were done here he would seek Delani out and they would talk. Until then, they had a battle to plan.

Perching his weight on his knuckles, Cullen leaned onto the table before them and stared at the bottom of the map of Orlais. Before the tension in the room could grow any heavier he wondered, “To work?” and the others quickly caught the hint.

Mythal’s tits, Cullen was not going to let this go. Why should he? He had every right to hound her the way that he was. It was not entirely unlikely that Delani was carrying his child, and her outright refusal to acknowledge even the possibility… she knew how she was behaving, that she was being moronic. But it was easier to deny that there was even a chance than it was to recognize the situation that they now faced.

“Fenedhis,” she cursed, grinding her teeth as she wove leaf covered vines together, working the flower crown into a circle as she tried to bat away her thoughts as they emerged.

She felt like she should know on instinct whether or not she was with child. It was something that a mother would know, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t she have felt nauseous in the morning, certain smells making her stomach turn? Wouldn’t her body have already started changing, becoming more sensitive, her emotions more heightened? All Delani felt was anxious and worried, and those were symptoms born of uncertainty, not pregnancy.

Mamae, what I would do for your wisdom right now. Delani thought as she braided flowers into the crown in hand. She sighed heavily through her nose when her mother’s voice sounded in her head. Talk with Cullen, da’mi. If a decision is to be made it is as much his to make as it is yours. Delani rolled her eyes. Always the voice of reason, her mother, even in death.

Grumbling to herself, Delani was too lost to her frustration, worry, and the fennec hole her thoughts were currently barreling down, for her to notice someone step up behind her. When a soft voice broke through the mess of her thoughts with a quiet, “What are you doing?” she jumped with a start and a yelp.

She glared over her shoulder, only for her expression to immediately soften when she found Morrigan’s son standing behind her. Kieran’s hands were held behind his back, and he was leaning in on the balls of his feet, peering over her shoulder to see what she was working on. Delani followed his gaze to the floral crown in her hands.

A smile expanded over Delani’s mouth and she forced her previous thoughts from her mind in welcome of the distraction Kieran promised to be. Scooting over a bit, she patted the grass beside her and her smile grew when the boy sat down beside her. She placed the crown atop Kieran’s head and grinned when it fell a little too far down his head, it wasn’t the perfect fit but she reacted as though it were anyway.

“My,” Delani started, “how handsome you look. Just like some kind of floral prince.”

A laugh appeared in Kieran’s eyes and he carefully removed the crown from his head. Too old to fall for her tone and be fooled into believing he did not look ridiculous, he confessed, “Mother likes Andraste’s Grace, but I prefer Embrium.”

At last, a problem with an easy solution. Delani offered the boy an encouraging grin and the question, “Did you want to make one out of Embrium? I can show you how.” Kieran nodded quietly and her smile grew.

Delani gathered all of the materials that they would need and set out to teach Kieran the art of crafting flower crowns. The boy was a quick study and once he understood the pattern the vines and stems were to be braided in, he no longer needed Delani’s help. They worked in relative silence, their shared quiet broken sporadically by Delani who told stories and jokes until she could place the boy’s sense of humor. She could tell by the laugh that shown so brightly in his eyes that he had one, but so far the most she could pull from him was a smile.

Kieran was curious, quiet, and intelligent beyond his years. Rarely had she seen him playing with the Skyhold’s other children, finding him instead close to his mother’s side in the garden, or exploring the neglected library in the level below. He was observant, seeing the world with eyes she didn’t understand, but he was also terribly sweet and good natured.

Her hands worked absently as she watched the boy weave his crown together. Bottom lip caught between her teeth, Delani thought of how proud Morrigan must have been to have mothered such a pleasant child. He was patient, curious, and if Delani looked at him closely enough she chanced catching a mischievous glint in his eyes. If she were to have a son, she wondered if he would be anything like Kieran.

Swallowing down the anxiety re-amassing in her throat, Delani shooed her wandering thoughts with a sharp shake of her head. She had always loved children, adored their vitality, and envied their innocence. In all the time that she had spent playing with Skyhold’s children, crafting with them, telling them tale tales, and teaching them Dalish nursery rhymes, the thought of ever having her own had never crossed her mind.

But now it was; it had to, because there was a chance that Cullen was right.

“Kieran,” she spoke softly, tentatively pulling the boy’s attention from his task.

Kieran met her gaze and the corners of his mouth curled a bit, a smile always ready on his lips no matter the occasion. Delani swept her fringe from her face and secured it behind a pointed ear. She recalled first meeting the boy, how he had seemingly peered into her very soul and made a comment about her blood being old. It had been strange, hearing such words come from a child, but now Delani wondered if there was more to the boy than what met the eye. Perhaps he could answer the question she had been avoiding all day.

The corner of her mouth plucked into an awkward smile, and Delani wondered, “Is there something different about me?”

His head tilted to the side and he regarded her closely for a second. “You are different. You’re the Inquisitor.” Such a soft voice, and so full of conviction. His words meant something else to him than they did to her, that much was obvious. Still it did not answer Delani’s question, or it was not the answer she had anticipated.

Right, Delani smirked at Kieran and returned her focus onto the crown in hand. She should have expected such an answer. She’d probably have better luck with Cole, or would have if he weren’t more human now.

Delani’s head fell. Asking such a question of Kieran had been silly. Whatever else he was, he was a child first and foremost. Did he even know how babies were made? Creators, what was she thinking?

Silence joined them once more as they worked, broken only when Kieran had finished his crown. His smile was soft, timid, with only the slightest shine of pride in his expression. Delani praised his work, and was genuinely surprised by how well he’d made his crown. Placing the leafy embrium halo on his head, she clapped in delight when it was the perfect fit. She put on her own crown so that he was not alone, and they continued to make more, the boy wanting to make one for his mother and Delani just needing to keep her hands busy.

Over an hour they had spent in Skyhold’s garden, only to be broken up when Morrigan came to collect her son. She grinned, her expression so full of boundless love, as she accepted her gift from Kieran. Wearing the crown made of Andraste’s Grace, Morrigan needlessly apologized to Delani for Kieran’s intrusion, and Delani waved off the mage’s words.

Brushing the dirt from her tights as she stood, Delani smiled warmly at Kieran and promised that she would see him again soon. She watched as Morrigan carted the boy off, listening to his gentle voice as he shared with her the afternoon’s events. Delani’s stomach twisted into a knot as her eyes followed the two across the garden before they disappeared around the bend.

Her ears twitched at the sound of someone stepping up behind her, and Delani instantly recognized the weight of those steps. Removing the crown from her head, Delani held it between her hands and stared at the blooming flowers, their lovely scent filling her lungs and clearing her mind. She had spent the whole morning running from him and this conversation. It was time that she stop running and face them both. They needed to talk, and she was finally ready to do so.

Without turning to meet Cullen’s gaze, Delani gently invited him to, “Walk with me,” and started for the stairs that would take them to Skyhold’s ramparts.

They climbed the steps in silence for a while before Cullen broke it with the observation, “I was expecting to find you with Cornelius, was on my way to the stables and everything when Varric informed me that you hadn’t gone that way.”

A smile played at the corner of her mouth and Delani glanced over her shoulder to where he was walking up the stairs closely behind her. An amused huff breezed out of her nose, and Delani shook her head at how well he knew her. “Good to know that I can still keep you on your toes, Commander,” she murmured in reply.

Cool mountain air gusted over the wall, chilling Delani’s face and tousling her hair as she stared out at the horizon. Winter’s grip on the Frostbacks was loosening, even if the frigid temperature made it hard to believe. Once on the ramparts she led Cullen further down the walkway, not willing to chance the wind carrying their conversation to unsuspecting ears.

Cullen kept pace beside her, patient and quiet as they walked, and Delani marveled at how good he was at that. Patience, Cullen had it by the spadeful; he needed it to tolerate her. She smiled slightly at the thought. He was thoughtful, considerate, kind, caring, he was everything that she remembered her own father to be; a connection she had made in the past but had never had cause to dwell on until now.

Knowing that she would never find a perfect spot to have their inevitable conversation, Delani forced herself to stop and face Cullen. She stared up at him, drinking him in. He was everything she needed him to be, and so much more. Cullen was more than a missing piece that completed her, he was so deeply ingrained into the fabric of her being that she was no longer an individual person without him. If there ever existed a person that she would want to start a family with, it would be the one staring down at her now. And he needed to know exactly that.

“Do you remember the first time we kissed,” Delani asked, turning away from Cullen to stare out at horizon again. She set the flower crown down on the ramparts' ledge before she rubbed her arms against the cold, admiring the view and the fresh air that came along with it. The faint smile on her lips grew when Cullen placed his cloak on her shoulders and claimed the space beside her.

There was amusement hinting in his voice when he supplied, “How could I forget.” He coughed out a laugh. “I was so nervous that my failed attempt at small talk started, and ended, with a comment on the weather.”

Delani laughed heartily at the memory. He had been so quick to blush at the start of their relationship, and look at him now. She turned around, leaning her back on the rampart’s ledge and holding the sharp corner in her hands as she stared up at her human lover. Cullen had grown so confident in himself, and in their relationship. She had not made it easy for him, and still he had stayed with her through everything.

Her fears of what would come did not stem from a thought that Cullen might leave her to face it alone. She knew better than that now, should have known it from the start. Her fears originated from where they always did, herself.

Swinging her hair out of her face, Delani took a deep breath in through her nose and released it through her mouth. She was far from ready to have this talk with Cullen, but they were going to do it regardless because this was as much his decision as it was hers, and they needed to come to a decision together.

“I…” how did they even go about this? Where did she start? Delani swallowed back her sense of doubt and focused only on the lovely color of Cullen’s honeyed eyes catching the daylight and shining in various shades of gold. Her lips twisted and she confessed, “I’m scared, Cullen.”

His expression softened and he took a step toward her, erasing the space between them and pulling her into the protection of his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed her cheek to the cool metal of his breastplate. Already the anxiety inside of her was no longer the beast it had been merely minutes prior. She’d always known that Cullen had this effect on her and still she stupidly decided to try and resolve everything herself. When would she learn?

Lips pressed to the top of her head and his arms tightened around her. She felt his words vibrate through him and sink into her skin. “I am too,” he said.

Clinging onto him a little tighter now, Delani absorbed his strength as best she could before breaking away a bit so that she could look him in the eye once more. The wind blew her hair into her face, and Cullen tenderly brushed it aside, holding her gaze as he waited for her to speak.

Delani’s gaze fell to his breastplate and she shook her head gently. “We’ve never even talked about this.” Chilled by a cold gust of wind, she wrapped herself up more snuggly in his cloak, practically hiding within the fur mantel of its collar.

“Then let us talk about it now,” Cullen suggested, the slight upturn of his lips pulling her attention to his delicious scar.

Delani scoffed. As if they really had any other choice. She returned her eyes to his with a blink, ignoring the smolder his lips had started inside of her. “Do you even want children?” Twisting her lips, Delani nuzzled into warmth of his cloak and gathered a measure of strength from his elderflower and oakmoss scent that lingered within the fabric. Nervously she recalled, “You’ve said in the past that you want a future with me, but what future is that? What does it look like?”

She shifted her feet at the pensive silence that followed. Cullen was peering past her head, taking in the scenic view surrounding them as he considered his words. When amber eyes met sea green the corner of his mouth curled into a small smile and he pulled her bottom lip from between her teeth with his thumb.

Holding her chin between his knuckle and thumb, Cullen locked their gazes and confessed, “I love you Delani, and I want to be with you. When this war is over and Corypheus is defeated, I want to make you my wife.” His smirk grew, his cheeks taking on a rosy tint in wake of his confession. “That is,” he stammered, tongue tied by the sincerity of his words and the uncertainty of how they would be received. “If you’ll have me of course.”

The grin that spread over her lips couldn’t be helped even if she had bothered to try. Her heart was hammering excitedly in her chest, throttling so hard against her ribcage that she could hear it in her ears. Blood warmed in her veins, burning with love, and Delani fought hard to keep from reacting as though he were proposing right that second. Because he wasn’t. He wanted the war to be over before they made such a commitment and, even if she agreed, her stomach still sunk a little bit at his words. That explanation did not answer her first question, nor did it address the predicament that they now faced.

Knowing her well enough to read her thoughts through her features, he continued, “As far as whether or not I want children,” he paused, thinking on his opinion before putting it into words. A shrug proceeded his admission of, “I’d never really thought about it before. When I first joined the Order I was fully devoted to the Templars. The thought of starting a family had been the furthest thing from my mind. Then the Ferelden Circle fell to blood mages and I—“

He shook his head, visibly banishing the memories turned nightmares that still infrequently plagued his sleep. “I was so angry during the years that followed. I didn’t think that I deserved to be happy, to find a woman who loved me and to have a future with her. I didn’t think that I deserved a family, so I pushed the desire from my mind.”

His words pained Delani, cut her so deeply that she felt the prick of tears stabbing the backs of her eyes. She grabbed his hand in both of hers and pressed a dozen kisses to his knuckles. Of everyone she knew, there were none more deserving of happiness. She hated that life had delt him such a hand so early on in his life, hated the parts she had played in stealing his happiness from him. Cullen was a good man who deserved whatever his heart desired, and she was honored to be counted among those things. The expression he now wore was reassuring, soothing the ache in her chest with a silent promise in his eyes that he no longer felt that way.

“But being with you has changed that,” said Cullen. He stared deeply into her eyes and slipped his hand from hers so that he could cup her cheek in his palm. Caressing the arch of her cheekbone, he thumbed over her vallaslin and smiled absently as he continued. “When I look into your eyes I want all of it. I want a family, children with your laughter and enchanting eyes. I want the future I thought myself so undeserving of. And I want it with you.”

Her tears did spill over then, a single drop that was immediately caught by his thumb and wiped away, originating from a place of happiness. But she hadn’t forgotten his earlier words either. “When the war is won and Corypheus is dead,” she repeated, reiterating the ideal time for his desired future to take place. His expression shifted with doubt and Delani placed a reassuring hand atop of his, squeezing it gently in understanding. “You are not ready for this, and neither am I.”

“But is anyone ever truly ready to be parents?” he argued, unwilling to let this subject end with that. “We could do this if that was what you wanted.”

Delani shook her head and stepped out from under his hand. “That is the thing, Cullen,” she stated, “I don’t know what I want.”

Dragging her nails through her hair, she thought on the emotions currently churning her insides, she weighed their options and took every detail into consideration. Thoughts of having children now lacked confidence and conviction, uncertainty twisting her gut into knots. To Delani, the fear she now felt was answer enough.

She started pacing a short line up and down the ramparts in front of him, playing with his coin turned necklace as she thought. “I know that I love you, and that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know that when the time is right, I would love nothing more than to be your bond-mate, and to be the mother of your children.” Delani stopped and stared down at the cobblestone beneath her bare feet. Quietly she carried on, “I also know that now is not that time, and that I am not ready. The very thought of bringing life into the world in the state that it is now in makes me sick to my stomach.”

Placing a hand low on her belly, Delani tried to feel differently, tried to make herself excited by the prospect that she could possibly be carrying Cullen’s child. But the feeling wouldn't come, it could not be forced. Searching Cullen’s face, she felt horrid as she confessed, “I am not ready for that yet, Cullen. Not yet, not like this.”

He nodded once in understanding before asking, “Then what are we going to do?”

The silence that followed was heavy, solemn. They agreed that they were not ready, but would Cullen agree to the solution that she had in mind? “I will speak with Vivienne,” she started, “I think that we can trust her to be discrete. Perhaps she knows of a potion or something that will…” Her sentence slowed to a stop when she noticed the sadness in Cullen’s eyes.

A single step was all it took to cut the space between them. Gripping Cullen by the arm, she stepped into his downcast gaze and forced him to look her in the eyes. Gently she investigated, “Is this what you want, Cullen?” Delani would speak with Vivienne about acquiring the potion, but whether or not she took it depended entirely on if he agreed with the decision to do so. She could not do this without him, either way.

He was quiet for a moment, peering into her eyes until his own filled with resolution. “I want us to be ready when the time comes to have a family,” he frowned, his expression accepting of the way things were, and the way they were going to be. “And now is not that time.”

With an approving nod he encouraged her to, “Speak with Madam Vivienne and let me know what she says. I have to meet with Captain Ophelia about gathering our troops and marching into the Arbor Wilds.”

Delani nodded sharply and started down the ramparts in the direction of the rookery. Before she could make it a few steps Cullen caught her by the wrist and turned her around to face him once more. Cupping her face in his hands, he whispered, “This war won’t last forever, Delani. But I will never stop loving you.” He breathed in deeply, and the words that followed were stowed within the undercurrents of his exhale. “Ma ar’lath, ma atishan.”

Her words were whispered when she returned them to him. “Ma ar’lath, vhenan’ara.”

Delani closed her eyes when he brought his lips to hers. The kiss started off gently, a reassurance that the love and respect shared between them remained unchanged. Then, as it deepened, it became a consolation, a part of them mourning the loss of a future neither of them was ready for.

When their lips parted Cullen pressed his brow to hers and simply held her for a moment. His thoughts were likely the same as hers. Creators, let this be the right decision.

With a promise to meet for the evening’s supper, they parted ways. Delani’s heart was in her stomach, sinking deeper and deeper with each step made. She knew that this was for the best, and still a part of her hated that it had to be done. Mythal forgive her for what would come next.

A few  days later…

Delani woke with a sharp pain in her gut and a wet warmth between her legs. She recognized the heavy feeling in her abdomen and the tightness in her back. She felt bloated, and sensitive, and relieved beyond description.

Afraid she might have ruined the bed, Delani threw the sheets aside in anticipation of an unsalvageable mess. Instead she found the barest hint of blood on her small clothes, having caught herself before the worst came to pass. Carefully inching off of the bed, she hurried for the wash closet to change out of her ruined small clothes.

Once she was clean, and her clothes were changed, Delani stepped back into the room. Cullen was sitting up in the bed, perched up on an elbow as he watched her climb back under the covers. His voice was still grated by sleep when he observed, “I suppose we will not be needing that after all,” with a gesture toward the small wooden box sitting atop her desk.

Within that tiny container was a vile of dark liquid. Vivienne had passed it into Delani’s possession the previous night with poignant approval in her eyes. “You are doing the right thing, darling,” she had assured her, a comforting hand on her elbow before Delani thanked her and left for her chambers.

She and Cullen had spent a good part of the night simply staring at the box and contemplating the contents within. Though they agreed that neither were quite ready for the rigors of parenthood, still they hesitated. In the end, Delani had managed to convince them both that it was best to put it off for one more day. She’d insisted that they sleep on it another night, and in the morning they would make their final decision.

The morning had come and the decision was made for them. Delani’s monthly cycle finally made a reappearance, taking from them the choice that they had been so hesitant to see through.

Delani scooted over into Cullen’s side of the bed and curled into his arms. He hugged her close as they both fell into silent thought. The air of the room was strange, light with relief and heavy with a surprising sense of loss. With her ear pressed to his chest, Delani listened to the steady beat of Cullen’s heart and fought back the sadness that came with the knowledge that she was not, and had never been, carrying Cullen’s child.

This was a good thing, she was trying to remind herself. But the thought lacked conviction.

“You know that I hate to say it,” Delani’s voice was quiet when she spoke, wanting to lighten the mood that had settled in their room. “But I did tell you that I wasn’t with child.”

True amusement reverberated in Cullen’s scoff. He hugged her to him and pressed a kiss to her head. “You hate being right as much as Cassandra hates Varric’s writing.”

Delani laughed at his words and rested her chin on his chest so that she could meet his gaze. There was a sadness in his amber eyes, mixed in with his larger look of relief. She knew the sentiment well, recognizing it in herself. The fact of the matter remained unchanged. They were not ready to have a child, not yet. The decision was hard made but they had made it together, and she was proud of how far they had come.

Softly she murmured, “I cannot wait for this war to be over.”

He swept her hair from her face and simply stared at her, a small smile hinting at the edges of his mouth, and he agreed, “Neither can I.”

Chapter Text

The trek from Skyhold to the heart of the Arbor Wilds was nearly a month long, a journey that Delani had made with her companions, the Iron Bull’s Chargers, and a squadron of Inquisition soldiers. The path through Orlais was mostly uneventful at first, but the further they traveled the more frequently they found themselves in skirmishes with the Venatori and Red Templars. These stray bands of Corypheus’s army were likely traveling south for the Wilds as well, headed for the bulk of their forces, and Delani was all too happy to thin Corypheus’s numbers little by little until she could join her own army to face him in battle. 

Sounds of distant fighting welcomed them into the thickly wooded environment, too far for their company to be of any assistance. Staying true to their course, they wound through the trees until they finally reached the Inquisition’s main encampment. Soldiers, scouts, and runners were scurrying through the camp, a hive in constant movement as messages, weapons, tools, and resources were carted from one end of the camp to the other. 

Upon their arrival Delani dismissed all of her companions but the Iron Bull and his lieutenant. Now that the Inquisitor had arrived it meant that the true battle was upon them. Corypheus’s head start had been short lived, sabotaged by Leliana’s scouts and the Dalish hunters who had agreed to help them. There was no time for rest, that would come once they had won, right now they needed to strategize their next move and then make it. 

Corypheus could not be allowed to reach that Eluvian first. They did not make it all this way only to lose to the magister now. 

Their strides were purposeful as they marched through the encampment towards the tent erected at its heart. The importance of the large cylindrical tent was marked by the two posts branded with Inquisition heraldry that stood at its entrance. There were also two soldiers stationed there, serving as gatekeepers between the war council within and any interruptions that were likely to arise outside their tent. 

Delani led Iron Bull and Krem past the tent flaps, nodding in acknowledgment of the soldiers’ salutes as they passed them. Warm lantern light brightened the inside of the tent enough for even a human to see clearly by. Leliana, Josephine, Cullen and Morrigan were all already gathered around the table, joined by three Dalish elves whose armor marked them as their clan’s Hunt Masters. The group turned at the sound of their entrance and Leliana was the first to greet them. 

“Inquisitor,” she said in welcome, amusement well hidden within the chime of her accented voice. “How lovely of you to join us.”

Delani allowed a small smile to pull the corner of her mouth as she approached the war table. Her eyes immediately found Cullen and they shared a measured look, relief in both of their eyes in seeing each other again. Weeks they had gone without one another, traveling in different companies so that he could stay with his men and she could remain with hers. 

“I trust you saved some fun for me,” said Delani as she moved to stand at the table’s head. Delani looked over the detailed map of the Arbor Wilds, noting place markers showing where soldiers were already fighting, and where Corypheus’s soldiers were stationed. 

When Delani’s attention rose to her advisors Josephine led in with the introductions. “Inquisitor Lavellan, allow me to present the Hunt Masters of the clans helping us against Corypheus.” There were three of them there, two men and a woman, all regarding Delani with guarded curiosity. As Josephine introduced them, one by one, they respectfully bowed their heads. The two men were, Aeson of clan Zhoron and Kellam of clan Eth’Mahvir, and the female Hunt Master was introduced as Naevys of clan Manahalam. 

Delani greeted them with a bow of her head, and a respectful, “Ma serannas, lethallen, na mi’en vhallast,” thanking them for their help in the battles already fought, and the ones still to come.

“El solas dar tuatha na’vhen,” Naevys answered on their behalf, giving voice to their pride in working with the Inquisition; the two males positioned on either side of her standing in stoic agreement.

With the pleasantries out of the way, she refocused on her advisors and nodded for them to brief her on the situation. Cullen took charge of the briefing with all of the authority of his rank, he commanded the room’s attention as he explained their defenses and the positions of deployed platoons of men. 

He pointed to the section of the map just below where the elven temple was marked. “The bulk of Corypheus’s army is here, spread out in search of an entrance to the temple.” Looking up toward the Spy Master and the elven hunters at her side, he commented, “With the help of Sister Nightingale’s spies, and our elven friends, we have been able to spread the enemy forces thin.”

“Huntress Naevys’s hunters burned down Corypheus’s food stores,” Leliana revealed with pride in her eyes. She glanced over at the elven woman and gave her a commending nod when Naevys met her gaze. “Nearly a quarter of his army was moved to defend their remaining stores, and were easily picked off by my scouts in the process.”

Josephine pointed Delani’s attention down at the map again. “Empress Celene’s Chevaliers have joined the Inquisition’s ranks, and our allies have sent men to bolster our numbers. With the addition of the Grey Wardens and the Templars, we nearly double Corypheus’s army.”

All good news, but the war was far from won. Refocusing on Cullen, Delani asked, “Has his dragon been spotted?”

A curt nod was his answer. “It has been dividing our troops from fully engaging Corypheus’s army.” Cullen gestured to where the Inquisition’s forces marker stood opposed to the marker representing Corypheus’s army. “We’ve been unable to get an adequate foothold to truly slow his invasion of the elven temple.”

From the far end of the table, Leliana assured Delani that, “The Dalish hunters have been using guerrilla tactics to keep his forces from progressing. And, so far, my scouts have been able to intercept any small groups disbanding from his camp.”

Toying with her coin necklace, Delani absently fiddled with the worn silver as she surveyed the map and considered all of the pieces at play. Her gaze flicked up from the map strewn surface and she scanned over the Hunt Masters standing on the other side of the war table. Though conflict was not anything new to the Dalish people, there were some clans that did not take up their blades in battle. Humans rarely ventured this far south, which meant that these clans were likely ones of the few that didn’t engage in combat frequently. This was probably a novel and disturbing experience for them, and Delani wanted to know how they were holding up.

Dropping the coin from between her fingers, Delani asked the three Hunt Masters, “How are your hunters faring?”

Kellem was the one who answered her, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his chin raised in pride. “They are eager to send these monsters from our home, lethallan. Our blades are sharp and our arrows true, we will stand with the Inquisition until the battle is won.”

She accepted his report with a nod before moving her attention onto Naevys. The woman’s spine straightened to support Delani’s gaze, standing at attention as the Inquisitor addressed her. “Have you suffered many casualties,” she investigated. She knew that this was war, and that meant that people were going to die, but the thought of clans losing their hunters, their only defense against outside threats, made Delani wary of the sacrifice she was asking them to make. 

“A few,” Aeson confirmed. Noting the sympathy and regret that was likely showing in Delani’s eyes, he assured her, “But they fought valiantly and died with honor. Their sacrifices will be remembered and celebrated once we have sent Corypheus’s men from our Wilds.”

Delani bowed her head and said a respectful, “Falon’din ghilana ish’ala in’an era’adahlen,’ before asking about their clans. After an assurance that their clans had been moved a safe distance from the fighting and that, thanks to the Commander, they had a constant inflow of resources and food, none of their clans were suffering from the deployment of their hunters. The clans’ safety was not an issue that Delani needed to worry about at present, and it was only with that reassurance that Delani allowed their discussion to go back to the battle at hand. 

Refocusing on the whole of the group, Delani returned their attention to the map covered table. She pointed at the marker identifying Corypheus’s army, and said, “Lady Montiliyet says that our forces nearly double Corypheus’s, a fact that has no influence if his dragon continues to stop our advances.”

Her gaze landed on the mountain of a qunari, and Delani stated, “That is why you’re here.” With a quirk of an eyebrow she wondered, “Are you and your Chargers up for being a distraction?”

A wicked expression eased onto the Iron Bull’s features, the grin on his lips pulled with excitement and the promise of battle. Elbowing his lieutenant, Bull replied with a chuckled, “You know how much I love a good dragon fight, Boss.”

Yes, Delani knew very well how much the Iron Bull loved a good dragon fight. That was why Delani felt the need to remind him, “I just need your men to distract it, Bull. Don’t take any unnecessary risks trying to kill it, especially since we failed to that effect once before.”

Krem nodded curtly, understanding their orders and guarding his enthusiasm better than his Commander. “We’ll be careful, Lady Inquisitor.”

Good. With that out of the way they could move on with the rest of their plan. “Commander,” Delani met his gaze and held it. She was the Inquisitor and he was her general. Within this tent they were the authorities of the Inquisition, and that meant that she needed to ignore how much she had missed him during their separation. They would have time later, for now there was only war.

“With the Chargers distracting Corypheus’s dragon our forces should be better able to engage his army.” She dragged a finger through the markers toward the elven temple. “I need a contingency of men to punch a hole through Corypheus’s army and clear a path toward the temple.”

Cullen nodded sharply in reply. “I will lead the march myself, Inquisitor.”

Her stomach turned with his words. He had fought alongside his men many times before, against demons at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, in Haven, and again at Adamant. He was a warrior deserving of every accolade given to him. Delani had complete faith in his ability as a warrior, and had seen the result of his training first hand. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Cullen would do just fine leading such a march. And still she felt nervous at the thought of him going into battle. 

Swallowing her nerves before they could find their way onto her expression, Delani returned Cullen’s nod. She averted her gaze onto Leliana and instructed her to, “Have your spies watch Corypheus and Calpernia for movement. I want to know the second that they break away from their forces for the temple.”

“As you say, Inquisitor,” Leliana replied with a bow, her wrist held behind her back as she accepted her orders. 

With a final look at the war table, and the moved markers detailing their plans, Delani scanned over everyone inside of the tent. They were veterans, all of them, though some were new to this war, none were new to battle. The Inquisition’s fight against Corypheus could not last forever, and now they pushed to end it all the sooner. Delani was proud of them, and eager to end this.

“Inform your men of their orders,” she said to the leaders that filled the tent. “You have an hour.”

They dispersed at her dismissal and headed their separate ways so that they could prepare themselves and their men for battle. Delani left the war tent for the one across the way, the tent that had been erected for her. Nerves filled her belly as she strode the short distance. 

This was a battle like any other, a lie she could not bring herself to believe no matter how hard she tried. Today was to be the pinnacle of change, the fate of Thedas would be decided on how the tides of war pulled. It was a position she had found herself in a thousand times before, and each time her gut would get so tied up in knots that she felt like she was going to be sick. 

Pushing aside the tent flaps, she stepped into the coolness captured within the hide and cloth material. There was a cot large enough for two on the raised pallet, the bedding consisting of fine blankets and layers of fur. Beside the cot was a desk, with reports already stacked high on its surface. On the other side of the tent was a chest, her weapons of choice, grenades, potions, all of the things she liked to carry with her into battle, they were all likely to be found within. 

A mannequin was garnished with her armor, the straps and buckles left undone so that she could remove the pieces easily. The mannequin beside hers also glittered with the glint of polished volcanic aurum, a warriors armor that she’d had commissioned for Cullen to celebrate her defeating the dragon in the Hissing Wastes. 

Though she did not plan to spend long in this tent, it was nice to have a place of her own to gather her thoughts and prepare for the night to come. 

Delani rolled her shoulders and rubbed her neck as she strode over to the chest. She started to remove her traveling armor, absently staring at the pieces that would replace the ones now coming off her person. A series of deep breaths helped to clear her mind of the pointless clutter that filled it. It was a pre-battle ritual that had been adapted from a pre-hunt practice which she’d learned from her father. Even if he had never anticipated the path that life would chart for her, Elion Lavellan had done his best to prepare her for whatever would come. 

A long sigh breezed through her nose when she’d removed all of her armor, leaving her dressed in only her tunic and tights. She rolled her shoulders again, welcoming the freedom of the movement, before stretching away the tension that had gathered in the muscles in her back. Taking a step toward the mannequin wearing her battle armor, Delani’s ears twitched at the sound of someone’s even strides closing in on her tent. She turned the same moment that Cullen entered the tent’s shade.

A silent moment passed between them and her heart started to beat a little bit harder in her chest. Creators, these last few weeks without him had not been easy after all the time they had recently spent at each other’s side. 

~*~

Maker she was beautiful. Cullen was struck silent by the sight of her. She was a regal creature, her features sharpened by the tent’s poor lighting, her eyes dark under the shadow of pre-battle preparation. He had seen her wear that look before, many times before. The first time he had seen it, it had been the night that Corypheus attacked Haven. He had mistaken the hard detachment in her eyes as semi-fatalistic determination. With time, and having gotten to know Delani so well, he was able to now recognize it as acceptance. 

Delani’s fate and the outcome of the awaiting battle were unknowns, and she accepted it as a fact that she could not change. Whatever came next she was ready to play her part. It was one of the many traits that Cullen deeply admired about her. 

He stepped onto the raised palate with the question, “How were your travels?” 

Delani’s company had been delayed by a few days. Though that was far from unusual, Cullen had worried regardless. He had left Skyhold feeling oddly protective of her, their almost pregnancy had stirred foreign feelings inside of him. The experience had left Cullen feeling as though there was something missing from his life, and the extended separation from Delani had only served to heighten that feeling. 

“Mostly uneventful,” she supplied, turning to face him fully. When he was standing in front of her, her hands traveled up his chest and her fingers interlocked behind his neck. His hands settled on her hips and he pulled her close so that he could feel her warmth radiate through his clothes. 

Her shoulders bounced with a shrug as she explained, “We ran into a few Venatori stragglers and closed some rifts, nothing unusual or particularly exciting.”

Smiling down at the tiny elf, Cullen suggested, “Try not to sound so disappointed, ma atishan.” When her expression widened to wordlessly argue with him, a chuckle rumbled from him and he shook his head. “I am confident that you’ll be satisfied with the level of excitement our next battle promises to offer.”

Full lips pursing in mock-doubt, she muttered a sultry, “We’ll see, Commander.”

A moment passed in silence between them and they merely stared at one another. Cullen took in her features, marveled at how small she was, how good she smelled, how warm she was against him. The smile waned from his lips as his stomach dropped a bit. 

He brushed away the lock of hair that fell in front of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear as he absently confessed, “I think about the part you will play in the battle to come and a pit forms in my gut.” Moving his gaze back onto hers, he peered deeply into her sea green eyes and fought against a wave of nerves that rolled in his stomach. “I know that it’s silly, but I just have this feeling—“

“I know,” she cut in before he could try to rationalize the ominous shadow that was now casted over them. Auburn eyebrows furrowed with her frown, and Delani searched his features as she admitted, “I feel it too.”

It should have comforted him, her confession, but it didn’t. Despite her pre-battle calm, her resolve to do what needed to be done, Delani was worried. It felt that everything was dependent of this battle. Whoever won the day won the war, and if it wasn’t the Inquisition then Thedas was in ruin. If Delani did not reach the Eluvian before Corypheus all would be lost. The pressure was insurmountable. Yet it wasn’t the possibility of not reaching then Eluvian in time that made him feel sick with nerves. It was the possibility of losing Delani in the attempt. 

The last time that she had faced the darkspawn magister she had barely escaped with her life. Cullen had made a promise to her in the days following her being made Inquisitor, and that there was a chance that he would not be able to keep it filled Cullen to the brim with dread. 

Gaze still locked with hers, he whispered, “Ma atishan, promise me that you’ll be careful today,” and tightened his grip on her hips. “Promise me.”

Delani pulled his face down to hers and stole a kiss from his lips. She threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and moaned quietly as she drank from him. When their lips parted he pressed his forehead to hers and, softly, she replied, “I will if you do the same.”

Holding onto her tightly, Cullen vowed, “When you have led us to yet another victory, I will be there to celebrate at your side.”

The wrinkle between her pinched eyebrows smoothed over as her expression softened. She held his gaze as her hands traveled from his neck, down his arms, to his hands where she then laced their fingers together. Sea green eyes locked with his amber and she stared up at him as she promised, “Nothing will keep me from you, vhenan’ara.” She squeezed his fingers and her gaze filled with the warmth of her love. “I will always find my way back to you. Always.”

His heart lurched with her words, flipping in his chest. The tightness in his stomach did not ease, but her words were a comfort even so. Delani’s fingers slipped from his and she traced up the sides of his hands to his wrists where she started to loosen the buckles securing his bracers to his forearms; her gaze falling to watch her task. He stood there a moment, confused as he watched her work, them both standing in silence as Delani removed his bracers before pulling off his gloves with a sensual slowness and moving onto his pauldrons; which were swiftly discarded as well. 

Cullen allowed himself to be undressed by her, his clothing coming undone piece by piece as she wordlessly worked him down to his undershirt and breeches. His heartbeat picked up with each item of armor and clothing that came off of his person, recognizing the fire and promises in Delani’s eyes when she peered up at him through thick eyelashes. 

Blood burned in his veins, growing hotter and hotter as anticipation swelled in his gut and in his cock. They had less than an hour before the Inquisition went to battle, but this moment felt a thousand times more important. This moment was their last chance to demonstrate how much they loved and needed each other before they left the sanctuary of their tent for the reality of war. 

Warm fingers slid under the hem of his undershirt and traced the skin of his abdominals, up towards his chest, his shirt riding up with her exploring digits. Once the shirt was able to travel no higher, Cullen helped Delani remove it from him and let it fall from his grasp onto the palate they stood on. She looked at him, admiring his physique with hunger in her sea green eyes, and his own hunger for her felt increasingly insatiable. 

She kissed his chest and, short as she was, her mouth aligned almost perfectly with his nipple. Her breath was hot on his skin, her tongue like liquid fire as she laved at the puckered flesh. She drew intricate designs before drawing his nipple between her lips. Cullen hissed a sharp inhale when she sucked on him hard. He gripped her by the back of her neck, conflicted between pressing her more firmly to him or pulling her away. After a moment the decision was made for him. 

Delani released his nipple from the suction of her mouth and peered up at Cullen. The plush of her lips was already swollen, red from the friction of her skin against his. Without breaking his gaze she placed her hand square on his chest and started pushing him backwards. Cullen allowed her to maneuver him, an eyebrow quirked in question his only reply. 

A few backwards steps and the backs of his knees were met by the seat of the desk chair. With a final shove from Delani, Cullen fell onto the cushion and stared up at the elven woman standing before him. Shoulders back, chin held high, green eyes dilated with a desire he could feel in every nerve in his body, she was a thing of beauty, a sight without equal. Delani was fire incarnate, the inferno inside her clearly visible in her eyes, and Cullen was drawn to those flames by an instinct he had no intention of fighting. 

“Remember this moment, Cullen,” she whispered, pulling her tunic up over her head and dropping it amidst the pile of his own clothing. Next to come off were her tights, hooking her thumbs under the waistband of the fabric she tugged them down and wriggled them off; her eyes locked with his as her hips swayed in a mouthwatering side to side. 

Stepping out of her bottoms, Delani closed the short distance between them and placed her hands on his shoulders. Her gaze remained locked with his and she continued, “Remember the feeling of my skin against yours.” The fire of her touch trailed down his chest as she sunk to her knees between his legs and his cock twitched painfully against his breeches in anticipation of her attention. 

Through the thick fans of her pitch black lashes, she peered up at him while her fingers undid the laces of his bottoms. “And let the memory bring you back to me when this battle is over,” her hushed words were a caress, the rasp of her honeyed voice gently stroking his emotions as she placed a kiss on his lower stomach, just above the waist of his trousers. 

Laces undone, Delani started to tug at his bottoms and Cullen lifted himself slightly off of the chair to help her get the fabric down his legs. Released from the constraints of his trousers, his erection sprang free, eager for her touch and the decadence of her attention. 

Her fingers were warm when they wrapped around the base of his cock. A moan eased out of Cullen and he tilted his head back as she stroked him slowly, bringing his tip to her lips and kissing his crown. Cullen stared back down at her, observing her through his hooded gaze. 

Kneeling between his legs, Delani’s elbows were perched on his thighs, her head was tilted as she dragged her tongue along the underside of his member. Her mouth and hands were working in unison, her every ministration synchronized, until her attention moved to his sack. With another groan, Cullen threaded his fingers through the silk of Delani’s auburn hair and combed it out of his line of sight so that he could watch her work without obstruction. 

She sucked his balls into her mouth, her hand pumping him at a pace she knew would drive him mad. In his chest, his heart beat with an urgency he could feel in every thread of his being. It was an all consuming need to take and claim, to have what was his and give what was hers until they could no longer be recognized as two separate entities. 

Cullen couldn’t help the buck of his hips as she pumped him. Her grip was tight on his cock, twisting with each rise and fall. The blessed friction had a potency that was blinding in its vice. Delani hummed against his manhood, the corners of her mouth curling in delight at his jerky response to the vibration. Her tongue was fire as she twirled it over his head, teasing his tip before plunging the entirety of his painfully engorged member into the depths of her throat. 

For half a dozen strokes she bobbed on his cock, one hand fondling his sack as the other gripped him at the base and followed the wet trail her mouth left behind. When she pulled her mouth from his erection her hands continued to work. Delani’s sea green eyes burned with a fire so hot it could reduce all of Thedas to ash. Held prisoner to her gaze, Cullen felt the flames of his desire burn through his pores. He needed to be inside of her like he needed air in his lungs. 

With eyes so dilated the greens of her irises were thin rings, Delani stared up at Cullen and licked her lips. “When you lead our army into battle today I want you to remember this moment.” She licked his cock again, her hands still working, his attention caught between the words coming from her love swollen lips and the expertise of her touch. “Think of me between your legs and your cock in my mouth, and remember what it is you are fighting for.”

Unable to survive a second longer without feeling the fire of her sheath clinging to his cock, Cullen groaned, “Delani,” begging to fill her and sate a need he knew was driving them both mad. 

Mercilessly releasing his member from her hold, Delani pushed herself back onto her feet and supported her weight on his thighs as she leaned in for a kiss. Cullen initial complaining whimper quickly turned into a needy growl when she pressed her lips to his. He fisted his fingers in her hair and drank from her lips like they were the last drops of water in all of Thedas. 

Heat grew rapidly between them, a sheen of sweat already covering his brow and dusting the cleave of her breasts. Consumed by the kiss, Cullen rumbled in satisfaction when Delani’s hand returned to his cock. As she stroked him he tugged on the clasp of her breast band and yanked the constricting fabric from her body. Breasts now free to him, he felt their weight in both his hands and pinched her nipples between his fingers. 

Delani groaned into his mouth, her grip on his hardness tightening in response to his attention to her sensitive peaks. She bit his lip and tugged on the flesh, her hand falling from his member so that she could remove the last item of clothing keeping her from him. Kicking her small clothes aside, Delani climbed onto his lap and hovered just over his erection. 

She pulled away from his mouth and stared down at Cullen with a look of incomparable need on her features. Lips parted, Cullen was breathing hard, his every inhale a gust of wind on the wildfire burning through his veins. His hands roved up her thighs and settled on her hips, pressing his thumbs against the warmth of her skin, he placed his lips on her collarbone and nipped at her tenderly. 

With a hand on the base of his cock, Delani guided him to her entrance and soaked his tip on her dew covered petals before pressing the firmest part of him to the most achy part of her. Holding onto his shoulders, Delani lowered herself down his length and they moaned in unison in revelry of each other. His grip on her hips tightened as he struggled to draw breath. Maker, she felt so good.

Once her core had his entire length held prisoner to her snug embrace, Delani finally started to move. Gooseflesh broke out over his skin as her hands roved from his shoulders, up and around his neck, until her fingers were threaded through the soft blond hair at the base of his skull. She pressed her forehead to his, their gazes locked, and ground against his cock, her breasts bouncing with every roll of her hips. 

Trailing his hands up her sides he stopped just short of her breasts and watched her move with purpose, entranced by the roll of her body, enraptured by her beauty. Cullen left a tail of kisses and nips from her collar down to her tits. Cupping the fullness of her breasts in his hands he parted his lips and took a distended peak into his mouth. A loud moan burst out of Delani as he sucked on her. His tongue flicked and lapped at her before he closed his mouth on the hardness of her pointed nipple. 

She threw her head back, tugging at his hair, moving with more urgency on top of him. Cullen growled against her bosom, the molten heat of her core surrounding him was disorienting. Her fiery up and down was blinding, their combined heat pulling sweat from him and filling the tent with the thick scent of their lovemaking.

“Vhenan’ara,” she cried out, her voice pained by a needy ache as she continued to ride him with a desperation he knew well. 

Releasing her breasts from his grasp, Cullen lowered his hands to grip the firm roundness of her backside. He gaped at her, his thoughts muddied by her heat, by the smell of her in his nose, the taste of her skin, lightly doused with sweat, on his tongue. Delani was an aphrodisiac, her every feature designed to undo him. Even now Cullen struggled to not unload before her. The snug fit of her walls around him was a seduction he couldn’t fight for much longer. 

Delani’s auburn eyebrows were bent, the ache of her building orgasm twisting her features with impatient excitement. His voice was grated when he growled, “Ma lathnehn, ma atishan?” He slapped the plump flesh of her rear-end and shifted his grip to her rolling hips again. With one hand on her hip, the other wandered to where her body met his and Cullen quickly found her swollen nub. 

Her rhythm faltered under his attention, and Cullen’s hand on her hip kept her movements steady on his cock. Dilated sea green eyes sharpened a bit, her expression tightening with possessiveness. Fingers still curled in his hair, Delani pulled his head back and held his jaw in her hand, forcing him to maintain her gaze as she bounced on his manhood at an mind numbing pace. 

Peering down at him, Delani’s top lip curled back into a snarl and she demanded, “Dirthem esahnas se panathe sul.”

His chest ached at the neediness of her tone, his desire to fill her was a living thing. It took a moment for his fissuring mind to work out her words. Delani always reverted to Elvish when the intensity of their passion burned away her inhibitions. A fact he took pride in, he had stolen her ability to use the common tongue. 

Cullen pressed his thumb down hard on her cliterous, rubbing her in tight circles, keeping in time with her gyrating hips. Gruffly he answered, “Nar,” his own growl rumbling between them when Delani pulled his head farther back. 

“Dirthem se garaveth elas’em.” Delani’s control was admiral. He could feel the walls of her canal tightening around him, her impending orgasm just a few strokes away, but she held strong. She had given him an order, and she would not find release until he had told her what she wanted to hear, what she needed to hear, what they both needed so badly to believe.

Cullen felt his balls tighten in warning. The slick heat of her sheath had him unraveling, coming apart at the seams. He was quickly climbing toward climax and could barely hear his voice over the blaring drum of his pounding heartbeat bashing in his ears. 

“Bell’ana,” he rasped and Delani crushed her mouth to his. 

The moment his lips parted their tongues met in a passionate dance. Cullen groaned at her taste, the woman riding him was drowning his senses with all that she was. Her smell was an ambrosia of sex and sweat, the scent was divine. The taste of her tongue against his was decadent, addictive, borderline sinful. But it was the friction of her skin against his that sent shivers coursing through him and electricity sparking through his bloodstream. The feeling of her pelvis rubbing against him, her molten heat enveloping him with a suffocating grip, of her breasts on his chest and her lips against his; it was the feeling of Delani conquering him, claiming him, branding him as hers that did him in. 

She broke the kiss and pulled slightly away. Her mouth hung open as she breathed jagged breaths, her eyes hooded, and brows pinched with concentration. When Cullen felt her tighten around his cock, her walls closing in as she finally met euphoria, his grip tightened on her hip and he ground out her name through clenched teeth.

“Delani,” he groaned the same time she cried, “Cullen!” and he felt the first wave of his orgasm crash over him the exact instant she was swept up by her own. She squeezed him like a vice, her core constricting him  The blistering heat that had been gathering at the base of his spine left him in spurts, his throbbing cock aching at the intensity of his pleasure ejaculating through him and into her. 

Delani collapsed in his arms, spent as she hugged his neck and nuzzled him close. He wrapped his arms around her and held her to him for a moment. Stroking the silken strands of her auburn hair, he marveled not for the first time at how tiny she was and how perfectly she fit in his embrace. A larger force, be it the Maker or her Creators, had made them in perfect balance. They were designed for each other by the trials of life and their own determination to be everything that the other needed. 

They both needed a minute to catch their breaths, but once the minute had met its end Delani stood from his lap on shaky legs. With an outstretched hand she offered to help him from the chair, and Cullen accepted her offer with a smirk on his lips. Standing, he pulled her into his arms and flush against his chest before stealing another kiss. 

Dazed by his affections her eyes remained closed when he pulled away from her, and Delani leaned in a bit as if drawn to him by a magnetic force. A slow smile crawled over her stolen lips, and her green eyes flashed with contentment when she finally opened them. Planting a hand on his chest she pushed off of him and propelled herself back into focus. 

“We should probably prepare for battle,” suggested Delani with a laugh in her eyes.

The corner of his mouth quirked and Cullen nodded in reluctant agreement. “Right,” he conceded. “First the battle, then the war.”

Picking out a fresh pair of small clothes from his chest, Delani tossed it at him with the advice, “Let’s focus on the battle at hand.” She rummaged the chest for her own underclothes and started to get dressed when she found them. Securing her breast band in place, she completed, “One fight at a time, Cullen. That is how we have been winning this war.”

He smiled at her but gave no further response before stepping into his trousers and securing them at his hips. When Cullen turned it was in time to put his hand up to catch the shirt she had thrown in his direction. His gratitude was muffled by the fabric as he pulled it over his head. 

After tucking the hem of his shirt into the waist of his trousers, he swiped her tunic off of the palate and handed it to Delani. 

They continued to move like that in the few minutes they had left to prepare. Their every step synchronized to anticipate the other’s needs. They worked their way through the tent, Delani ducking under his arms, or spinning around him to get to her chest, and Cullen carefully reaching over and around her to grab what he needed. There was a constant exchange of affection between them as they went, kisses and touches stolen at every opportune moment. 

Once every piece of armor was in place and their weapons were secured and ready, they stood before each other to do a final once-over. She made sure the buckles of his armor were secure, and he checked all the grenades on her belt. There were no kinks in her armor, and there were no openings in his. They were ready for what came next. Or at least as ready as they could be. 

Both of their attention was drawn to the tent’s entrance as his second in command stepped partially into the tent. Captain Ophelia bowed her head in acknowledgment of Delani before averting her gaze onto him. “The Chargers have the dragon’s attention, but Maker knows for how long. Our troops are ready, we need to move now.”

“On my order, Captain,” he replied and Ophelia saluted in acknowledgment of his command to go join their men. 

When Cullen turned to face Delani once more she passed him his lion helm and the instructions, “Come back to me, vhenan’ara.”

“Always,” he promised, accepting the helmet before leaning down to press a tender kiss to her cheek. With a backwards step he beseeched her to be careful before reminding her, “I love you, Delani.”

“And I love you,” Delani returned before shooing him from their tent. “Now go, Commander. First the battle, then the war, remember?”

He smiled softly, the curl of his lips falling with each backwards step until he finally turned for the exit and left the shade of the tent behind. A deep inhale brought the sharp earthy scents of the Arbor Wilds into his lungs, and the clarity of purpose to do what needed to be done before he could return to the woman he loved. 

First the battle, then the war. 

Chapter Text

Sweat dripped from his brow, the heat of battle burning in his chest and through his armor. Determination was fire in his blood, the thud of his steady beating heart a war song in his ears as another enemy met his end. Cullen lifted his blade and parried, ducked, lunged. The sound of splitting armor, slicing flesh, the gurgle of steel burying into guts and gore was followed by a cry of pain. Another one dead and three more moved in to take his place. 

He dragged in a leveling breath, a half second's reprieve, it was all the time he could spare to take in his combatants. Closing in on him were two Red Templars so far in their corruption that shards of lyrium secured armor to skin, and a Red Templar knight. Maddened as they were by blighted lyrium did not make them lesser foes, if anything it made them all the more deadly. 

Three to one. He’d survived worse odds a thousand times over. Corypheus’s footmen weren’t going to be his undoing. Not today, not ever.

They attacked as one, a unison of swinging blades and well placed feet. The seconds slowed as Cullen reacted. His backwards leap was followed by a raised shield and lifted sword, catching the strikes of the two Red Templars before he shoved them away and kicked the Templar Knight square in the chest. 

Quickly they recovered from their backwards stumble, though Cullen was quicker. The Templar to his left was the slowest to recoup, his sword held loose in his hand as he gathered himself again. Cullen swung his shield hard, knocking against the Templar’s helmet with enough force to send it flying. Fast as a viper, Cullen gripped the corrupted Templar by the breastplate and pulled him into Cullen’s ready sword. 

Shoving the Red Templar off of his blade, Cullen turned in time to block the downward strike of the Templar knight. He kept his shield between them, brunting another attack as he located the other Red Templar trying to flank him. Now that he knew where his enemies were, Cullen devised a plan of attack in his mind. The second that the Templar Knight raised his blade to strike again, Cullen put his plan to action. 

He lifted his shield to catch the blow before turning a half-step to the right, just in time to dodge the Red Templar’s falling sweep. A loud ring sang into the harmonics of battle when Cullen’s blade caught the Red Templar’s and dragged across the steel. He pushed the Templar back, a mist of crimson spurting from his back as Cullen’s sword slashed through armor and chainmail, tearing skin and muscle to ribbons in his wake.

The Red Templar fell to the ground and remained grounded, a plunge of Cullen’s sword into the Templar’s spine made sure of that. He pulled his blade free, turned, and pivoted again when the Knight swung at him, attempting to press an advantage over Cullen’s divided attention; an advantage that had never existed to begin with. 

Cullen held his ground when the Knight charged him. With his shoulder to his shield, he held up the barrier between them and shoved the Templar Knight off. The Knight lunged at him and Cullen side stepped his strike, retaliating with a swing that was parried in the nick of time. Their blades sang as the metals met. A continual ring, clang, shing chimed in deadly crescendo as Cullen pushed his foe back with each blow. 

With each step gained the more desperate the Knight fought against him. Cullen kept pressing him, allowing no reprieve. The only options for the Knight were to block and fall back. Soon he could do neither.

Focus schooled solely on Cullen, the Knight lost track of his footing, of his surroundings, and the layout of the battlefield that would soon be his grave. His heel caught on the body of a corrupted Templar and the Knight fell back, losing his grip on his weapon with his landing. 

Not giving his opponent time to realize what had happened, Cullen punched his shield into the Knight’s face. The collision titled his head back, exposing his neck, just as Cullen intended. His movements were sharp and fast as he lunged, stabbing the tip of his sword into the hollow of the Knight’s neck, and plunging deep into his chest. 

Cullen yanked his sword free and the Knight fell onto his back. Lifeless eyes peered unseeingly into the thick tree canopy. Three more dead, soon another nine would take their place. Corypheus’s army was large, but the Inquisition’s was larger. 

Let them come. The more men who fell to Cullen’s blade meant less opposition for Delani to face. Her objective was reaching the Eluvian before Corypheus. His objective was clearing a path for her. Cullen would not fail. 

He looked up and examined the battlefield. Inquisition soldiers were holding formation as Red Templars and Venatori stood between them and their objective. They were making one last push toward the temple’s entrance and there was still quite a bit of ground to cover. 

“Commander!”

His attention was yanked to the Inquisition soldier running his way. Cullen hurried to meet the woman half way. After a nod from him she panted out a field report, the frantic speed of her message underlying its urgency. 

“Our scouts have spotted Corypheus and Calpernia closing in on the temple.” Through a series of breathless inhales she explained, “We haven’t much time if we are to slow their advance.”

Cullen clapped the soldier on the shoulder and thanked her for the report before dismissing her to rejoin the fight. Shouting for his men to form up behind him, he pushed the advance forward. A path needed to be cleared to the temple, Delani would handle the rest.

He and his men continued down the freshly beaten path. They cut through Venatori and Red Templars as they cut through the underbrush. The clatter of swords and the cries of warriors was a continuous march song as the Inquisition closed in on the temple’s entrance. 

Cutting down a Red Templar, Cullen was shoved forward by a powerful blast of energy. he turned to see a Venatori mage standing some distance away. The shadow of his hood covered the top half of the mage’s face, leaving only the mutter of his lips visible to Cullen. The mage was preparing a spell and Cullen adjusted the grip of his sword as he paced the distance between them. 

As he neared the Venatori it became obvious that he wouldn’t reach the mage before his spell was cast. Squaring his stance, Cullen lifted his shield and centered his weight. He braced himself for the mage’s attack and ducked under his slightly angled shield when a ball of fire gathered in front of the mage’s hand, the inferno was then viciously propelled at Cullen. 

The loud roar of lapping flames was deafening. A sweat broke out along his brow from the heat of the attack and the strain of his muscles as he fought to keep his footing. The moment the pressure relented Cullen peeked out from behind his shield and started for the mage again. Keeping his shield as a wall between them, he readied his blade to end the Venatori, but his opponent was struck down before Cullen’s sword made piercing contact with flesh and bone. 

An arrow protruded from the Venatori’s chest soon to be followed by another, and a third was buried deep within the mage’s eye. When his opponent fell to the ground in a heap Cullen turned to try and locate the source of the arrows. 

Words of gratitude died in his mouth when he found an arrow aimed at him. With barely enough time to lean out of the projectile’s path, he quickly realized that the elven archer who’d just helped him was not an alley. 

His armor was finer than Cullen had seen the Dalish wear. It was polished and glimmered in an ethereal fashion that was reminiscent of an era found only in story books. It was clear that he wasn’t Dalish. What was less obvious as why he was fighting against the Inquisition. 

Another arrow was shot at Cullen and skidded off of the curve of his shield. Though he closed the distance between them, he was reluctant to engage the strange elf in battle. Shouting so that he’d be heard over the din of war, he said as much to the archer. “Ar din’nuvinen tu’abelas!”

“Brithemah nar tu’din,” the archer replied, making it clear that he would not back down until either he or Cullen was dead. 

Little as he wanted to hurt the elf, Cullen wanted to die even less. He’d tried to reason with the archer. Now all he could do was defend himself and hope that Delani would understand. 

Cullen counted the steps between them. As long as the elf was at a distance he had the advantage. In the time it took for the unfamiliar elf to knock an arrow and pull back his bow string, Cullen was already moving to close in on him. It was less than half a second, barely enough time for Cullen to raise his shield to catch the projectile and press forward, before the archer had another arrow ready to set loose.

Brows furrowed in concentration, the archer released the bowstring and sent the arrow flying. His opponent’s eyes sharpened when Cullen leaned out of the arrow’s path before lunging forward with his blade drawn. Now that they were close it would be more difficult for the elf to use his long-bow, though not entirely impossible.

The archer side stepped the point of Cullen’s sword and half turned before swinging his bow as though it were a pole-arm. Using his shield to brunt the attack, Cullen pushed away the bow and leveled his shoulder with the elf’s sternum. Faster than the archer could retaliate, Cullen tackled the elf off of his feet and pushed him onto the ground.

With all of his weight behind the attack, Cullen smashed his heel down on the archer’s wrist when he reached for his bow. A cry shouted from the elf, almost loud enough to mask the sound his bones being crushed underfoot. Before his opponent could gather himself again Cullen readjusted his grip on his sword’s handle and brought it straight down. Steel tore through metal and leather, chainmail and flesh, until it pierced the elf’s heart and cut all the way through to the earth beneath him.

Blood spattered from the archer’s mouth, his eyes wide as each of his heartbeats brought him closer and closer to death. It was only when Cullen saw the life fade from his eyes that he pulled his blade free. His heart was in his stomach as he briefly took in the sight of the elf’s blank heavenward stare. Elasa’tu sildeara atisha din'an, he repeated the respectful words Delani had taught him before the sound of laughter retrieved his attention.

Normally such a sound would be strange to hear on the battlefield, but there were few who enjoyed a well matched fight more than the Herald of Andraste. She and her team descended into the ravine in search of more combatants. A quick scan of the area proved that there was no shortage of people to fight and enemies to kill.

Cullen reentered the fight with renewed vigor. Though an entire ravine separated him from Delani there was nothing that could truly stand between them, and anyone who tried would be acquainted with the pointy end of his sword.

Delani’s party wasn’t the only one to descend upon the ravine. Corypheus’s forces had Cullen’s men outmatched two to one. He joined the fray with a swing of his blade, cutting down a Venatori mage just as he rematerialized away from the fight he’d just fled from. His next opponent saw him coming.

The Red Templar caught Cullen’s attention by dragging his thumb across his neck before pointing at Cullen. Corrupted as he was by the blighted Lyrium, the templar’s eyes burned red under the shadow of his helm. Though he couldn’t hear it, when the Red Templar’s shoulders bounced with his laugh the menace behind it sent a chill down Cullen’s spine. Killing him would be a mercy.

When the Red Templar started to charge at him, Cullen separated his feet, bent his knees, and braced himself for the coming collision. His shield stood as a protective wall between them, steady and solid when the Templar crashed into its metal surface. Cullen skid back only half a foot before his weight countered the force of the attack. Certain in his footing, he shoved against his shield and pushed the Red Templar off of him for several feet.

Years of training were lost to a cursed Lyrium song, making the Templar before him little more than a rabid beast needing to be put down. His opponent brought his blade back in preparation to cut Cullen in half, leaving himself open for attack. Cullen pressed his advantage before the Templar could realize his mistake. With a forward step he grabbed the Red Templar by the shoulder and walked him into his ready sword.  

Blood gurgled as it spewed from the Red Templar’s punctured gut. Right when his opponent started to slump, Cullen pushed him off of his blade and stepped over his dying body. A quick search of the field revealed Delani dancing around three Red Templars, there and gone before they could land a single blow.

Water splashed under his boots as he marched toward the Inquisitor. The Templar that stepped into his path was cut down, his throat slit by the sharpened edge of Cullen’s sword. An elemental mage sent a blast of ice and snow in Cullen’s direction, the winter’s breath held at bay by the wall of his shield. The same shield that Cullen smashed into the mage’s temple before he too met his end by Cullen’s sword.

Cullen leaned out of the way of a falling sword, turned and bashed his newest opponent with his shield. As the man stumbled forward and fell into the water Cullen pressed the Templar’s face into the water with his boot before he buried his sword into the Templar’s spine.

Three more fell before he found his way to Delani at last. Her attention was on a Red Templar so far gone in his corruption that he’d become a mutated creature no longer recognizable as human. Cullen took a step in her direction to help end the fight but it was already over before his foot touched the ground. 

Before Delani was even fully turned a knife was flying from her hand and past Cullen’s head. The sound of the knife cutting through air whizzed past his ear and was then followed by a fleshy, squishing noise.

He turned to find the short blade sticking from the eye of another elf dressed in strange, foreign armor. His would-be attacker fell into the water with a splash and Cullen turned to face Delani again. The corner of her mouth curled with arrogance, sea green eyes were ablaze with delight and amusement, and she winked at him.

“Gratitude, Inquisitor Lavellan.”

Her reply was cut off when several Red Templars and Venatori moved in on them. At the sight of the fight brewing before them, her grin grew. Delani gave Cullen a sideways glance and promised, “I’ll give you the chance to make it up to me, Commander.”

He met her gaze, feeling the corner of his mouth twitch with the desire to return her frivolous grin. They nodded in unison and attacked at the same time. As one they moved, back to back, side by side, so single minded were their strikes that their opponents had never stood a chance.

Delani’s amusement was contagious as they sifted through their enemies. If ever there existed a dance Cullen could admit to enjoying, it was this one. His every step was complemented by hers, their movements synchronized and deadly as one by one their enemies fell.

Cullen ducked out of the path of a sweeping long sword, placing him in the perfect position for Delani to vault off of his back. Her daggers cut through plate and bone as she landed on the Red Templar, killing him before they tumbled to the ground. Delani rolled back onto her feet and was onto her next target before their enemies could assess the damage.

The sound of glass breaking was followed by the roar of fire. A grenade of Antivan Fire erupted between the feet of several Templars and Venatori. The fire caught on their robes and skin, and ate away at both until there was nothing left but their screams.

Just as Delani had planned, the fire herded their enemies in Cullen’s direction. Distracted as they were trying not to get burned alive, most were left open to be picked off by his sword. When a Red Templar squared off to face Cullen, he kicked the corrupted Templar in the center of his breastplate and sent the man stumbling backwards.

His backwards tumble brought him to Delani’s waiting arms. She grabbed the Templar by his shoulders and pulled him into her chest. Before he could shake her off of him Delani dragged the sharp edge of her dagger across his neck and pushed him to the ground.

They met each other’s gaze for a moment, only long enough for both of them to see enemies stepping up behind them. Cullen reached for Delani the same time she moved for him. They gripped each other by the forearm and propelled themselves forward, past the other and straight into the enemies at their backs.

Cullen’s sword found the weak point in the Templar’s armor and sunk into his gut with ease. His sword dislodged with his turn, pulling free from one foe before clashing against the blade of another. The momentum of him parrying the Templar’s attack made them both twist, sending the Templar into Delani’s dagger and Cullen towards his next opponent.

In a matter of minutes the ravine was cleared of Corypheus’s forces. Inquisition soldiers inspected the dead, both alley and foe, for survivors. Now that there was a break in the battle they could all catch their breaths and regroup before the next wave of enemy soldiers found their way to the temple’s entrance.

Cullen slid his sword back into its sheath and placed his shield on his back before he removed his helm. Tucking it under his arm, he wiped the sweat from his brow and quickly inspected over Delani. Her lip was split and there was a cut on her eyebrow, a bruise was starting to take shape on her jaw, but she was in once piece.

When he stepped up to her and tucked a gloved finger under her chin a smile expanded over the plush of her lips and his heart fluttered as it always did when she grinned at him like that.

“Remind me again why we keep you at Skyhold when we fight so well together?” she wondered as he turned her face a bit in search of further injuries.

When he found none, Cullen allowed a smile to twist the corner of his mouth. His voice dropped an octave when he answered, rumbling with the desire she always stoked inside of him. “Perhaps because we would never leave your tent and there is work to be done.”

She hummed and leaned her cheek into his palm. Cullen thumbed over the arch of her cheekbone and his smile fell as he recalled the fight they’d just come out of. “Delani, there are elves here not belonging to the Clans—“

“I know,” she cut in before he could try to voice some kind of apology over their deaths. Green eyes sharpened and Delani held his hand to her cheek as she assured him, “I’ve had to fight a few of them myself. We came here to stop Corypheus, those who stand in the way of that cannot be spared.”

Comforted by the knowledge that she didn’t begrudge him for killing the foreign elves, he allowed his attention to be pulled from her when Morrigan called for Delani.

“We haven’t the time, Inquisitor,” the mage reminded them with disapproval in her strange yellow eyes. "Corypheus is a greater threat right now.  Perhaps saving your reunion for later, once said threat is gone, would be the wisest course of action."

Though her sea green eyes were sharp with distaste, Delani eventually relented with a sigh and agreed. “Right, we should probably be on our way then.”

Cullen’s hand moved from her cheek to grip her by the nape of the neck. He leaned down and pressed his brow to hers. “Be safe, ma atishan.”

“Ma ar’lath, vhenan’ara,” she replied. After stealing a kiss from his lips she took several backwards steps until she was standing with her team again. Delani nodded at Cullen before turning for the temple’s entrance.

She, Morrigan, and Solas crossed the water while Dorian and Cassandra lingered behind only long enough to acknowledge the request in his gaze. Keep her safe. Their replying nods were reassuring and Cullen allowed himself to find relief in the fact that they would protect her. They too then turned to rejoin their team. 

He watched Delani take the steps between the two sentinel harts before turning to address his men. They took advantage of the break in the battle to address their injuries and take stock of the damage. In just a few minutes they were once again ready for war.

A dragon’s roar shook the trees and Cullen knew that the Chargers’ distraction had finally met its end. A shadow cast over the clearing as Corypheus’s dragon flapped its mighty wings toward the temple. Cullen’s prayer to the Maker was followed by instructions for his men to take position. The dragon was the predecessor to the forces yet to come.

They needed to hold this position and push Corypheus’s army back. Now all Cullen and his men could do was fight until another contingency fought their way to the ravine to join them. The Arbor Wilds would be cleared in time. For now they just needed to hold their position until Delani’s mission was complete.

~*~

The doors, ancient and heavy, were sealed shut by a magical golden light. If they were going to leave this temple it wasn’t going to be the way they entered. Wonderful. Turning on her heel, Delani started down the path further into the temple and the others kept pace behind her. 

“At last, Mythal’s sanctum.” Morrigan broke the temple’s heavy silence. “Let us proceed before Corypheus interferes.”

The spell that now sealed those doors were older than anything any of them could identify. Powerful as Corypheus was he would still need time to break them down. By then it would already be too late. 

Behind her, Cassandra pulled them to a stop, reminding Morrigan, “You said that Corypheus wanted an Eluvian, but he mentioned a ‘Well of Sorrows.’ Which is right?”

Delani crossed her arms as she moved her gaze onto Morrigan. Detailed a woman as she, the Seeker liked walking into surprises even less than Delani did. If they were going to thwart Corypheus’s plans they needed to know exactly what it was that he was after. Morrigan had been so certain that it was the Eluvian, but now the mage shifted her weight with doubt. 

Scratching the top of her head, Morrigan admitted as much to the rest of them. “I… am uncertain of what he referred to.”

An amused huff escaped through Delani’s nose and Morrigan’s yellow eyes narrowed at the sound. The corner of her mouth curled into a smirk when she observed, “How novel an experience this must be for you; to not actually know everything.”

Solas snorted at her comment, and Delani didn’t need to glance his way to know she’d find approval in his eyes.

Morrigan’s glare sharpened and her lip curled into a snarl. Irate, she conceded, “Yes, I was wrong. Does this please you?” She rolled her eyes at the sight of Delani’s careless nod before reminding them of their purpose. “Whatever the Well of Sorrows might be, Corypheus seeks it. And thus you must keep it from his grasp.”

She was right about that much at least.

Swiveling around, Delani led them back on their path deeper into Mythal’s temple. Nature was reclaiming the sanctuary. Trees and greenery broke through the tiled ground. The smell of earth and floral perfumes filled the air, and birds native to the Arbor wilds hopped along the thick canopy as they chatted amongst themselves. 

It was beautiful, breathtaking, a marvel that had gone so long untouched and unseen. Elves had lived here, had worshiped here, had dedicated themselves to gods that had once felt close enough to touch. Her mother would have loved to have seen it.

Delani clenched her teeth and breathed in deeply at the pain that surged through her at the thought of her mother and of her clan. This temple had once been a sacred place, and would be again to any Dalish that entered. There was so little of the past left for them to recover. Once the Inquisition was done in the Arbor Wilds, Delani would try and ensure that whatever knowledge could be found within these walls would be found by the Dalish. It was their past to recover, no one else’s.

All of that would have to wait for later, however. They needed to find the Well before Corypheus’s people did. As they walked toward the center of the temple’s courtyard, her companions mused over Corypheus’s resurrection behind her.

They’d seen him die, the violence of it killing both his alleys and the elves that guarded the temple’s gates. Their team had only a few minutes to take in the destruction before one of the fallen Grey Wardens began to violently shake. Blood blackened by blight had spewed from his mouth like a fountain of ink before his flesh tore and his bones broke. What was once human reshaped into a millennia old Tevinter magister and the sound of his dragon coming to his master’s aid had sent them running before a true confrontation could be had. 

At Morrigan’s observation that Corypheus could possess any blighted creature, Delani choked down the fear that perhaps there was no way to truly defeat him. Corypheus could die, they just needed to find out how. But first, they needed the Well of Sorrows.

Standing tall in the center of the courtyard was a cylindrical monument covered in leafs and vines. There were words carved into the stone, peeking through the leafs and drawing their attention. Stepping up onto the raised platform caused a mysterious magic to glow beneath their feet. 

Morrigan’s husky voice was curious as they approached the monument. “It appears the temple’s magics are still strong.”

The spell that sealed the doors had been evidence enough of that. Pointedly ignoring Morrigan, Delani inspected the glyphs etched into the stone. The words were Elvish. So rare was it to find written Elvish that Delani could only recognize a few of the words despite having grown up as the Keeper’s daughter. 

With yellow eyes sharpened by concentration, Morrigan leaned in to try and read the ancient text. “I can only recognize a few phrases,” Morrigan admitted as she scoured the writing for a clue to what they were looking for. 

Solas stepped up behind them and easily peered over Delani’s shoulder at the text. Not needing time to work the translation out in his mind, he read the words aloud before explaining to the others, “It means enter the path of the Well of Sorrows.”

She and Morrigan recognized a word at the same time, but it was the mage who spoke in explanation. “There is something about knowledge… respectful or pure.. shiven… shivenen.” With a shake of her head, Morrigan confessed, “Tis all I can translate. That it mentions the Well is a good omen.”

They could agree on that much. “At least we know that we’re headed in the right direction.”

Following the pattern of the tiles, without backtracking or stepping off of the platform was the only way to solve the puzzle. A rite of passage that led from the courtyard to the temple proper. It was old elven magic, and Cassandra voiced her discomfort in dabbling with the unknown. 

It was a sentiment that Delani didn’t share. And even if she did, it was either solve the puzzle or turn back. There was only one choice. 

They walked the maze-like courtyard in respectful silence —or eery anxiety in Cassandra’s case— completing one puzzle after the other until all of the floor tiles were lit. It was a bit of a process, solving the pattern of tiles without ruining the progress already made. In the end they managed to get them all finished, a flash of light alerting them that the ritual was complete and the path before them was now open. 

At the courtyard’s end was a hall lined with bowing dragons. The door it led to was aglow with magical blue light, the same light that had emanated from the tiles before it. It was open, waiting, welcoming them past its threshold as it would have the ancient elves that had come before them. 

Not for the first time since entering the temple, Delani wished that Cullen had come with her. He was devout to his Maker, an firm Andrastian until the bitter end, but he supported Delani in her own beliefs and he would have wanted to have seen this himself. 

She pushed past the double doors, the glow fading as they swept inwards, and led them into the temple proper. A gasp tore through Delani as she took in the magnitude of the temple. It was untouched by time or nature. The Wilds had reclaimed most of the courtyard. The green of leafs and vines, and grass and trees demanded entrance, but its progress had been stopped by the magic that kept the temple safe.

Slowly they walked towards the grand entrance’s center, Delani turning in a circle as she took in the room’s grandeur to its entirety. A thousand gold and bronze tile pieces created a mosaic under their feet. Statures stood tall and proud, and whole; Mythal’s imagery welcoming them into her sanctum. 

The hairs on the back of Delani’s neck stood on end, and she rolled her shoulders to support the weight of a dozen narrowed gazes on her back. She didn’t need to turn to know that if she did she’d find several arrows trained on her and her companions. 

Across the room, on the level above them, an elf in ancient armor stalked the edge of his perch. His arms were crossed and a sense of disdain radiated from him. They were not welcome within these walls, no matter what rites had been performed and observed. 

There was a curiosity in the man’s tone when he regarded Delani and her companions. “You are unlike the other invaders,” he observed with a tilt of his head. Strange yellow eyes were sharp on Delani as he finished, “You have the features of those who call themselves elvhen. You bare the mark of magic, which is familiar.”

Almost accusingly he demanded, “How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who first disturbed our slumber?”

“They are my enemies,” Delani answered him. “As well as yours.”

Satisfied with her answer, the elf proceeded to introduce himself as Abelas. He and the others were the last Sentinels guarding Mythal’s temple. They’d likely been awoken from uthenara by Corypheus’s army coming down on them in force. 

Uthenara! Delani could hardly imagine. It and Arlathan were just half remembered concepts of a past she couldn’t even visualize. Yet here they stood, Abelas and his Sentinels, keys to a time stolen from her people. She had so many questions. Where did she even start?

She snapped to focus at the mention of the vir abelas’an and Abelas’s ever growing distaste in their pursuit of it. “It is not for you,” he scowled down at them, his brows furrowing as he took their measure and found them lacking. “It is not for any of you.”

Delani took a step forward, propelled by insult and steadily growing anger. Blast the Well, it wouldn’t help her people. But he could. “Our people have lost everything,” she said, hoping to the creators that he would listen. “They need you. They could learn from you.”

His lip curled back and Abelas sneered down at her. “Our people,” he repeated with such scathing disgust in his tone that she nearly flinched away from the sting of it. Though he phrased the accusation in the shape of a question, Delani could hear his words for what they were. “The ones we see in the forest, shadows wearing vallaslin?”

The replying shake of his head was curt, sharp, repulsed. Slowly so that she could not mistake his meaning, he emphasized each word as he assured her, “You are not my people.”

His words hurt more than they should have. She’d heard them before, though never so bitingly. Glancing back to where Solas was standing behind her, she wondered, “Friend of yours?”

She turned away from Solas’s responding frown in time to hear Abelas compare them to Calpernia and her men. Outrage filled Delani. The comparison was unfair and unwarranted. Calpernia had desecrated sovereign ground as readily as her kinsmen did to all things elvhen. 

Born to the Keeper, Delani knew to respect and honor the past; even if it, if he, would not do the same in return.

“We observed the ritual that granted us passage,” Delani said through grit teeth, her hands balled up into tight fists at her sides. “We’ve respected this temple as best we could.”

Abelas paused to consider the truth of her words. A sharp nod punctuated his flat, “I believe you.” Before Delani could grumble about his ability to recognize the obvious, he moved on. Though he recognized their respect of the temple and its rites, even to the goddess it stood in testament to, he still branded them as trespassers. 

His promise of aid in eliminating Calpernia and her Venatori was followed by the finality of their own banishment from the temple. “When this is done you will be permitted to depart and never return,” he offered as though their exile was a boon they should have been stumbling over themselves in gratitude for. 

As though he thought there was a chance that Delani was considering otherwise, Solas reminded her, “This is our goal is it not? There is no reason to fight these Sentinels.”

It was a thought that Morrigan too shared, though she seemed vastly less opposed to the thought of slaying what remained of a past that didn’t belong to her. “Consider carefully,” she whispered, attempting to cajole Delani into bearing in mind the possibility of having to take by force what they had already been refused. 

“You must stop Corypheous, yes,” Morrigan pushed on. “But you may also need the Well for your own.”

Delani scowled at the mage, incredulous that she would even dare to make such a suggestion. These were not her people, and this was not her past, what did Morrigan care if obtaining the Well meant destroying the rest? She wouldn’t feel the effect, the senseless loss.

She didn’t need to think on her answer, there was but one that she could make and live with herself afterword. 

Delani turned to Abelas again and nodded curtly. “We accept your offer.”

Gripping his wrist behind his back, Abelas promised them a guide to Calpernia and her minions. “As for the vir abelas’an,” he said with a glare and an odd mixture of determination despondency in his voice. “It shall not be disspoiled, even if I must destroy it myself.”

Abelas turned to leave and a panicked, “No!” shouted from Morrigan before a burst of magic exploded beside Delani, a raven flapping from the cloud and giving chase to Abelas before he could fulfill his promise. 

Shouting after her was useless. Morrigan was gone. Glaring in the direction that Abelas and Morrigan had went, Delani cursed under her breath. All she could do now was hope that the mage didn’t do anything irreversibly foolish, like going back on a deal that was hardly minutes old.

A door to the left of them opened, a Sentinel stood beside it. Their guide was hunched over, their weight supported by a firm grip on a staff, though the thick tome they carried seemed only to add to their burden. 

With one final glance at the path she couldn’t follow, Delani led the others to one they could. Though slow moving, she didn’t mind their guide’s pace. Delani took advantage of their speed, or the lack there of, to take in their surroundings. 

The temple’s interior was completely untouched, not by time nor by nature. Everything was as Delani imagined it had always been, and she was in awe of it all. Her people had once walked these halls. They’d prayed at the alters, admired the mosaic tiles depicting their gods. The past was alive and right before her eyes, so close that she could touch it. 

At their guide’s sharp, reprimanding voice, Delani yanked her fingers from the tiled wall like a scolded child. The ancient elf stomped her staff once before turning toward their path again. 

“I think she’d prefer if we remained close,” Solas advised, an apology in his eyes as he regarded Delani. 

She frowned, displeased with being rushed. “Just a quick look around,” she murmured and gave the mosaic depiction of Elgar’nan a departing glance before hurrying after the elder elf. 

They followed the guide through the temple’s hidden passages, only deviating from their path when Delani’s curiosity pulled her from the pack to investigate the temple’s details. She wished she had more to explore, to learn what secrets were stored within these walls. When they left it would all be gone. 

‘Never to return,’ Abelas had said, his warning clear. 

After today all Delani would have of this place were her memories, and she was to determined to absorb as much as possible. 

The final door opened and she winced away from the sudden sunlight that blinded them in greeting. Sounds of water and chirping birds broke the silence, along with the clash of metal and the death cries of the ongoing fight below. There wasn’t time to admire the view. Delani thanked their guide before instructing her team to prepare to face Calpernia one final time. 

Sentinels fell to Ventatori, the final obstacles between Calpernia and the Well cut down with ease. Delani and the others approached as the fight came to an end and Calpernia turned to face them with her lips twisted into a sneer. 

When Delani looked upon Calpernia she felt pity, second to respect. Though on the wrong side of things it was easy for Delani to relate to good intentions when she saw them. Calpernia was a former slave who hadn't forgotten her past and was determined to save others from the fate she'd escaped. Her willingness to do whatever it took to reform Tevinter was what made her so easy for Corypheus to manipulate. 

He had promised her change, the total and utter reformation of her homeland. But she did not realize that their visions were not aligned. Calpernia saw the promises of a man who thought himself a god, and thought he would use that power to further her cause. Delani would make her see the truth, and trusted that it would be enough to remove Calpernia from this fight without shedding anymore blood. 

If she wanted to be Corypheus's vessel, Delani would tell her the cost. 

“Leave now,” warned Calpernia, offering them mercy when it was she who needed it. Delani had to admire her confidence, especially when she ended with an ominous, “Or not at all.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, but out of respect for Calpernia Delani tamped her smirk before it could fully curl her lips. The mage would likely interpret it as an insult, and Delani hoped to keep the conversation civil for as long as she could. 

Delani crossed her arms in front of her chest and spread her feet shoulder width apart. Raising her chin at the woman across the field, she answered, “No.” Surprise raised the mage’s brows and Delani pressed on. “We have things to discuss.”

The surprise on Calpernia’s expression doubled, not having expected Delani to try diplomacy before reacting with violence. Again Delani mused at their similarities. Sure, Delani hadn’t followed a thousand year old darkspawn abomination in a half-cocked ploy to rule the land, but she understood why Calpernia had taken such a route. 

She thought she was doing the right thing. How easy it was for the ends to justify the means when trying to do the right thing. Calpernia wanted change and would do anything for it. Even drown all of Thedas in blood if she had too. An infected wound had to be bled if it was ever to heal. It was a sentiment that Delani knew well. 

She too wanted change; for the Dalish, for all elves. There were times that she also mused that change had to be forced, drastic measures for a drastic change. But the perceived need for drastic measures was what led to the Chantry explosion in Kirkwall. 

There was a lesson to be learned by the massacre of her clan. The path to progress couldn’t be seen when bloodshed was answered by more bloodshed. A world forged by violence could only ever be violent, its nature a reflection of its creation. That was not the world that Delani wanted to live in. 

If Calpernia couldn’t see that, then Delani would do what had to be done. 

Calpernia’s sneer persisted. “I knew you’d try to take the Well for yourself.” She shook her head at the very notion. “But you’d still be just a child, playing with a sword. Corypheus will wield it as a Master.”

Such misplaced faith. Calpernia was too strong a woman to fall for this kind of deceit. That was what Delani was counting on. “Once you’ve drunk from the Well Corypheus will use a ritual to bind you.” She quirked an eyebrow, daring the woman to try and dispute her. All she had were the promises of a mad man, Delani had proof. “You’ll be a mindless tool. Enslaved to his will.”

Slavery was not too distant a memory for Calpernia to no longer feel its horrors. The idea that the one she’d followed so adamantly would take her freedoms yet again was enough to give her pause. 

“Where I come from idle tales must be proven.”

Convenient, then, that Delani had exactly that. Without breaking Caplernia’s gaze, Delani reached into her rucksack and freed the scroll from within. She tossed it across the field, explaining what it was and where she’d found it as Calpernia caught and read the ancient text. 

Initial doubt was crushed by the weight of her realization. Corypheus was a liar. His every promise had been a tug on her strings to make her do as he desired. But now she knew the truth and Calpernia wouldn’t be enslaved by any man, magister, or darkspawn aspiring to divinity. 

She cursed and the scroll burned to ash between her fingers before being swept away by a refreshing wind. Calpernia’s bonds to Corypheus were broken. She was free. 

If reform could be made in Tevinter, Calpernia was the woman who could see it through. Delani wouldn’t stand in the way of progress, as long as it was done the right way. 

“Perhaps Tevinter does need a strong leader,” she admitted, knowing there were some who would disapprove of what came next. “Be that woman, while you still can.”

Calpernia’s features scrunched with doubt. She folded her arms before her chest and regarded Delani for a silent moment, gaging her serious. “As if you’d let me walk away.” There was doubt in her voice. But it was the same offer Calpernia had first made them. 

Behind Delani, Dorian encouraged Calpernia to take the offer. “Maker knows we could use a reformer or ten back home,” he jested but they all knew it was the truth. 

Seeing the sincerity of Delani’s offer, Calpernia snatched the chance to escape with her life before the decision could be reevaluated. No longer interested in being Corypheus’s vessel, she forfeited the Well to Delani with the encouragement of using it against her former master. She would confront Corypheus on his deception then return to Tevinter to actualize change. 

Calpernia left with her life and Delani was relieved that she hadn’t needed to take it from her. 

Their gazes were drawn to the Well when Abelas sprinted up the pathway to it, trusting the stones to appear underfoot as he climbed. A raven kept pace beside him, Morrigan’s determination to beat him there was evident with every flap of her wings. Unwilling to allow any harm to come to Abelas or the Well, Delani rushed after them.

She and the others reached the top just as Morrigan reclaimed her human form in a burst of magic. With Delani standing atop the pathway and Morrigan blocking the Well, Abelas was unwittingly caught between them. Carefully he backed away from those he considered trespassers. Abelas’s expression was tight with dispassion. Protecting the Well had been his life’s mission, that they might take it for themselves was a fate he simply could not accept.

Narrowed yellow eyes moved from the Sentinel onto Delani. Morrigan’s desire was to protect the Well, though that responsibility belonged alone to the man she kept from it. “The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows,” she said in preemptive justification in stopping him by whatever means she thought necessary. 

Delani moved to stand beside Morrigan, not in solidarity, but to act as a buffer between the woman and Abelas. 

“So the Sanctum is disspoiled at last.”

Not if there was another way. If there was even the slightest chance that they could preserve this remnant of elvhen past, Delani would take it. She didn’t care for its power, she cared for what it symbolized.

“You would have destroyed the Well yourself,” Morrigan observed.

“To keep it from your grasping fingers,” Abelas argued. “Better it be lost than bestowed on the undeserving.”

Delani ground her teeth. Abelas was her living ancestor. Were they dwarves he would have been called Paragon. He did not know her and at a glance he had judged her unworthy. It was a blow to her pride that she wouldn’t acknowledge just yet. 

Morrigan rebuffed his words with a scowl and an insult. When she accused, “You’d let your people’s legacy rot in the shadows,” Delani knew that elven legacy was not her concern. Power lost when it could be hers, that was what upset Morrigan.

Patience gone, Delani growled a warning for Morrigan to back off. “Enough.” When the mage tried again to make her case, she cut her off. “I said enough.”

Calmer now that she realized that aggression would get her nowhere, when Morrigan next spoke her voice was soft, beseeching Delani to listen. “The Well clearly offers power, Inquisitor,” she gently observed. “If that power can be turned against Corypheus, can you afford not to use it?”

As fine a point as it was, Delani was still reluctant to concede. 

Her reluctance was affirmed by Abelas’s biting, “Do you even know what you ask?” He turned toward the Well and watched as its water rippled. Without looking back at them he explained the source of the Well’s power. Countless memories had been spilled into the Well. At the end of their days, each of Mythal’s servants dispensed of themselves, all that they were becoming mere drops of something greater. Thoughts, knowledge, a thousand lifetimes all within the pool before them. 

“All that we were, all that we knew, it will be lost forever.”

A worse fate Delani could not imagine. So much had been lost already, to lose the Well too… there had to be another way. 

Abelas paused to consider, perhaps realizing that there were worse things than bestowing the Well’s knowledge to one he deemed undeserving. After a moment he admitted, “You have shown respect to Mythal, and there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny.”

He turned to face Delani full on and maintained her gaze. His strong yellow eyes searched her, measured her, reevaluated his initial reaction to her. “Is that your desire,” he asked. “To partake in the virabelas’an?”

No. Truthfully it wasn’t. Delani respected the Well and its power, but after the fight that Abelas had put up to keep her from it, it did not feel right to just take it. Not without his blessing. 

“One does not obtain permission. One obtains the right.”

Turning on his heel, Abelas started for the descending pathway that would return him to the temple proper. Without a backwards glance at them, he paused with the warning, “The virabelas’an might be too much for a mortal to comprehend. Brave it if you must, but know you this,” he did turn back to face them then, his warning too great to risk its weight going misjudged. “You shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal.”

Morrigan was quick to voice her doubt, skeptical of lore or legend, hard pressed to believe in any gods elven or otherwise. 

Though she could not care less what Morrigan believed in, Delani glared at Morrigan for her comment. They were in Mythal’s temple, speaking to the Sentinel of the key to Her eluvian. It was not a matter of belief, it was a matter of respect, and Morrigan had none. 

With his warning made there was nothing left for Abelas. His fate was his own now, though Delani hoped that he’d overcome his repugnance of their people. The Dalish could learn so much from him, if only he gave them the chance. 

At Delani’s word of thanks, he advised, “Don’t thank me yet, shemlan,” and turned again before he could catch Delani’s frown. 

Abelas left and a decision remained. Who would drink from the Well?

An easy decision where Morrigan was concerned. “I am willing to pay the price the Well demands, I am also the best suited to use its knowledge in your service.”

“Or more likely to your own ends,” challenged Solas, giving voice to thoughts Delani too shared.

Morrigan waved off his argument, uninterested in his opinion. To Delani she explained, “Of those present I alone have the training to make use of this. Let me drink, Inquisitor.”

“You alone?” Delani arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “This is my heritage.”

The other woman shook her head, unsurprised that Delani would misconstrue her meaning. “Can you honestly tell me that there’s anyone better suited?”

One does not obtain permission, one obtains the right, Abelas had said. If that was the case, then the right was Delani’s. The Well belonged to her people, it was a part of their past. Morrigan’s thoughts, motives, and intentions were her own. What she would do with the Well’s power was unknown beyond her promise to help the Inquisition. And even then, she expected them to take her at her word.

Delani didn’t like Morrigan, nor did she trust her. The mage was self-serving and lacked respect for anything she deemed unimportant or insignificant – elven past and the preservation thereof included. If the Well’s knowledge was going to be absorbed by anyone, it was going to be by an elf who would respect its power.

That left only Solas or herself.

“No. Do not ask me again.”

His refusal meant that the responsibility was hers.

Morrigan argued against Delani’s decision, reminding her of her importance to the Inquisition. They did not know what effects would come with drinking from the Well, but Morrigan was prepared to take the risk. At least she didn’t insult Delani’s intelligence by acting as though her risking the outcome was a selfless deed for the good of the Inquisition.

If the decision was enslaving herself to Mythal or forfeiting the Well’s knowledge to Morrigan, then the choice was clear. There were worse gods to be enslaved to.

Disapproval was clear on Morrigan’s features but it was just as clear that Delani didn’t care. There was no argument that Morrigan could pose that would end in Delani allowing her to drink. A sigh escaped the mage when she realized that there was no point. Delani was the Inquisitor and her decision had been made. 

The water was cool when she stepped into it, refreshing, inviting, almost even lulling. It was easy to forget the danger within, the unknown she was stepping into, that she would drink from and become bound to. Nerves filled her belly, but Delani rolled back her shoulders and continued to the Well’s center. 

Gliding her fingers over the water, she relished in its temperature for a moment longer. She was stalling, but only long enough to take in a steeling breath. Delani cupped her hands within the water and brought the drink to her mouth. 

Cold and refreshing on her palate, it wasn’t until Delani swallowed the water that she felt its power. She felt as though she’d been punched in the gut by a giant and crushed to the ground by the force of the blow. Blacking out of a minute, she felt herself pull from one realm to one made of whispering smoke and boundless darkness, only to be spat back out when Solas shook her awake again. 

She was allowed a moment to register the concern on the faces of her companions before a disgruntled cry snapped her back to focus. Corypheus was furious, and coming their way. The only escape was through the eluvian, and now Delani had the key, was the key. 

Creators, she hoped she’d made the right decision.

~*~

Victory was theirs. The Inquisition’s forces had all but crushed Corypheus’s army, coming down on the corrupted Templars and mages like a hammer. The hours of battle had passed in a blur. 

He knew the field, his men, his enemies, and the flow of battle at all times. That knowledge had saved more than a few lives, and had cost their enemies dearly. By the battle’s end he felt certain in their victory. Another battle won, another blow to Corypheus; this one he would be slow to recover from, if he ever did.

A horn blared within the Wilds, sounding the retreat of the forces that had thought to invade it. Another Venatori fell to Cullen’s blade before he could turn tail with the others. A grin almost curled his lips as Cullen watched their enemies flee the field. 

Delani had done it, whatever it was. She’d stolen from Corypheus the object of his desires, yet again thwarting his plans. Now that his presence had no purpose, the only option left for Corypheus and his forces was retreat or die, because were they to surrender there would be no mercy.

Lifting his sword, Cullen commanded his men to pursue the retreating army, to push them from the Arbor Wilds, never to return. That was what they had promised the Dalish that lived here, and Cullen would keep his word. 

He noticed too late that an archer had ducked behind a tree to knock an arrow into place. When the Red Templar leaned out from his hiding spot and let loose his arrow, Cullen reacted a fraction of a second too slowly. 

Despite his delayed reaction, the resulting injury could have been vastly worse. Slowed by his armor instead of causing fatal injury, the projectile pierced his breastplate and wedged into his shoulder. 

The archer was dead the moment he took aim and released his bow string, shot down by another archer in Cullen’s company. The woman jogged up to Cullen as he gripped the arrow’s center and tested how deeply it had penetrated his shoulder.

“Are you all right, Commander?” 

He nodded at the soldier and ordered her to press forward with the others. Confident that pulling the arrow free wouldn’t cause more damage to the injury, he yanked it out of his shoulder and stared down at the blood covered arrowhead. 

The metal had been infused with red lyrium, which was not uncommon among Corypheus’s archers. Its typically pointed tip was chipped, though it was impossible to know if it had happened before being shot into Cullen’s shoulder. 

He tossed the arrow onto the ground and continued forward with his men. Later he would check with a medic and tend to the injuries he’d accrued throughout the fight. Now he had to focus on evicting Corypheus’s army from the Arbor Wilds so that he could return to Delani’s side where he belonged, where he would always belong. 

It won’t be much longer now, ma atish’an. 

Chapter Text

A detailed map of the Arbor Wilds was laid out atop a cask with Cullen, Captain Ophelia, and the Dalish Hunt Masters gathered around it. After their victory at the Temple of Mythal, Corypheus’s forces had started to pull back from the Wilds, but there were still stragglers lingering about. 

As long as there were Venatori and Red Templars within the Arbor Wilds they were a threat to the Dalish that lived there. A promise had been made, and Cullen would see it kept. 

“Small bands have been spotted here and here,” stated Naevys pointing to the locations on the map of the Arbor Wilds. 

Pain pulsed through Cullen’s head, making his vision go fuzzy. Images of trees blurred and blackened around the edges. Gritting his teeth, he breathed in deeply through his nose and rubbed his fingers into his eyes. After a few blinks he tried to refocus on the map between them, only for his migraine to flare again. 

Swallowing hard, Cullen shook his head and tried once more to ignore the pain. He started to rub the back of his neck and winced away from the sharp stab that cut through him, starting at the base of his skull and traveling down his spine, reverberating through his bones from the marrow. It was an ache he knew, a familiar pain, but worse.

Cullen struggled to refocus on their task. Clearing his throat, he forced out the question, “How many?”

The pause that followed was tense with uncertainty. When Naevys finally answered her words were slow. “The groups have been small, no greater than ten men.”

He nodded but the action sent a shooting pain to the back of his forehead and Cullen rubbed his brow in attempt to stop the hurt. Blood was pumping loudly in his ears, each pulse deepening his migraine to the point where he was uncertain that he could continue to ignore it. 

A hand fell onto his pouldron and he felt Captain Ophelia take a step closer. Quietly, she asked, “Are you unwell, Commander?” 

The replying shake of his head pulled a wince onto his features, and Cullen hissed at the growing pain in his skull. “Just a headache,” he said through clenched teeth. When he lifted his hand Captain Ophelia released his shoulder, and Cullen turned away from the group.

“Are you sure?” Hunt Master Kellam inquired to his back. To the others he commented, “He looks rather pale.”

“Perhaps we should send for a healer, or even take him to a Keeper,” the last male Hunt Master, Aeson, suggested before addressing Naevys. “Clan Manahalam is nearest. Will your Keeper help?”

There wasn’t a second’s hesitation when Naevys answered. “After all the Inquisition has done for us, she would be glad to.” 

Raising his hand, Cullen groaned out an assurance that their concern was unnecessary. “It will pass,” he said. “Just give me a moment.”

Even if he couldn’t admit it out loud, Cullen knew that it was more than a headache. His body felt heavy, drained of energy or the will to even stand. His mouth was dry. He felt both hot and cold at the same time, the sweat breaking out on his brow also sent a chill coursing through him. It wasn’t just a head ache, though he wished that it was. And it would not pass, that much he could feel deep in his bones.

Cullen started walking, unsure where he was going. All he knew was that the pain was getting worse, and he was not going to be able to outrun it. There was a steadily growing tension in his chest, and his breaths were coming more harshly now, desperate intakes that matched the beat of his racing heart. His muscles started to spasm, and his knee buckled.

Behind him, Ophelia shouted a surprised, “Commander!”

He fell forward onto his knees, his hands fisting the earth to steady him. His stomach turned and Cullen felt as though he was going to be sick. The pressure building his his head was twisting him up inside, tightening his muscles, and setting his heartbeat to a sprint. The world around him began to spin, worsening his nausea with each inhale. He felt as though he were on the boat from Kirkwall again, the ground beneath him unsteady, rocking back and forth until he felt his morning meal threaten to come up. 

Captain Ophelia was suddenly crouched beside him, her hand on his back as she commanded one of the Hunt Masters to find a healer. To Cullen she asked, “What’s wrong, Commander?”

When Cullen opened his mouth to speak a dry heave left him instead. His stomach felt as though it would empty its contents and all he could do to stave off the bile was breathe. He shook his head, unable to answer. Clasping his eyes shut, Cullen tried to steady his breathing and stop the world from spinning. 

“Can you stand?” asked his second in command, pulling one of his arms around her shoulders so that she could help him carry his weight. Cullen shook his head and she shouted back at the others, “Help me carry him.”

Aeson was at his other side in an instant. He took Cullen’s other arm and pulled it around his shoulders. The warrior elf and Ophelia both hefted up Cullen’s body, dragging him to his feet where he struggled to hold up his own weight. 

On his left, Aeson commented, “He’s burning up.”

“I know,” replied Ophelia, dread in her voice. “He’s getting worse fast. We must get him to a healer now.”

Kellam waved for them to follow him. “The medical tents are not far. An Inquisition physician should at least be able to bring down his fever, yes?”

“Maker, I hope so,” Captain Ophelia grumbled as she and Aeson dragged Cullen toward one of the many medical tents nearer to the encampment’s heart. 

People jumped out of their path as they hurried past, staring at the group of three carting the Commander through the encampment. Naevys met them part way with a physician in tow, and the man quickly set to work. With an order for Ophelia and Aeson to carry Cullen the rest of the way toward the medical tent, he started down his list of questions.

“What happened?”

“We don’t know,” Ophelia answered, grunting as she adjusted Cullen’s arm on her shoulders. “He was pale and said that he had a headache.”

On his other side Aeson added, “A bad one by the looks of it.”

“He said he needed a moment but when he started to walk away he collapsed.”

They entered the tent and the air cooled significantly, a breeze wafting through the tent flaps. A chill coursed through Cullen and he shivered through his multiple layers of clothing. Ophelia and Aeson deposited Cullen onto the first available cot. The physician stepped up beside him and first inspected Cullen’s eyes, pulling back his eyelid in order to get a better look.

Though the tent was dark, the light that seeped into his forced-open eye was enough to make his stomach roll. He felt his entire midsection tense and turned onto his side in time to vomit over the edge of the cot. 

“Someone get me a bucket of cold water and some rags,” the physician shouted, not looking to see who would do as he’d instructed. To himself he muttered, “We need to bring that fever down before I can do anything else.”

Cullen coughed. His stomach was still uneasy, the desire to upheave whatever was left was a constant nagging that he could feel in his throat. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was bone dry. Muscles ached, bones ached, everything was in pain and he knew in his gut that only one thing would make it stop. 

His voice was hoarse when he tried to speak. “Ly-“ was all he could say before the scratch in his throat made him cough again. After swallowing hard to loosen his throat, he tried again. “Lyrium. I need lyrium.”

From beside his cot, Ophelia stated, “I have to inform Sister Nightingale and Lady Montilyet of his condition.” She squeezed his hand and promised to return before leaving his side in pursuit of the other advisors. 

“You,” the physician addressed one of the Hunt Masters. “Make yourself useful and help me remove his armor. And where’s that bucket of water I asked for?!”

~*~

Blackness was filled with the a thousand whispers, each voice too far to hear but close enough to send a chill down her spine. The words were distant but their intent was clear. Listen, they breathed, their words felt more than understood. 

The rap on the door startled Delani from her thoughts. She looked up from the paperwork scattered atop the desk she was hunched over, to the banister railing the staircase to the shut chamber door.

“Garas,” she called, before returning her focus to the parchment covering her desk. 

Her hand went to her neck as she listened to her guest climb the steps to her quarters. Rubbing at the tightness bunched up where her neck met her shoulder, Delani rolled her head until she felt a bone pop and the crick give way. 

She hadn’t slept a wink the night prior, nor the one before that. Every time she shut her eyes she felt a pull inside of her. It was like someone, something, was beckoning her. The muffled voices of dead men whispered to her soul. When finally she’d felt the pull of sleep, images she couldn’t place made her restless. Memories that weren’t hers plagued her dreams, but were gone by the time she was conscious enough to try and remember.

Delani was tired, and sore, and had spent the entire night pouring over reports and maps. She needed to chart out where Corypheus would go following his defeat. Though she still hadn’t any idea how, she would defeat him once she found where he was, and knew that killing him would be easier if she knew where to find him. 

At the sound of footsteps nearing the top of the stairway, she glanced up from her papers. A head of finely groomed dark brown hair appeared behind the banister before the rest of Dorian stepped into view. There was a curious expression on his face as he regarded her. The question in his eyes was on his lips the moment that they made eye contact. 

“How are you feeling?”

She dropped her attention to her desk and shook her head. Without conviction she answered, “Emma sildeara’atisha, ma falon.”

Dorian took a few steps toward her desk, his hands held behind his back as he quietly inspected her. When he responded with another question she finally peered up to meet his concerned gaze. 

“You do know I can’t speak Elvish, don’t you?” Dorian quirked an eyebrow as her expression turned confused. He inspected her closely before commenting, “Talented though I am at a great many things, I’ve yet to learn your native tongue.”

She scrunched up her features, frowning at the mage. What game was he playing? Whatever it was, Delani hadn’t gotten enough sleep to have the patience for it. “Emma’din dirthen lahna’elvhen.”

He shook his head and shrugged, appearing genuinely confused by the words she’d spoken. Delani paused, her frown deepening. She thought back to the words she’d just said, listening to them in her mind.

Opening her mouth, she tried again, “Ar’din eolasa…” only to snap her mouth shut when she heard for herself the tongue in which she was speaking. 

The concern in Dorian’s expression deepened. He inspected her features, taking in the sight of her as though she were a riddle to be solved. “You didn’t even realize you were speaking Elvish did you?” He turned his head curiously, intrigue brightening his gaze. Almost to himself he muttered, “Could be a side effect of drinking from the Well. Interesting. What other effects may there be, I wonder?”

After a second of thought, Dorian snapped back into to focus and gestured with his thumb over his should as he suggested, “I can fetch Solas to play translator, if need be. He was pacing the atrium wanting to see you, but Cassandra insisted that he let you rest. I, of course, managed to sneak by her.”

Delani knew the words to respond to Dorian, the language she was supposed to use. But accessing that part of her mind took conscious effort. It was a struggle she had never faced before in her life. Rubbing her brow, she fought to put the words together in her mind then say them aloud. 

“There’s…” she bit out, wincing from the pain in her head. Through clenched teeth she finished, “no need, Dorian.”

With his eyebrows arched toward his hairline, the mage wondered, “Was that as painful as it looked?”

“Yes,” admitted Delani. She wiped away the sweat that had beaded along her brow with the effort. Now that the common tongue, and the ability to speak it, had become accessible to her again it weren’t as painful to remember. 

She shook her head in an attempt to dismiss the last of the residual pain gathered behind her forehead. Sighing, she refocused on the papers covering her desk and started to pick through them. Without looking up and the man across the room, she asked, “Did you need something, Dorian?”

“To see you,” he supplied, taking the last few strides to stand before Delani’s desk. When she didn’t look up to peer into his eyes, Dorian placed his hand on top of the parchment covered surface until she finally did. There was chastisement in his gaze as he regarded her. “I wanted to make sure that you were all right. You’ve slept for over two days—“

Another sigh pressed out of her and Delani shook her head, the gesture cutting him off mid-sentence. “I haven’t actually.” He raised an eyebrow and she was forced to explain. “Every time I close my eyes I hear these whispers, but I can’t understand what they’re saying. And when I do find sleep my dreams are filled with memories that are gone before I can think to remember them.”

His lips pulled with a frown. “You haven’t slept?”

She shook her head.

“At all?”

Her shoulders bounced with her shrug. 

Dorian pushed off of her desk and took a step back to get a proper look at her. Crossing his arms over his chest he commented, “Well that explains why you look like that.”

The scoff that burst from her was a welcome change from the earlier tension. 

He drummed his fingers against his arms, his lips pursed and eyes squinted as he thought. “If you haven’t been sleeping, then what have you been doing all this time?” Dorian shook his head in scolding, an inevitable reprimand soon to follow if she knew him well. And Delani liked to think that she did. 

“Holing up in your chambers like some kind of recluse while your friends worry about you. I swear you southerners have no manners at all.”

Delani rolled her eyes, not daring a response. She nodded down at the reports on her desk and explained, “I am trying to think of which dark hole Corypheus has crawled in to.”

Surprise widened Dorian’s features. “What makes you think that he’s left the Arbor Wilds at all? It’s only been three days since his defeat. Surely he couldn’t have gotten far.”

She shook her head and reminded him, “He has his dragon.” Delani picked up a few reports and started to leaf through them, skipping over the already memorized words as she tried to decipher a code known only to the millennia old magister. “Without the Well of Sorrows or the eluvian, he has no purpose to remain in the Wilds. And I doubt a bit of forest would delay him at all while astride the back of a dragon.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Though he appeared to still have his doubts. Looking up from the papers on her desk to hold her gaze again, Dorian’s expression was tight with inquiry when he asked, “But what could you hope to do if you managed find him? Our forces are still gathered in the Arbor Wilds and it will take time to march them elsewhere. There are countless places to hide. Were it possible to find him we would have done so sooner.”

Frustrated by the truth of Dorian’s words, Delani set the papers in her hands back on her desk. She conceded with a sighed, “You’re right, I know,” and started to rub the heels of her palms into her eyes. Delani dragged her hands down her face with the groan. “I just want this war to be over.”

A scoff sounded from Dorian. “Don’t we all?” The corners of his mouth plucked with a smile and Dorian motioned for Delani to give him her hand. “Now come and sit a while. Just looking at you is making me exhausted.”

Another sigh expelled from Delani, but she found that she couldn’t refuse the man. She placed her smaller hand in his and allowed him to pull her from around her desk toward the love seat by the bannister. They sat together and Dorian leaned his arm on the sofa’s back, perching his temple in his palm as he watched Delani tuck her legs underneath her and curl into the cushions. 

“Have we received any word from the Wilds?”

Dorian shook his head. “None yet, though I expect it will be only a matter of time before we hear something.”

Just then a knock came from her door followed by a muffled, “Inquisitor Lavellan?”

At her instruction to enter, the footfalls of her visitor preluded the arrival of one of Leliana’s scouts. The messenger bowed at the waist and held up a roll of parchment paper in offering. “A missive from Sister Nightingale, Your Worship,” he explained in a respectful tone.

“Would you look at that,” said Dorian, looking pleased with himself. “Good looks and clairvoyance? I am Maker blessed indeed.”

Delani side-eyed the mage as she reached up for the message. “Thank you,” she said in dismissal before pulling off the thread securing the message shut and rolling it open. 

“What does it say?” Dorian asked before she could begin to read. 

“You’re the clairvoyant,” replied Delani with a smirk, “You tell me.”

Her smirk grew in response to Dorian’s unamused huff and she started to read Leliana’s message. Her smile waned as she skimmed over the words, her heart picking up speed with each one read. By the time she’d reached the end her heart was hammering in her ears, panic setting in like a stain on her soul. 

Having witnessed the horror steadily grow on Delani’s features, Dorian repeated his earlier question. “What does it say?”

“It’s Cullen,” she exhaled a shaky breath by way of explanation before shooting up off of the love seat and scouring her bedroom. She yanked a rucksack free from the wardrobe and stuffed it with traveling clothes before moving to the storage chest on the other side of the room. 

As she removed throwing knives, choice grenades, and added them to her backpack, Dorian read the missive she’d left behind on the seat of the sofa. “Red Lyrium,” he commented, surprised. “It says here that it was the smallest shard. How could it have had such an effect on the Commander?”

Delani shook her head, both in answer and to keep the building hysteric’s at bay. “I don’t know,” she supplied before confessing, “I don’t care. All I know is that I must go to him.”

She pulled her cloak around her shoulders and secured it shut. Without further acknowledging Dorian, she grabbed a tight hold of her pack and ran for the stairs that left her quarters before flying unseeingly down the steps into the Great Hall. Delani tore through the Keep, headed for the stables where she could saddle Cornelius and hurry back toward the Arbor Wilds. 

“Inquisitor Lavellan,” Dorian called behind her, quickly catching up with his much longer human legs. When she didn’t so much as slow down, he shouted, “Delani!”

Cassandra appeared from the garden and immediately noticed the two bombarding her way. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Cassandra widened her stance and hardened her expression. An eyebrow quirked and she demanded, “What is going on here?”

When Delani attempted to sidestep the Seeker and continue on her path, Cassandra uncrossed her arms and held one out to block Delani’s path. Delani almost grabbed Cassandra by the wrist and twisted her arm behind her back, forcing the warrior onto her knees so that she’d get out of Delani’s way. The only thing that stopped her were the dozens of eyes watching them and the fact that, when all of this was finally over, Cassandra would be Divine. 

“Get out of my way, Cassandra,” Delani growled the same moment that Dorian explained why they were racing through the Great Hall.

“The Commander is ill, suffering from lyrium withdrawals like never before.”

Still Cassandra wouldn’t allow Delani to pass. Through clenched teeth, she seethed, “I must go to him, Cassandra. Now. You’re wasting precious time.”

“Alone?” Cassandra challenged. “It’s a long and dangerous journey from Skyhold to the Arbor Wilds.”

“Faster traveled without another to slow me down,” she argued, her impatience a distant memory that she could hardly recall. 

“Safer traveled with a companion to have your back.”

Frustrated Delani balled her hands into tight fists and made an infuriated sound. She dragged in a breath, hoping that it would calm her, and glared up at the unimpressed woman standing before her. Lip curling back into a snarl Delani seethed, “Come with me then, if you wish. Prepare your things and saddle your horse. But I won’t wait for you. I need to go now, and nothing is going to stop me.”

A sigh expelled from Cassandra’s nose. She lowered her arm and stepped out of the way, turning with Delani so that she could keep pace beside her. They left the Great Hall and hurried down the steps, Dorian behind them as they headed to the stables. 

Glad to be moving again, Delani started to rattle off instructions that she hoped her companions would follow. “Send for Mia. I don’t care what it takes, just have her brought to Skyhold.”

Confused, Cassandra asked, “To what end?”

“The last time that Cullen endured this he did so alone.” Delani set her jaw and shook her head. “I will not allow that to happen again. He will know that he is loved and that his struggle has a purpose.”

Once they were on the lower courtyard they made quick work of the distance between them and the stables. As Delani prepared Cornelius for travel Cassandra instructed Dennet to prepare her horse as well. She and Dorian stepped out of the way when Delani led Cornelius from his stall and pulled herself up onto his back. 

She stared down at the two of them for a moment, Cornelius shuffling from hoof to hoof as he absorbed Delani’s urgency as his own. To Dorian she commanded, “Send word to Leliana that I am on my way.” At his nod and assurance that he’d take care of everything Delani moved her attention onto Cassandra. “Prepare your things and catch up if you can.”

“You won’t wait for me?”

“No,” said Delani in curt farewell. She kicked her heels into Cornelius’s sides and slapped his reins, sending the hart into a gallop. Tearing through the lower courtyard, they raced past Skyhold’s gates and into the unobstructed, frigid Frostback mountain air. 

Leaning in close to the hart’s neck, Delani prayed for her mount to hurry his pace. “Fly, Cornelius. Return me to him.”

Astute as he was to Delani’s moods, Cornelius huffed as though he’d understood her words and pushed forward faster. He would get her to Cullen as fast as he could. Delani only hoped that it would be fast enough. 

~*~

Agony. Everything was agony. His every breath, the air on his skin, every thread of the fabric of his being roared in pain, in want, in need of what was denied him. Such a simple solution to end his suffering, a quick fix that would make his pain nothing more than a distant memory. A drop of lyrium, that was all lit would take. A single drop and he would be free. 

Another wave of pain crashed over him, a tidal shove, like ocean water ravaging a mountainside, filled with fury, foaming at the mouth with desire. Cullen groaned past grit teeth, his hands clenched into tight fists that shook as he struggled to endure it. This was a pain greater than any he had ever known. His withdrawals had always been a torment, but never had his nightmares been so vivid, never had his mind been so fractured. 

He just wanted for it to be over. Cullen just wanted some blasted lyrium. 

Days had come and gone, uncounted save for the knowledge that with each new day his pain reached new heights. His condition had demanded immediate transport back to Skyhold so that he could be seen to by the physicians there. The quickest way there was by aravel, the halla pulled landship could cross a greater distance faster than any horse and carriage. But the jostling and constant movement was an additional stress his body simply refused to take. 

A giggling sounded right beside his ear and Cullen tensed up, holding his breath and praying that the torment would stop before it truly began. Another prayer unheard and unanswered. When would his suffering end?

Nails scraped over his shoulders and down his chest, the tips sharpened like talons and black as sin. Skin darker than the Void speckled over lavender, gold bracelets encrusted by purple gemstones clinked with the movement. A hot breath caressed Cullen’s neck. A husky voice filled with promise tickled his ear. 

“Oh how you suffer,” she purred, scratching her nails back up his chest so that she could squeeze his shoulders. Cullen clasped his eyes shut and prayed for her to be gone, but the feel of her warmth burned into him. “To be denied that which you want most, what you need most, surely it is killing you.”

Through clenched teeth he tried once more to banish her. “Leave me,” he growled, knowing that it would not be enough. It never was. 

She pushed off his shoulders and up from his ear. Rounding his bed she trailed a talon along his silhouette, sending disgusted shivers wracking through him. The horror came into view, a grin upon her luscious lips, revealing the sharpened teeth that flashed in the dim light. Flames of violet lapped from her scalp, dancing around a face that one might even call beautiful if blind to its evil.  Luminescent eyes were marbled black and magenta, glowing veins that gathered in the center and watched him intently. 

“Leave you?” she returned with a fluttering laugh. “But do you not desire solace now, in your greatest time of need?”

Cullen swallowed hard and looked away. He muttered, “Not from you,” and fought to steel his mind from her lure. 

She grabbed his chin and yanked his attention back onto her. “No?” she grinned, her fangs glistening in the light. Glowing purple eyes traced his mouth and she bit down on her lip before asking, “Then from who? The ones outside? The ones who deny you the very thing that will save your life?”

Ripping his chin from her grasp he tried again to rid himself of the demon. “Leave me, demon!”

Talons scraped down his neck until she had a firm grip on the base. The demon pressed down on his throat and laughed to herself before dragging her nails further down his chest. “How quickly you send me away,” she whined, pouting like a cat denied cream. 

“Have you already forgotten all the fun we had before?” Nails trailed down his chest and torso, the smoke of her voice thick in the air as she pulled loose the memories of the nightmare of his past. Grinning she recalled, “You, my prisoner, a slave to my whims and the wishes of the blood mages who’d summoned me. Don’t you remember, Commander, the fun we had?” 

Her grip found his crotch and she squeezed him with the familiarity of a lover. At Cullen’s abhorred grunt she purred, “Don’t you remember the desires they unleashed upon you?” With her hand still firmly grasping his manhood, she lowered her mouth to his ear and whispered, “Oh how you called for your Maker.”

His stomach threatened to upheave whatever contents he’d manage to swallow down. Bile was rising into his throat, climbing with the memories of the torments he'd faced. He’d been helpless then, forced to participate in the desires of others, a puppet to be played with, a toy to be broken; used, he’d looked into the eyes of the corrupt and they had demanded more. 

“Still you call for Him,” she stated, loosening her hold on his groin, lifting herself from beside his ear. Mercifully, she retrieved him from his thoughts. “And yet it was I that answered. I can give you what you need, Commander. I have the means to end your suffering, to protect your mind even from me. Just tell me that you desire it and it shall be yours.”

“No,” he ground out. “Never.”

She giggled. “Never? Oh how bold.” 

The demon floated around to the foot of the bed. Grabbing him by the ankles she pulled herself up onto the cot. Spine arched and hips swaying, she crawled like a cat up the cot, feeling every inch of him along the way. Her touch was repulsive, black, filthy with promises that would cost more than any person had to give. The feel of her against him caused his stomach to twist with each lingering contact. 

Cullen was going to be sick. 

“Get off of me,” he growled, ignoring the uneasiness in his stomach as he gripped the demon by the shoulders and shoved her away from him. At her amused giggling he seethed, “Be gone from my sight, demon. I want nothing that you could give me.”

She floated up, hovering feet above him like the looming clouds of a still-quiet thunderstorm. Her grin was plotting, thoughts and plans unraveling behind the luminescent glow of her black and magenta gaze. “Nothing?” she challenged with a smirk.

Licking her sharpened teeth, she turned her head to the side a bit and caressed her own body with a moan. “Even now it calls to you. That sweet lyrium song. I can feel your want, your desire, to give in to it. I can help Commander, if you’d only let me.”

Cullen climbed up onto his elbows and scowled at the demon hanging over him like an executioner’s blade. “The only thing I want is for you to leave my sight. The only thing I desire is for you to leave me.” With all his might and conviction he had in him he commanded, “Leave me!”

It was enough, at last, to banish her presence within the aravel. One moment she’d been hovering, waiting, preying right above him, and the next she was gone, like she’d never been there to begin with. Perhaps she hadn’t been. It would not have been his first waking dream, a hallucination meant to torment him. Real or not the lure of her offer had been a struggle to ignore.

If another had made it he would have accepted, and was in too much pain to feel shamed by that fact.

The ever-present ache in his head surged through him with renewed vigor and Cullen fell back into the cot with a groan. He stared up at the aravel’s cloth ceiling, secured to wooden ribs and reinforced by panels that lined the land-ship’s walls. Daylight bled through a ventilation opening in fabric, making the spacious interior visible. It was far superior to any wagon the Inquisition could have put together, comfortable and safe, and still Cullen felt trapped.

He was a vessel of unending pain, of mental suffering and physical anguish. Cullen was a prisoner in his own body. The only thing that promised him release was lyrium, and he was denied reprieve time and time again.

Cullen didn’t know how much longer he would be able to outlast his pain. If he did not get lyrium soon the agony of going without would likely kill him. He was sure of it; he could feel it in his bones.

~*~

A trip that would’ve normally taken a week was cut in half. Not only had Delani pushed Cornelius to the point of exhaustion, but the aravel transporting Cullen back to Skyhold traveled much faster than any horse-drawn wagon. She and Cassandra were able to meet the entourage part way. A mixture of Inquisition soldiers, and the Dalish hunters that were accompanying the aravel as an honor guard, came into view between the trees.

“There,” Cassandra shouted over the gallop of their mounts, needlessly pointing out the group they were riding up on. There was relief in her voice when she sighed, “We’ve made it.”

Without addressing Cassandra, Delani rode up to the envoy and dismounted from Cornelius before he could even come to a full stop. She passed his reins to the first Inquisition soldier that approached, paying no mind to either the hart’s disgruntled huff or the soldier’s terror widened eyes.

Leliana greeted her with a worried, “Inquisitor.”

Before she could say any more Delani demanded a report on Cullen’s condition, walking around the still moving aravel toward the entrance in the rear. “How is he?”

“Not good,” she supplied, lips pressed into a grim line when Delani glanced her way. “His fever comes and goes, and he’s in a lot of pain.”

Coming up short, Delani spun around to face Leliana. “Why is no one helping him,” she demanded, outraged.

“Because his suffering is mental,” answered another.

Delani peered around Leliana to find Hunt Master Naevys join their conversation with another elf beside her. She was dark skinned with long and unruly curly hair. Brown eyes regarded Delani with both sympathy and respect. Her vallaslin was observant of Sylaise and her staff marked her as her clan’s First.

She introduced herself and Analeah before returning to the topic of Cullen’s condition. “He has been suffering hallucinations and fever dreams. The lack of adequate rest has drained his body of energy, and his overworked mind is causing physical pain.”

Appearing truly apologetic, Analeah confessed, “Unfortunately there’s nothing that my magic can do.  I’ve tried to give him herbal treatments to help him sleep and deal with the pain, but he’s developed a tolerance.” She shook her head and shrugged, gesturing her own frustration with her inability to help things further. “At this point there’s nothing more that anyone can do beyond making him as comfortable as he can be, and offering our support and prayers. It’s up to the Commander to recover from this.”

It wasn’t enough. Delani pulled her lip back into a snarl and prepared to demand that the First do more to try. When Leliana gripped her by the bicep, keeping her from getting in the mage’s face, she ripped her arm from the SpyMaster’s grasp and turned back around. If they could offer no more help than their best wishes then Void take them all.

Her heart climbed higher into her throat with each step toward the aravel’s entrance. She couldn’t imagine the suffering Cullen was enduring, and she was at a loss as to how she could help. All Delani knew was that she would remain by his side through whatever came next. Hopefully it would be enough.

It was dark inside of the aravel and cool as air flowed through strategically placed flaps in the fabric. There was space enough for a cot, a small table and a seat, with some walking room to spare. Her gaze was immediately drawn to Cullen, buried under a pile of blankets and furs, with a sheen of sweat that glistened in the light streaming in through one of the open flaps. Even in the darkness she could tell that he was pale, a ghost of his former self as shivers wracked through him.

A breathless, “Cullen,” broke past her lips and his eyes shot toward her at the hushed sound.

His amber gaze was distrustful as he regarded her. “Delani,” he asked, his voice grated and hoarse. “Is that truly you?”

Her every instinct screamed for her to run to him, but she held herself back. Delani wanted to see Cullen and have him see her. He needed to be certain of her presence as she needed to be fully aware of his condition. “It is,” she answered, turning to the paper lantern hanging from the aravel’s support beam.

After lighting a match, she lit the lantern and turned to face Cullen again. Her heart broke at the sight of the man she loved. His lips were chapped, and his hair was damp with sweat. He shook, violent trembles stealing much needed energy and preventing him from finding proper rest.

“I’m here, Cullen,” she swore, finally cutting the small space between them. Delani sat down in the chair beside his cot and picked his hand up from his side. She pressed a dozen kisses to his knuckles before feeling his forehead with the back of her hand.

He was scorching hot to the touch, his fever still burning strong. Fighting a frown from taking her features, Delani forced herself to smile instead. She brushed back his wet curls and took in the sight of him. After clearing her throat, to ensure that her voice didn’t quiver, she asked, “How do you feel, vhenan’ara?”

A humorless laugh burst out of him and Cullen shook his head. “About as good as I look, I’d wager.”

“Not bad then,” she returned, her smile harder to force the longer she looked at him. “Because you’re as handsome as ever.”

Cullen squeezed her hand and Delani moved his hand from his bedside to her cheek. She nuzzled the back of his hand and kissed it again. Feeling the need to do something beyond show him affection, she twisted around and found that atop the table behind her was a pitcher of water that was kept cold by magic, a bowl, and a few rags.

Delani poured water into the bowl and soaked a rag. She wrung away most of the chilled liquid before wiping the sweat from Cullen’s brow and neck. Though she knew that she needed to help bring down his fever every time she touched the damp cloth to his brow her chest tightened at the sight of him trembling fiercely at the cold.

He watched her as she wiped away his sweat, soaked the rag, wrung it, and repeated the process. The pain he felt was evident in his eyes, in the lines in his skin, in the tremble of his exhausted body. Cullen was suffering, and all she could do was watch. 

Agony was evident in his bloodshot eyes. There was a plea in his gaze that broke her heart.

“Delani,” he murmured and grabbed her wrist when she moved to dab the cool rag over his forehead. Cullen’s eyes were wide with pain and fear when he said, “I need you to do something for me.”

She held his gaze and forced a smile onto her lips. Her heart was broken and in shambles, lost in the mess of knots that her stomach had tied itself in. Nodding, Delani replied, “Name it, vhenan’ara, and it is yours.”

Hope brightened in his eyes at her words. “Lyrium,” stated Cullen. “I need lyrium.”

Delani froze. Her eyes widened and her breath hitched with her shock. She shook her head and whispered a horrified, “Cullen, no,” as she peeled his fingers from her wrist.

Where there’d once been hope only frustration remained. Cullen threw his head back into the pillow and glared up at the aravel’s ceiling. An exasperated sigh pressed out through his nose, and he shook his head. Almost to himself he explained, “I need it.”

“No, Cullen, you don’t,” she argued, grabbing his hand in both of hers. Desperately holding his agitated gaze, Delani reminded him, “You’ve overcome this before—“

He snatched his hand from her grasp and shifted up the cot until he was sitting upright. Pain twisted his features, relentless torment that he was too tired to grapple with any longer. Glaring at Delani he assured her, “Not this. It has never been like this.”

Shaking her head, Delani tried to reason with him. “It’s the red lyrium, Cullen. The piece, small as it was, had enough contact with your blood to kick your addiction back up again.” She reached out to him, cupping his cheek in her hand. Thumbing over his cheekbone, Delani said, “You don’t need it.”

Cullen didn’t share her confidence. He moved his face from her hand and shook his head. Eyebrows were bent with ire and his lips were pressed into a hard, frustrated line. “I’m dying, Delani.”

“No, Cullen, you aren’t. If you just keep fighting—“

“Look at me!” he roared and Delani jumped in her seat at his volume. Cullen’s anger was stoked by his suffering, and he had held it in for so long that Delani’s denial of what he thought he needed broke what little control he’d had of it. His chest heaved as he maintained her gaze, his body shaking as a fresh wave of pain tore through him before the last had even faded. 

Through grit teeth he repeated, “Look at me, Delani.”

“I am.”

He shook his head. “But you aren’t seeing me.” Amber eyes moved from her down to his hands. Cullen stared at his shaking fingers. “This pain… it is like nothing I have ever felt before. It is a torment beyond your imagining. And it will kill me.”

There was certainty and desperation in his gaze when his focus moved from his hands to her eyes again. “I know how to make it stop. Please do not deny me the one thing that will end my suffering.”

Her already broken heart shattered further. It took everything she had to not bend to his will, and she felt cruel in her refusal. She could see in his eyes how fiercely he believed that this agony would be his undoing. But Delani knew that it was lyrium that would truly end him. He had gone so long without, had fought so hard to leave that part of himself in the past. If he took lyrium now it might end his suffering, but he would also be admitting defeat in a battle he’d waged against his former self. 

There was no way to be certain that lyrium would truly end his pain. It was a theory that his drug addled mind had concocted and could not shake. Red lyrium had destroyed months of recovery. Cullen was desperate, and in that desperation he was willing to forgo all of the time he’d spent freeing himself from the shackles of lyrium. He was willing to forget why he’d stopped taking it in the first place, if only to end the pain. 

Delani didn’t want to watch him suffer, but she wanted Cullen to hate himself even less. If she gave in to his wishes he would never forgive himself or her. He would be bound once more to addiction, to the past he’d fought so had to overcome. Only resentment could surely follow, and Delani couldn’t lose the only person she had left to a decision that was made in the throws of withdrawal. 

She held his gaze and gave him her answer. “No.”

Outraged at her refusal, Cullen buried his fingers in his hair and fisted tufts of it, pulling at the strands and growling in frustration. The torment he was enduring was evident in his every movement, in his every sound. Cullen just wanted it to be over and her denial meant that it never would be. 

“You are killing me, Delani,” he seethed. Eyes clasped tightly shut, he breathed jagged breaths and trembled against a cold that only he felt. “Slowly. Painfully. Is that what you want?”

Horrified by his accusation and the question that had followed, she gaped at him for a moment. How could he even think that? She shook her head. 

“Of course not, Cullen.” Delani placed her hand on his thigh and gently squeezed. Her voice was quiet when she corrected him, “I want you to overcome this. I want you to believe that you can do it without lyrium.”

“I can’t.”

“You can,” she insisted. “You’ve done it before.”

Cullen released his hair from his tightly clenched fingers and peered past his brow up at Delani. Amber eyes glowed with fear, magnified by the lantern’s light. “Not this,” murmured Cullen. “It’s never been like this. I’m not strong enough to overcome it this time.”

She was already shaking her head before he could voice his doubt to completion. She refused to believe that. Of the both of them Cullen was the strong one. He always had been. She’d relied on his strength time and time again, and he had never let her down before. He had carried her through her recovery from the ordeal with the Faceless Few. He had been her strength through the loss of her clan. Cullen was the strongest man she had ever met, he was the strongest person she knew. If anyone could get through this it was him. He had to believe that like she did. He had to know that he could do anything, even survive this. 

“You are strong enough, Cullen.” Delani was persistent, determined to make him believe in his own strength as she did. “You will make it through this.”

Misery gleamed in his eyes as he stared at her. Voice trembling with fear and doubt, he pleaded, “How?”

The same way that he had before. Delani turned away from him and moved to where his amor and clothes had been set aside. She rummaged through the articles until she found what she was searching for. Pulling free her father’s knife from where he kept it sheathed on his belt, she returned to Cullen’s side. 

Delani loosened the thin leather cord, garnished with his coin, from around her neck. Carefully she wrapped the strap around the hilt of her father’s knife and grabbed his hand. She pressed the handle into his grasp, the metal of the blade and coin shining in the lantern’s light from across the aravel.

Grabbing his other hand, Delani moved it to cover the one holding the knife. She met his confused gaze and explained her actions with a question. “How did you overcome the initial struggle of your withdrawals before?” She held his coin between her fingers and supplied, “With your faith.”

Her voice was filled with a level of certainty she didn’t feel. Delani had to believe in her words, she had to make Cullen believe in them too. “These objects have seen us through so much. They have reminded us of why we fight, why we endure, why were persevere. Your faith in your Maker gave you strength to fight before, to overcome. Call on Him now.”

His jaw clenched. Cullen’s gaze was skeptical. Ready to refuse, he sighed. “Delani, there’s no use.”

Closing her eyes, she recalled the words that would always mean more to him than they did to her. But it was not her faith that needed to be emboldened, it wasn’t she that needed to be reminded of his strength. Delani had always admired Cullen’s faith, his certainty in his Maker, and she was counting on that certainty now. 

Unsure of the exact wording, she staggered at the beginning. “Many are those who… who wander in sin, despairing that they are lost forever.” She could feel Cullen’s surprise as she quoted a passage from his holy book, and she continued despite it. “But the one who repents, who has faith unshaken by the darkness of the world, and boasts not, nor gloats over the misfortunes of the weak, but takes delight in the Maker’s law and creations, they shall know the peace of the Maker’s benediction.”

Finally she opened her eyes and looked up at Cullen. His mouth was slightly open with his surprise, his eyes wide as he regarded her. He closed and opened his mouth again, wanting to say something but struggling with the words. Delani shook her head, gesturing that the only words that mattered now where the ones that would give him the strength to fight. 

“The Light shall lead them safely through the paths of this world, and into the next,” she continued only for Cullen to pick up where she had stopped. 

“For they who trust in the Maker, fire is their water.” His grip tightened on the handle of her knife and he brought it closer to his chest. Holding her gaze, Cullen pressed on. “As the moth sees light and goes toward the flame, they should see fire and go toward the light. The veil holds no uncertainty for them, and they will know no fear of death, for the Maker shall be their beacon and their shield, their foundation and their sword.” 

Tears were in Cullen’s eyes now, wells so full that they fell with his blink. Gaping at her as if truly seeing her for the first time since her arrival, he whispered, “Delani.”

She lifted her chin and held his gaze. More certain now than she had ever been before, Delani assured him, “You will make it through this.” Placing her hand on top of both of his, she held him with a  promise, one that she would never break. “If you feel as though your strength isn’t enough then take mine. I won’t leave you, Cullen. I won’t give up on you. I have faith that you are strong enough to fight through this, and you have faith in your Maker to bolster that strength.”

“I,” he faltered for only a moment before clenching his teeth and setting his jaw. His nostrils flared with his deep breath and his spine straightened with resolve. When amber eyes met and held hers once more there was a determination in them that she had worried she would never see again. Voice hard and unwavering, he swore, “I will try.”

Delani shook her head in gesture that it wasn’t sufficient. “You will succeed.’

“If it takes everything I have left in me,” he agreed with a nod.

Tightening her hold on his hands, she added, “Then you will take all that I have in me, because it is already yours.”

With another deep breath, Cullen shut his eyes and summoned his faith and the strength he’d always found in it. “Oh Maker hear my cry: guide me through the blackest nights. Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked. Make me to rest in the warmest places…”

The struggle before them had only just begun, but they would fight and they would know victory because they proceeded now as they did in all things. Together.

Chapter Text

Sunlight poured through the treetop canopy in searching fingers of yellow. It caressed the forest floor, feeling the grass and fallen leaves, warming the soil with its radiance. The further they traveled the less leaves there were to obstruct the sun in her affection. Elevation thinned the forest and, even if they still had quite some distance to travel, it was clearer by the hour that soon the Frostback Mountains would overwhelm the surrounding forest with its might. Earth too tightly packed and too dense with rocks for roots to cut through the soil, air too thin for the greenery to make the attempt, it wouldn’t be long now before they broke through the treeline and stepped into the brisk scent of clean mountain air.

Birds sang to the daylight, flitting across tree branches as their harmonious choir filled the canopy. A breeze coasted between the trees, causing the branches to sway, the grass and leaves to rustle. Incorporeal wisps tousled the crimson strands of her hair. Delani tilted her head back, her eyes fluttering shut, and breathed in deeply. The position held for several heartbeats. She was crouched low to the ground, her eyes closed, her breaths deep and even. It was almost meditative, this quiet state she’d adopted.

Worry was a weight at the lead lined base of her gut. It sat, a knot the size of a walnut, heavy as iron against the lowest part of her stomach, dragging it down towards the earth below; further than even that. She hated being away from Cullen, especially now, but Analeah, the First of Clan Manahalam, had insisted that Delani go find elfroot. A tactic, she knew, to force Delani away from Cullen’s side for a little while, to force her out of the aravel and some clean air into her lungs.

Now, as she stooped low to the earth, picking through plants in search of elfroot, Delani couldn’t help the twinge of gratitude amidst all the concern coiling her gut. Every moment, both waking and sleeping, had been spent at Cullen’s side. She wouldn’t leave him. She couldn’t. Not while he was suffering and all that she could offer him was the continuance of her support. It didn’t feel like much, but it was all that she had to give. To be away from him now was uncomfortable, even if she’d allowed herself to be convinced that it was necessary.

It was difficult to see him like this. Cullen was her pillar, her strength. So many times she’d doubted herself and her path and it was he who instilled the confidence to persevere. Now that it was her turn to carry that mantle, to be his strength for once. Delani feared that it wasn’t enough. She feared that she wasn’t enough.

Old insecuries crept up on her like unwanted lovers, pieces of her past that refused to stay there when she was sure she’d moved on to test the truth of her certainty. She sent those whispers of doubt away with a shake of her head. None of what was happening to Cullen was about her. Delani did not need to be enough, she simply needed to be there for him.

Stabbing her knife into the dirt, she wriggled the blade around a bit and excavated roots from the underbrush. A tangle of dirt covered spindles emerged from the ground. Delani gripped the plant by its base and tugged. Bit by bit the shrub pulled free, roots and all. Once it was fully removed from the earth, Delani went to work harvesting the eflroot. It was mindless work and she was happy for the distraction.

Daylight reflected off of the gleam of her blade. Her thoughts drifted, as they always did, to the man in possession of her heart. He was better, she thought. Well enough for her to be shooed from his side, if nothing else. The fever had broken and, with it, his trembling had also subsided. There was still pain locked within the threads of his muscle, squeezing down on him hard until his bones ached. Analeah’s diagnosis was dehydration and, with all the sweating of the last few days, Delani had no cause to argue with that prognosis.

It was why she was out here, scavenging the forest floor. While they had plenty of water, their reserves of elfroot were depleting by the day. Steeping the herb in boiling water had not only combated Cullen’s fever, but also helped a great deal with the pain. Delani had been plying him with tea since the moment she made it to his side, uncaring of his supposed tolerance to the treatment.

Shoving her pouch full of tangled root, Delani gave her surroundings a cursory once over. There were more shrubs scattered throughout the greenery, though none that were particularly useful. On a sigh she wiped the dirt from her blade before it slid into the sheath on her belt. She stood from her crouch, ears twitching with the skittering of small mammals, the fluttering of birds, and the rustle of tree branches swaying with the breeze.

Behind her, Cornelius hooved at the leaf strewn forest floor. A huff from the beast drew her gaze back onto him. He dipped his head, impatient, and Delani sighed in agreement. “You are absolutely right. We should go back.”

The hart had been grazing behind her, picking through twigs and leaves for delicious greens, but there were treats at the aravel. Treats like what he’d scented in her satchel, and had been refused all morning.

When Delani approached him she grabbed hold of his antler, careful to redirect the jerk of his head before he knocked her with one of the deadly tines. She reached blindly into her pouch, cooing at the hart while she fingered through the treated canvas and leather bag until she felt the cool, smooth surface of the fruit within.

She removed the apple with a quiet, “This should hold you over,” and held it in the center of her palm. Where it stayed for all of a second before it was eagerly snatched into Cornelius’ mouth. While he crunched on the fruit, Delani rounded to his side and grabbed the saddle by its horn. She hoisted herself onto his back, pat the side of his neck, then clicked her tongue with a kick of her heels that sent them on their way.

It wouldn’t be a long journey back to the aravel. Their venture into the woods had been prolonged by her foraging for elfroot. Without having to pick through the shrubbery for useful herbs and roots, their return was a straight shot absent any detours.

Heart heavy and constricted by nerves and uncertainty, what she had meant to be a casual pace through the forest quickly accelerated to a trot, then a gallop. They raced between the trees, spurred by her impatience to be near Cullen again, to see with her own eyes that he was well, to hold him to her and protect him from whatever demons plagued him still. In minutes they closed the distance separating them for their party. Cornelius broke through the treeline into a forest clearing north of where she’d last left them.

Leliana and Analeah were the first in sight, the former was scratching a quill to parchment while the latter emerged from the aravel’s interior with a basket of linen raised to her hip. Both turned to watch Delani’s approach, searching behind her for the source of the fire spurring her toward them. Analeah stood in front of the aravel, waiting for the last few yards to shrink between them to greet Delani.

Before she had the chance, Delani demanded, “Cullen?”

It was Leliana who answered, smiling softly. “He is well,” she assured him. “Walking. Well, bathing, actually.”

To Delani’s narrowed eyes, Analeah quickly supplied, “The stream east of here.” When Delani’s glare darkened, she assured her, “Cassandra is with him.”

She dismounted Cornelius then handed his reins to the mildly amused looking redhead. “Here. I promised him apples.” Advising Leliana to keep that promise was unnecessary. Few were unaware of his temperament, and Lady Nightingale was not counted among them.

Without waiting for her refusal, Delani left both Clan Manahalam’s First and the Spymaster to stare after her as she stomped into the woods after the man she loved.

~*~

The water was frigid, but blessedly so. Snow capped mountains stood greater than titans, yet even they bowed to the sun’s might. Ice melted under beams of daylight then gravity did the rest. Without rain in recent weeks the stream flowed lightly between the trees, a casual wend and wind that was thicker, more dangerous, during seasonal storms.

Now Cullen stood waist deep in a rush of icy water that washed the stench of sick and sweat from his surface. The frigidity pushed the tension from his muscles, sucking the ache from his bone marrow along with his body heat. He couldn’t be in the water long, but he was determined to make the most of what time he did have.

A bar of soap foamed between his fingers before the fragrance was worked into his chilled, wet skin. His arms, chest, and neck were lathered first, then he dunked the bar beneath the water’s surface to clean his groin before the stream washed away the suds. Adequately lathered, he dunked himself into the freezing stream. Fully submerged, his ears were full of the sound of rushing water that battered against him with cold urgency, a semi-forceful current that wanted to pull him away with it. It felt good to flex his muscles, to dig his toes into the river bed and resist the water’s tug. Cullen felt stronger than he had in days, weeks, a lifetime.

When he emerged again it was with a shake of his head that sent water spraying from his soaked curls. He pushed his hair back from his brow and turned toward the treeline, toward the shore where he left fresh clothes on a stone. Amber eyes searched the trees beyond the shore as the waterline receded down his body with his every step.

Though he couldn’t see the Seeker at the forest’s edge, he knew she wasn’t far. She, Leliana, Hunt Master Naevys, and Analeah had all urged him to stay with the aravel. It was only when he agreed to a chaperone that they’d let him go. He couldn’t say why he’d chosen Cassandra to accompany him to the stream, but there was something to be said for the safety he felt knowing she was close. There were bears in these woods, after all.

His teeth were chattering by the time he stepped onto the pebbled shore. Unaware of where Cassandra was, he cupped himself and shook his pants out of the square they’d been folded into. He turned and stepped into them, pulling the cotton up to his hips with a little effort against his still damp skin. Half naked, he sat atop the large stone and grabbed his boots from where he had left them beside it. Cullen’s gaze was on his surroundings, his attention divided between listening to the trill of wildlife as he watched daylight glint like diamonds off of the water’s surface. Maker preserve him. It was a truly beautiful day. Made infinitely more so by the absence of whispers filling his mind, his blood, with an impossible need that threatened to drive him mad if he fought it.

He swallowed hard and shut his eyes. When had he last been free of those voices, that urgency? Logic answered with weeks, but agony made time a meaningless measurement. Weeks or years, it was all the same to him. Cullen was just glad that the worst had passed.

A few tugs had his boot laces tight on his shin. Wiggling his toes, he reached for the shirt only to feel the hard shape of a knife hidden within the weave. A smile, small and affectionate, worked its way across his mouth as he pulled the knife from the shirt’s folds. He turned the sheath over in his hand as he stared down at its worn, leather wrapped handle. Warmth bloomed in his chest, a fire coming alive with crackling energy.

Somewhere dark and prideful in the back of his mind, he felt shame in Delani having seen him at such a low place. From their first meeting she had depended on his strength, even if neither of them had realized it at the time. She depended on him to be solid, certain, a confident voice of logic and strategy. What he had been these last days or weeks couldn’t have been further from that image. He had never wanted her to see him like that. A year ago the shame would have won. Now, after all that they had been through, all he felt was gratitude.

And love. Maker’s breath, so much love.

Ma atishan, he called her, not realizing even then how true the endearment was. How true it would be. Now he knew. In his bones, in his blood, in the fabric of his being, he knew that she was, and would always be, his safe place. His fierce protector. His most trusted confidante. Delani’s strength stood paramount when his buckled, her determination carried him forward when he could no longer carry himself. As he slid the hunting knife from its sheath and caught the daylight against the metal, there was no room in his heart for shame. Not when a tiny, crimson haired elf occupied the entirety of it.

Just as he was about to stand from his perch, the warm touch of calloused fingers grazed the cool skin of his shoulder and Cullen jolted in surprise of the contact. He peered over his shoulder to see that his thoughts had summoned the gorgeous woman in question. A smile eased its way across his mouth, pulling a chuckle up from his lungs with it.

“I was just thinking about you.”

“With or without clothes?”

“A gentleman never tells.”

There was no heat to the mischievous glint in her sea green eyes. Lust was eclipsed by concern. It was written all over her face, in the crease between her thick brows and the tightness of her smile. She combed her fingers through his damp hair, fighting a frown as she regarded him. Delani was worried.

“Ar’ea’eth, ma’atishan,” he assured her, removing her hand from where it had fallen to on his shoulder. He lifted her knuckles to his mouth and pressed a lingering kiss onto the warmth of her skin. “Ar’dir'vhen'an.”

Her smile was slow, hesitant. She observed him closely for several long seconds before she rounded the stone to stand before him. Circling her arms around his neck, she stood between his spread knees and silently stared down at him. Just as moments threatened to become minutes, some of the tension eased from Delani’s shoulders, a decision made, whatever it was.

“Did it help,” she wondered, her fingers toying with the hairs on his nape. “The bath, I mean.”

The hands on her hips glided around her body to hug her to his chest. His chin was on her sternum and he stared up at her with a smile he felt in the deepest parts of himself. “Tremendously,” Cullen answered, hugging her tighter to his chest. He moved his chin from her sternum to press his cheek against the soft cushions of her breasts. A sigh breezed out of his nostrils, slow and content. “I finally feel more like myself.”

Her arms around his neck pulled him flush against her. Delani kissed the top of his head and she nuzzled the drying curls, murmuring, “Praise the gods.”

The corners of his mouth curled tighter, his smile growing. Though her pantheon was numerous, it was the Maker she had turned to throughout his recovery. The shemlan god was the one she’d entrusted him with. Even now he sometimes thought it was his fever addled mind playing tricks on him. But he remembered how she sat with him through the worst of his withdrawals, how she held his hand and recited the Chant of Light with him until the shaking subsided or sleep took hold of him.

They were words he hadn’t expected her to know, much less intone without reference. But that she did, and had… Cullen had no words. The words were said between them enough times by now for him to be well aware of their truth, but steel spun certainty solidified to diamond. Delani Lavellan loved him. He hadn’t doubted it before, and never would so long as he lived.

“On the topic of gods,” he started, loosening his arms around her waist to pull back and peer up at her too stunning face. “Where did you learn the Chant of Light?”

She smiled softly at him, staring instead of answering. “Mother Giselle,” she supplied after a while, before explaining, “She gave me a copy months ago. I wanted to surprise you.”

“You did.”

“I wish it had been differently, but,” she shrugged, allowing the statement to float away unfinished, caught on a phantom wind. Arms unwound from his neck, dragging over his shoulders and up to his jaw. The pad of her thumb brushed over his lips, starting with the bottom, then the top before lingering on the line of his scar. When a sigh expelled from her nostrils it was followed by the question, “How are you, vhenan’ara, truly?”

Pain chose that exact moment to spear through his skull, forcing his eyelids shut and a subtle wince onto his features. The ache throbbed in time with his heartbeat for several palpitations before it faded to a heat at that pushed into the backs of his eyes. Cullen's eyelids parted again to find Delani’s expression tight with worry. Since easing her concern would be to lie to her face, he decided on the truth.

“Better than I have been,” he admitted with a reassuring smile meant to assuage some of the distress in her eyes. Turning his face, a kiss was pressed to the center of her palm. He lifted his hand from her hip and returned her warm touch to his cheek. He held the calloused warmth against his face, confessing, “I still ache all over, my head especially. But it’s better now, less frequent. It feels good to be out of the aravel and moving.”

Word by word her pinched expression warmed. Disquiet was still a shadow in her emerald sunrise gaze, but it was secondary to the relief. With his face cupped between her hands, Delani leaned forward and brought her lips to his. The kiss was gentle at first, a reassurance in its own right, not meant for him, but for her. Not seconds into the kiss and pressure built behind the connection. Need poured from her lips to his. Cullen’s arms were tight around her waist once more, and he pulled her down into his lap, her legs straddling his hips as her lips parted in invitation.

There was something incredibly necessary about the kiss, a demanding reclamation that had his heartbeat sparking fire onto the kindling of his blood. Though her venture into the forest to scavenge elfroot had been the first time she’d left his side in days, it was their exploring tongues and entangled limbs that filled them both with much needed reassurance.

Even amidst the torture of his withdrawal, he had not been without her touch. Her smaller hands had squeezed his, pressing his blanched knuckles to her lips as she kissed his crushing hold on her. Those lips, her touch, they’d been a tether in a raging sea of blackness. Waves of pain had crashed against his body, tearing his mind into its depth with a riptide he had been helpless against. It was her touch, her presence that kept him anchored during the storm. Battered in beaten by his own mind and body, Delani’s touch was the lighthouse that guided him home.

He had not been without her affection, but it was different when his moods had more peaks and valleys than the Frostbacks. There was a disconnect between heart and mind when his body and mind were at war. Though he could feel her, his duress had been too great to truly feel her with him.

A tempest beaten ship can not appreciate the anchor secured to the ocean floor. When morning breaks apart grey skies a rattled and broken ship has the anchor to thank for not being lost at sea.

As his tongue twirled with hers, dipping and chasing as he explored her mouth with the hunger of a starved man, Cullen wanted nothing more than to thank his anchor. He fisted the fabric of her tunic, hugging her too him with one arm while the other grabbed hold of her hip and pull her pelvis flush against him. A groan rumbled up from the pit of his lungs to be devoured by her desperate exploration of his mouth.

Her hands were all over him. In his hair, on his jaw, clawing at the bare skin of his back, she touched him with the same primal sort of vehemence he felt clawing open his chest to bare his soul to her. Delani kissed him as though she had feared she might never again, as if he had been lost to her despite her refusal to leave his side.

Gratitude, immeasurable and infinite, poured from his mouth to hers. Relief, indescribable and depthless, radiated from her touch into his skin. Now they knew, without fear or doubt, that they had each other, that they were together, that though the journey before them remained long and trying, they would see it through as one.

Too soon the pain of his screaming lungs forced him to come up for air. Their lips parted but they remained pressed together, her brow touching his as they both caught their breaths. Into sliver of space between their lips, he whispered, “I love you,” only to have the words stolen by a kiss that pulled what oxygen his lungs had managed to contain.

Her incisors released his bottom lip and a dozen more kisses were scattered over his face, on his eyelids, cheeks, the tip of his nose, which was then nuzzled by her own. “I love you, too,” murmured Delani, her eyelids shut while she held his face between hers.

The heat between them became a different kind of consuming, no longer desperate and hungry. Now it was enveloping, comforting, a hearthfire that welcomed him home with a restful beckon. He embraced the elfen woman in his lap, nuzzling his nose into her cheek before his lips took its place. In that moment there was peace, certainty, a stillness in which he knew that everything would fall into place. The war, their lives, their future, it would all work out the way it was meant to. He did not fear tomorrow, and he did not fear his demons, and that was thanks in no small part to the woman astride his lap.

There was a smile on Delani’s lips when his eyes fluttered open. It was small and quiet, content like he hadn’t seen in a good long while. She scratched her nails through the coarse hairs covering his jaw, her smile growing at the scrape of scruff on her fingers. “Commander, I do believe it may be time for a shave.”

Smiling in turn, he rumbled, “Do you?” before he scrubbed his face against hers, earning a laugh from the auburn haired elf trying to flee his assault.

Her laughter was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, harmonious as Chantry bells, as spirited as her most treasured hart. The sound of it pulled a chuckle from his chest and a grin onto his lips. When she pulled away he followed her movements, determined to tickle her face with the bristles of his short, unkempt beard.

When he finally pulled back to watch how her eyes glittered, Cullen said, “I thought I could grow it out. Blackwall and I could start a club. The man does have some glorious facial hair, after all.”

Her replying laugh was derisive. “He keeps snacks in there, you know. Days old sweetroll crumbs is not not my idea of glorious.”

“You lack vision, my love.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. With her hands on his shoulders, Delani pushed herself from his lap to stand in front of him once more. Tucking a knuckle under his chin, she tilted his face up into a quick kiss that was too short for his liking, then backed away from his reach. The hunting knife was scooped up from where it had fallen, along with the bar of soap he’d taken with him into the stream. Grabbing hold of his discarded, sweat stained shirt, she whipped it over her shoulder with a smile.

“How about a shave, vhenan’ara?”

His smile was involuntary, impossible to hold back so he didn’t bother trying. “I would love one, ma atishan.” Joke though he might, Delani knew him well. He felt most like himself, put together and confident, the day after a clean shave. The current length of his beard might have been acceptable if it weren’t his neglected personal hygiene that had grown it out. Cullen didn’t need a shave, he wanted one.

“You know what you’re doing with that thing?”

Delani waggled her eyebrows.

“That’s not an answer, Inquisitor.”

“Don’t you trust me, Commander?”

“With my life.”

She grinned. “Let’s hope it does not come to that.” The hunting knife left its sheath.

“Yes.” Cullen returned her grin. “Let's.”

~*~

“Creators.”

Analeah’s breathless voice drew Delani’s gaze from the blond atop Cornelius’ back. Though his ears had wagged in displeasure, joined by disgruntled huffs that plumed like smoke from his nostrils, Cornelius had not refused Cullen. He had stood stock still as the Commander grabbed hold of his saddle horn, slid his boot into the sturrup, and hoisted himself onto the hart’s back. Once settled, he hadn’t bucked or kicked either. The irascible mount heeded his rider’s every command. Albeit after a moment of consideration but, taking into account his distaste of anyone who wasn’t Delani, delayed obedience was better than being trampled and gored.

Feeling well enough to ride, Cullen didn’t want to arrive at Skyhold in the back of an aravel. No doubt word of his collapse had circulated the Keep enough times for the truth to be lost amid exaggeration and speculation. It was important to him that his men see him. That they see his strength, resilience, determination, and trust that not only would he continue to command them, but he would lead them as well. From the front lines. Without fear or hesitation.

Corypheus’ forces had not felled him. They would not fell any of them.

Cassandra had offered her horse for him to ride, but Delani had asked Cornelius if he would allow Cullen astride his back. She had expected him to refuse her. That he hadn’t meant more to her than she could say. The bushels of apples in his future were beyond number.

Delani had to admit, seeing Cullen atop Cornelius was an impressive sight. One that she hadn’t been able to look away from until the First beside her cursed under her breath.

Glancing sidelong at Analeah, Delani inspected her quickly for injury or discomfort. What she found instead was wide eyed amazement. She followed the First’s gaze onto the mountain peak on which Skyhold stood tall, and a smile eased its way onto her lips. It felt like a lifetime ago, but she remembered first laying eyes on the Keep she now called home. She must have looked exactly how Analeah looked now. The thought made her chuckle.

“You should see inside,” said Delani, pride coloring her tone as she regarded the not-so-far off fortress. “Skyhold has come a long way since the Inquisition claimed it.”

Analeah was still gaping, speechless. After several seconds she shook her head then looked over at Delani with the confession, “I’ve heard stories of Tarasyl'an Te'las, though the tales have been all but forgotten with time. I did not think I would ever see it with my own eyes.”

Whatever snarky rejoinder that came to mind was dismissed in favor of appreciating the view before them. It was a truly wondrous sight. Skyhold stood sentinel over the horizon, a lone guardian undaunted by snow, ice, or wind, alone and unafraid of climate or time. Eagerness to be behind those tall walls warmed her blood, the crackle of anticipation circulating fast through her veins. It would only be a few more hours now.

Turning her focus back onto the lovely elven woman beside her, Delani stared at Analeah for a long moment while she searched her mind for words that should have come easier considering how often she’d thought them. On a sigh, she moved her attention back onto Cullen. Delani watched how he swayed with Cornelius’ steps, his back straight and posture strong. These last few days had been as jagged as the Frostbacks, full of highs and lows. But, with each new day, there were more ups than downs. Cullen was recovering still, and would continue to do so far a while yet. However jagged the journey, she would walk it with him.

“I have yet to thank you.”

She felt Analeah’s inquisitive gaze fall onto her, a weight on her shoulders that Delani ignored so that she could continue to watch Cullen. “Thank me?”

Delani nodded, both in confirmation and to gesture the First’s attention onto the male astride Cornelius’ back. “For bringing him back. For all you’ve done for him, for us both.” With effort she pried her gaze from the Commander. A hand was placed on the other woman’s leg, just above her knee, and she stared into Analeah’s brown eyes. “You have done me a great service, and I will not forget it.”

A calloused and warm hand fell on top of hers, squeezing a dismissal that Delani could see in the First’s eyes. “It is you who have done a great service. Not just for my clan, but many who call the Wilds home. This,” she looked around them, a hand waving broadly at their travelling party, her gaze lingering on Cullen, “was the least I could do to repay that kindness, lethallan.”

“Be that as it may, thank you.”

Analeah squeezed her hand again, patting it twice before Delani was released from her hold. “You are most welcome.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Delani pushed her fingers into her mouth and whistled sharply, calling Cornelius to a stop.

Cullen’s head whipped around, a bemused stare cast her way as the hart held his ground, waiting. He watched with those sunlit honey eyes as the aravel was drawn up beside him. A click of his tongue and a whip of the reins coaxed Cornelius into keeping stride along side it.

“You called,” he said, teasing, a laugh a light in his eyes that touched the edges of his mouth.

She returned his smile with a mischievous one of her own. “I did,” purred Delani before tempering her expression. Unable to look away from the depthless pools of amber smiling back at her, she needed a moment to regather her thoughts. A hard blink refocused her. “Before we get home, there was something I needed to tell you.”

His eyebrow quirked and he needed no words for her to know exactly what he was thinking. ‘I’m not going to like this, am I?'  Delani’s shrug was unapologetic.

“I summoned your sister to Skyhold.” His eyes shot open and before he could give voice to the, You what? she saw detonating in his expression, she explained, “You are still recovering, vhenan’ara. The last time you experienced anything like this you did so alone. I cannot bear for you to do so again. Mia can help, she wants to help. I beg that you let her.”

His jaw worked in time with his thoughts. A muscle in his jaw feathered, irritated. She knew he’d be displeased about Mia, but it came from a place of pride that she had no patience for. Cullen had endured withdrawals before, had overcome them through the strength of his own determination and self discipline. But this time was different, and even he had to see that.

The seconds dragged into minutes and still Cullen had not said a word. He turned his gaze from Delani, eyes the horizon, watching the fortress as they neared with each hoof fall. After a good long while the weight of his exhale was carried away by a biting wind. He glanced at her again, looking resigned to his fate but also understanding, maybe even appreciative if she squinted just right.

“I am recovered enough, ma atishan,” he said, patient but playful too.

Her eyes narrowed at the hint of devilry crinkling the corners of his eyes. Slowly, cautiously, Delani mused, “Recovered enough for what exactly?”

Cullen’s grin surface and he wagged an eyebrow. With a motion of his head he gestured for her to jump onto Cornelius’ back behind him. “To fly us to Skyhold, my dear. So we might discuss your begging at length.”

Not two heartbeats passed before her smile matched his. Delani nodded a goodbye to Analeah beside her before balancing on the aravel’s bench. Neither the aravel nor Cornelius slowed, and Delani laughed as she launched herself from the landship onto the hart keeping pace beside it. Her arms wound around Cullen’s waist, holding him tight for balance and support while she settled in behind him.

A kiss was placed on his shoulder and she murmured into the insulated cloak, “Take me home, Commander.”

“With pleasure.”