"What's the status of our fortifications?" Leliana asked with a heavy sigh.

It had been two days and the Inquisitor was still not awake. Unlike her, Cullen had not slept for those forty-eight hours seeing to securing their base. The purplish bags under his eyes had not gone unnoticed by the other advisors, though he knew the three women purposely said nothing of it. They had all been through an ordeal the past week, beginning with the Inquisitor's intervention and ending in a red lyrium-fueled battle down in the Lower Courtyard. His left arm was in a sling, having been fractured by Aeron, stubbornly receding into his old habits of suffering rather than using magic to heal it. Despite this, just like after the loss at Haven, if he could stand, he could work which is about all he had been doing. The Dorian and surgeon had checked on him amidst his duties and his valet kept a hot pot of fresh coffee at the ready in his office at all times. To top it off his misery, preparations for Adamant had been suspended until the Inquisitor awoke and her health reassessed which resulted in a complete change in his timeline.

"The walls sustained minor damage, but the portcullis is a mess. Master Gatsi believes the whole lot of it needs to be replaced. Our carpenters are beginning work on it now, but it will be another week and a half before we have a gate." He pinched the bridge of his nose with his good hand, "Out of pure luck, a Sergeant of mine is a geologist by profession and claims the magma pool has cooled and is not dangerous. We'll have some workers start to level it tomorrow, so for now," turning to Josephine, "tell the nobles coming and going they'll just have to go around it. All in all, it could've been much worse." He placed his board down to take a sip of his coffee.

"I wish my report was as hopeful, but we have several small fires, so to speak, to put out," rarely was Josephine ever so grim. She sighed heavily as if wondering where to begin, "Firstly, I've tried my best to control the accounts of the battle being sent out by our visiting dignitaries and guests, but I'm afraid some are unflattering in their description of events. From her mock engagement to her murder of the Knight-Commander, I've had my hands full trying to spread an accurate account of all the information that was released at the trial. Unfortunately, this is the sort of news that the vultures salivate for and the false rumors and gossip are already out of hand."

"I have my agents intercepting what they can out of Skyhold. The ones stationed in the cities have also quelled what publications they could with rousing suspicion. Is there anything, rather anyone, you need help convincing of the truth in particular?" The Spymaster tilted her head like mischievous a cat.

"No Leilana, I do not think that will be necessary. For every ridiculous tale, there are at least two more glowing ones of her heroism." Josephine fussed over her notes, straightening all the edges and corners to exact precision, and he realized he had never seen matters weigh so heavily on her, "Many have sent prayers and some Chantries have held a vigil for her. News of the abuse she suffered in the Circle has garnered sympathy and empowered others -both mages and Templars alike - to voice their concerns over the Chantry's management, or lack thereof, of such serious incidents. Naturally, Lord Seeker Lucius has denounced the Inquisitor as an abomination that needs to be collared and fabricates her hatred of Templars." Taking a breath to slow the creeping frustration in her voice, she went on, "Additionally, Emperor Gaspard has strongly denounced all accounts that put her in an ill light, which has greatly aided my staff's efforts, and thanks to the Inquisitor's work in Ferelden, the people have more receptive of our story. With public opinion still so favorable, King Alistair and Queen Elissa have also made their support of the truth known."

"Lord Trevelyan tells me his family has played no small part in wielding their influence in the Free Marches," Cassandra added.

Lady Montilyet nodded earnestly, "Yes, forgive me, it slipped my mind. I'm just--"

"Overwhelmed. We understand, Ambassador." Cassandra's voice was solemn.

Cullen passed his coffee over to her, quirking an eyebrow in invitation. She hesitated looking at the mug but took a sip. As always, she was too polite to ever give offense and simply commented, "Commander, how do you drink it like this? Skyhold can afford sugar and cream enough to supply your coffee-drinking habits, I assure you."

He chuckled, "Too sweet."

"Says the man who pockets any unattended blueberry scones as breakfast is cleared," the Nightingale smiled knowingly at him, "don't think it has gone unseen."

He simply rolled his eyes playfully at her, "We all have our vices. At least everyone can agree mine is tasteful, unlike your obsession with gaudy shoes."

Before she could object, Cassandra butted in, "Can we bicker childishly later and get back to it."

Leliana leaned back turning to her, with a catty attitude, "Are we keeping you from something more pressing? Lord Trevelyan for instance?"

"Or reading Swords & Shields," the words accidentally popped out before his caffeinated-addled brain could rightfully stop it. He froze slowly moving his eyes up to meet her glare.

Cassandra's face flushed beet red as she stuttered, unable to vocalize her outrage. She let out a fiery breath and rubbed the back of her neck. "You two will pay," she growled out jabbing a finger at them both.

Leliana huffed, "Now who's being childish?" Despite the teasing, the slow smiles from the other three seemed to persuade the Seeker to join in their brief respite from the weight of their duties of late. Maker knows not one ounce of levity had been seen in the past few days anxiously awaiting any word on the Inquisitor's condition. The meals he had attended saw them all with their noses buried in reports or they left early to deal with an urgent matter due to taking on her duties. Evelyn's companions had even been uncharacteristically morose. The few times he had gotten over to the infirmary to check on her, there had always been at least two of them on hand sitting with her. Each time they asked if he'd like to sit with her, but he declined, asking instead for the latest update from Ilara and Vivienne.

He hadn't had the time to adequately process what happened between them. There were so many questions he needed answered by her. He was at such a loss at what to think and feel, only having felt this conflicted one other time in his life after leaving the Order. There was little doubt that she had spurned him solely due to Aeron's blackmailing, but he had gone through the loss of her and had believed for months that he was not enough for her. Those feelings were real, and they left their raw mark on his heart.

"How are you faring?" He did a double-take when he realized the Spymaster was speaking to him.

"I'll mend, in time for Adamant, not to worry," lifting his lame arm. The others had already started towards the door, while Leliana stayed behind, not hiding at all that she wanted to speak with him privately.

She shifted her weight to one hip and crossed her arms, "That is good news, but I was referring to up here." She prodded his forehead, then his chestplate, "And here. She saved your life."

He sighed heavily, "How would you feel? It's all my fault she'd laying there unconscious."

"That's not true. You know as well as I that she would've stepped in front of any one of us to take the blow, though I understand why you believe, in particular, it was because of your past relationship."

He stared at her like a sad Mabari, "And what of before, when I walked in on their dinner the night of his arrival, could I have done something then and ended it all before it began?"

"The man had thought of everything, I'll give him that. He even had the foresight that we'd put him to trial and planned an escape, seduced one of our own to help him, and managed to give her red lyrium, let alone smuggle it into Skyhold. I almost wish I had him as one of my agents. His talents were clearly wasted by the Order." She eyed him, apprising if her words had any effect, "But no, I don't believe you could've done anything without condemning the Inquisitor and the Enchanter to a fate worse than death. There were many reasons for her to keep it from us and endure such a man, all the while doing what was required of her. If she hadn't our mission in Orlais would've failed."

"How comforting that she has not suffered in vain," heavy sarcasm lacing his words. He rubbed a hand down his face, "Maker, the way she told me she was in pain… I've seen my share of death and torture, you know that, but hearing it from her…" he stared off, but she was quick to place a hand on his arm shaking him of the visions.

"I heard from Cassandra. It's not easy for any of us to see her go through this again. She'll need you when she wakes."

"I'm not sure I'm ready to be there like that for her again. She may have just been acting, but it was all real for me."

"I see. Well, as things are, it seems you have time to think about it. And Cullen," her voice could be sweet and soft when she needed it to be, "for the love of Andraste, get some rest before I have Varric pay you a visit with his special powder."

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When she woke up on the third day, anything that could be blown or banged to make tremendous noise was done just that for a quarter of an hour. As Skyhold celebrated, Evelyn spent that time coughing out whatever was still in her damaged lung and wheezing in unsteady breaths. Her throat was raw and her voice was raspy. Every inhale had a slight whistle to it, and she had to keep her breaths shallow, otherwise, she'd send herself straight into a coughing fit causing her an incredible amount of pain. She was on the first floor of the infirmary in her own private corner. The bright white linen partitions and sheets covering her were glaring compared to the dark stone walls. The air smelled clean with a hint of elfroot or some kind of light earthy scent.

Not fully aware yet, there were people in and out asking her all manner of questions, most notably Ilara, Vivienne, and Solas. Lying there in a daze, she listened as the mages explained her condition to her advisors and companions. "Her state is still unstable. Despite our best efforts, there is still fluid in her lungs and thus a risk of inflammation. The organ has been mended, but it will take time for it to strengthen on its own, the same goes for her bones," Vivienne started.

" Now that she is awake, we will be able to speed up the healing process as she will help us by pointing out the areas of pain that we cannot see,” Ilara's voice sounded tired, no doubt from fussing endlessly over her. The thought brought her no small amount of guilt. "The red lyrium, thanks to the Seeker and Templars, has been out of her system for several days now, having expertly purged her without rendering her unconscious."

"And the mark," Solas added, "has becalmed. But... it has grown. I suspect it happened when the red lyrium tried to use the anchor."

"What of her magic? Do we know has that has been affected yet?" Cassandra's steady tone was laced with concern. Wondering now the same now, she touched her mana finding everything surprisingly fine.

"I--" her voice was just a squeak, "I--" The curtain opened and it revealed a room packed to the brim. The weight of their stares hit her hard as she analyzed their expressions and the harmony of various greetings.

"Hey, Blaze!" Varric called, "It's about time we were getting bored without you!"

"Quizzy! You look... eww!" Sera scrunched up her face, "Well, your hair looks great, yeah?"

Their eyes filled with mirth as she went to respond, but instead a wheeze and burning coughing fit took her. Immediately, the faces of her friends dropped into worried frowns immediately. The enchanters rushed to her, hands glowing at the ready. Owayne pushed in, and they gave him the job of bending her over the bed to cough out anything. When she was done her brother laid her back gently as she panted, closing her eyes tightly shut.

The two mages left the Trevelyan siblings and closed the partition, "Perhaps, she isn't ready for company quite yet, dears. Enchanter Ilara and I will send updates as we have them. For now, I suggest you all let her rest and… adjust to her injuries."

"We were set to leave for Adamant in a week. Is it safe to assume will have to postpone our departure?" The Commander's voice was soft, even though she knew the amount of work this injury was going to cause him.

"Most definitely, Commander. The best case is a two-week recovery, but I won't be able to tell you more until we start treatment and see how her body responds." Vivienne's words while hopeful, were not what he wanted to hear. In her mind's eye, she could see him running a hand through his hair huffing at the major delay of his operation.

After a copious amount of water, she was able to speak, asking what she missed. Her brother spoke of the aftermath and any information he had been privy to. "Did you write Father?"

"Of course, and I'll do so again today before our family descends on Skyhold bringing more trouble with them," Owayne rolled his eyes.

"To be fair, Mother truly had not known about Ryker. He had a gift for manipulation."

"Well, she does now and I've received nothing but silence from her. I believe, after hearing the news of what was said at the trial, she's a bit guilt-stricken."

"If any good has come of this, it's that she will never push another suitor on me again." She let her head fall back on the firm pillow, "Anything else I should know?" After a lengthy pause, she opened her eyes to find him giving her a sour look, "What is it?"

"Cullen told me you were seeing each other… secretly." Her jaw clenched and she held his eyes. "When he first began to voice his suspicions about Aeron, I simply thought it was because you were good friends, but after throwing him under the Druffalo at breakfast the morning of mother's departure, he fessed up."

"Well, as I'm sure you're aware, that isn't going on any longer since I thoroughly fucked that up." Her gaze fell away from him and a deep sadness settled on her face.

"I'm sorry little sis." A brief respite from his mood produced a smirk, "But for the record, I called it the moment I met him!"

"Yes, yes, congratulations. Can we please not speak of him," her voice softened back to a somber state towards the end.

"Sorry, I was just trying to lighten the mood."

"By talking about the single greatest depressing thing in my life at the moment? Great plan," she shook her head slowly.

"You still care for him then?"

"Of course. I had to break things off by Ryker's order. It was either I do it, or he would've, and of what you know now of the man, can you imagine what he would've done to Cullen?" She took another sip of water to fend off a cough, "I hurt him, and now I have to live with it." Her head fell back once more in exasperation, unable to even begin to conspire how she was to explain to Cullen why she said what she said.

"Well, from what I saw in the War Room that day and the days leading up to it, that seemed like a man who still cared." She felt like deep within her heart she knew that, but she had created an impassable rift that she felt he now questioned if it was worth crossing. Tears wet her eyes as she averted his gaze, hating crying in front of him. "Hey, hey," he said softly, "Cullen may be a thick-headed Ferelden, but he's perceptive. Just give him time to sort through his feelings. He's got the world on his shoulders with this Adamant thing. I think as his first offensive military operation he's adding extra pressure to himself not to fail."

"Trust me I know, and I'm yet again messing things up for him." She faced away from him feeling a bit sorry for herself.

Her brother leaned forward on his knees, "He's a big boy, and can handle himself. If it makes you feel better I'll get Cassandra's help and check in on him." She sighed and nodded, "You need to focus all your energy on healing, then you can worry about what comes next."

"I'll try."

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Her confinement to bed proved more interesting than she would've imagined, having nothing to do but talk with her friends. Normally, work or their current mission was too much of a distraction to properly sit and chat about what was occupying the bulk of their free time, but with that obstacle gone, it revealed a whole new side to many of them.

"I'm not sure wine is on my list of things I can have, Dorian."

"Pff, with how expensive this particular white is, it should have you up and dancing. What will a glass or two hurt? Who's about to even stop us?"

"Careful, or Ilara will come down here and beat your arse, or better yet, she'll have Henley do it."

"A punishment I wouldn't mind taking. That is a fine-looking specimen, and that is saying something coming from me."

"He certainly is--"

"Such high praise, Trevelyan! That would've earned you a back and shoulder massage at least when were on missions together in Ostwick. And you know I give the best massages."

She crossed her arms, "Oh, here we go. Now look what you've done." Preening like a peacock in the manliest way possible, Henley strode down the stairs. His tanned skin was a few shades lighter than Dorian's, but he had the same shade of hair just lightly peppered behind the ears. "Try not to trip on the ego leaking from your ears."

Dorian uncrossed his legs and sat up, "Am I sensing some history between the two of you? Secret forbidden trysts in the Circle sort of history?"

"It was never really a secret. We just never got caught."

"Henley!" She groaned, knowing Dorian would never leave until he squeezed all the juicy details he wanted from her.

"Pff, you could've done worse from that lot. There were some nasty blighters there. You're lucky I decided to tolerate your sooty musk."

"Get the fuck out, Byron! We were on the road, how was I to… ugh, never mind. Just 'cause you have the prettiest girl in Skyhold now, doesn't mean I have to put up with your sass. Remember, I'm still your boss and can send you to the arse end of Thedas! How does an extended tour in the Fallow Mire sound? We'll"

"Take it up my chain of command, Trevelyan. The Commander likes me too much. Speaking of which, I'm headed to see him now." The mere mention of him was like a stab to the gut each time.

"Ah, another handsome man, even if he's Ferelden. It seems Skyhold is collecting them, myself included." With a dramatic salute, Henley banged out the door. She shook her head after him, before meeting the Tevinter's cheeky gaze, "Spill it. All of it, mind you, or I'll just be here again when you wake up."

"Do you truly have nothing better to do?" She said beside herself. "Why don't you try and help Owayne woo Cassandra, make pigs fly, or do some other impossible task?"

He looked slyly at her from the corner of his eye, "I don't think your brother needs help anymore." They held each other's gaze as her eyes widened.

"You mean… Maker, and they didn't tell me! Let's talk about that!"

"Don't change the subject, my dear. You. Henley. Smut, no fluff. Go."

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"I have a bone to pick with you, dear tentmate." The look Evelyn was giving her made her balk back at her.

"And that is?" Cassandra’s sassy tone was paired with a raised eyebrow.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me?" She folded her hands in her lap looking up at her expectantly.

She narrowed her eyes at her, "You mean like, how Bull has been misusing Inquisition resources by launching Krem's knitted nugs out of the catapults?"

The Inquisitor sighed, trying to hold back a cough, "Try again."

"That Sera ran all of Josephine's smallclothes up the flagpole? Though I do believe some were Dorian's, it was difficult to tell."

Her hard expression broke and she began to laugh, though not enough to cause a fit, "What in Andraste's name goes on here when I'm incapacitated? You’ve all gone mad! But no, not that either."

Cassandra's brow knitted together as she tried to think of another thing to distract her, but having failed, she guilt fully came clean, "Alright, if you must know, I have begun to... welcome your brother's advances." She looked sheepishly up from under her brow.

"Was that truly so hard to admit?"

"Yes! I don't..." the Seeker threw her hands up as she searched for the words with cheeks flushed, "I haven't done this sort of thing in a long time, and frankly, wasn't planning to again."

"You mean to tell me Varric's smutty books were going to be the only form of romance you planned on having to sustain yourself for the rest of your days?"

She made a disgusted grunt, "Not... really. I don't know. I suppose I was just being stubborn."

"Like usual," she smiled teasingly at her friend. "For what it's worth, I'm happy for you both, as strange as it is. The two of you are like opposites."

She laughed lightly looking to the ceiling, "You're not wrong, but he's grown on me."

"You mean he wore you down," this time she heartily chuckled causing her chest to tickle. “We Trevelyans tend to do that. Seriously though, I sincerely believe you will be a good influence on him. Were you ever planning on telling me though? Dorian and his big mouth were the ones to spill it on me first."

Her scowl was back, "Dorian? Does he have nothing better to do than pry into everyone else's personal affairs?"

Remembering her most recent conversation with him she replied confidently, "No, he really doesn't."

She scooted her chair forward whispering, "And what about you, have you spoken with Cullen?"

She looked down fiddling her fingers, "No, but I don't think there is much to say. What I did is unforgivable and once his trust is broken, that's it, you don't get it back. I'm not sure if we can move past this." They shared a profound look of sorrow and she tried her best not to get choked up. She cleared her throat, "I'm not even sure I know how to broach the subject with him. I feel like I lost the ability to talk with him like we used to after having to be so cold and distant."

Cassandra reached out and held her hand with a gentle squeeze, "I'm sure you'll think of a way. Has he been to see you?"

A watery sheen coated her eyes, "Lar said he comes late at night after I'm given my sleeping draught. He just sits for a few minutes in silence then leaves. She’s been too afraid to say anything to him, not wanting to scare him off."

"Can you stay up until he arrives?"

She scoffed humorously, "No, you'd be surprised at the limitations of my authority in this part of Skyhold."

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When the Inquisitor was able to walk to her quarters, with the help of her brother and the mages, she was overjoyed to finally be out of bed. Though she was under orders to remain in her quarters to rest for another few days, she could at least do something other than gossip. Her desk had a small pile of work, no doubt missing several letters that her advisors were instead taking care of. Though her body still hurt, her mind was sharp, and she demonstrated such to her council that relinquished her work back to her happily.

With plans to leave for Adamant at the end of the following week, the Commander was beginning to ramp up preparations again to move the army out to the sandy wasteland. Almost every day there was a matter for them to discuss, and she tried to suppress her feelings of desiderium for the warmth they once shared. Conversations were conducted with efficient speed without frivolous small talk.

One day as he awaited her signature regarding a request for more resources from Emperor Gaspard, she could no longer ignore the awkwardness. Dipping her quill in her inkwell, the Inquisitor resolved in her mind to not let him go this time. Lost in thought and staring at one of the many items collected by her on her travels, she couldn't help but notice his hands were trembling resting on the arms of the chair across from her desk. After affixing her signature, she poured sand upon the page that soaked up any extra ink then folded it. Taking her gold stick of sealing wax and holding her finger to it, she cast a small flame, dripping the melted wax onto the open fold of the parchment. Blowing on the wax to cool it, she looked up again watching a subdued wince overtake his face… it was clear he was suffering a bout of lyrium withdrawal symptoms.

Even so, she was determined to speak with him. Pressing her seal into the wax, she passed the letter to him. As if he was trying to escape a horde of Orlesian nobles, he quickly stood planting one foot in the direction of her door. "Cullen, wait," she held the letter not letting it go forcing him to sit back down looking uncomfortable. She was no less nervous to speak of the heartbreak infusing their interactions. Having no better idea as to how to lead into it, Evelyn meekly admitted, "I'm not sure how to even begin to apologize to you for everything."

He sighed grimly with a hint of annoyance, then shook his head, "Don't." Hurt crept onto his face as he leaned back in the chair again, shielding his eyes with a gloved hand.

"What do you mean?" She was slightly confused.

He composed himself stoically, though didn't meet her eyes, "I've had time to consider the matter and..." His tone was worrisome, making her heart pick up its pace. "I think, whatever we were needs to be put aside for the good of the Inquisition." Her hopes sank at his words, despite knowing they could not simply pick up where they left off. She had gone over it many times in her head, but hearing the words from him was more painful than getting stabbed in the chest. "Our duty comes first, and as it stands, Adamant is going to be hard enough on us all."

As his wish to end their once-blooming relationship sunk in, she wondered why dramatically they had bothered to close the hole in her chest. They should've just let her bleed out, for whatever semblance of her heart was just destroyed. This is exactly why she never let things go too far with Henley. This was why she guarded her heart, because she knew once she gave it away it would belong to that man forever. Cullen had won it back at Haven and she foolishly allowed herself to hope for something more from life after the Inquisition.

Her mark sputtered some light and she viewed the magic eating away at her hand and wrist. Suddenly, she didn't care that it was killing her. At least then people could say she died in a service to Thedas, not of a broken heart.

"As you wish," her voice had an edge to it, not having much choice but to go along with what he needed. She had no right to suggest otherwise.

Cullen's amber eyes narrowed flicking up to hers finally, "You sound as though you disagree?"

She certainly did, but needed to tread carefully or risk pushing him too far away. He was glaring at her as if an enemy on the battlefield. "You don't want to hear what I have to say?"

"No, I don't. What would that change?" Cullen glared at her with exasperation. She opened her mouth to respond, but shut it, as he went on, "I lost you. For months I dealt with it, tried to accept it to be able to just see you every day without succumbing to grief as we worked. The only thing that kept me from the Void was my duty. Then you kissed me that night, making me almost say something I'm glad I didn't, especially after using me in your games of the nobility. The magic that you used on me, I might be able to forgive, but using me…" he angrily shook his head at her. Evelyn couldn't help the tears welling up in her chocolate eyes, even as she tried to stoke her rage instead as protection.

"I understand." Her anger wouldn't flare, leaving her only with profound sorrow.

Seeing her shrink into herself, he seemed to find an ounce of pity within himself, "We need to be able to work together as Inquisitor and Commander first and foremost." She simply nodded, not trusting her voice. "It would be unfair to give you any hope. We may find that we're better off apart, I don't know." It was a crushing blow. Her jaw clenched and she looked ahead to the fireplace trying to focus on not unraveling before him. She expected this, so why was it still so devastating? "I'm sorry it has to be this way." She pursed her lips together nodding. "I, um..."

"I think that will be all, Commander. Don't forget your letter." She slid it to him across the desk. He studied her before standing to leave. Her glassy eyes were directed away in pain, anger, and frustration. Her rational sense reminded her that he was the victim, not she, and yet, had she not just been tortured by a ghost from the past? Had agonized over every transgression she was forced to commit against him? Nearly died protecting him? Didn't she deserve a bit of sympathy? How could she communicate that to him without it becoming a contest as to who had suffered more?

As the door clanked shut, she found herself alone with her tormenting thoughts. The silence of the room was suffocating. In that moment, she allowed herself to feel sorry for herself for once. Throwing herself onto the bed, tears flowed like a bubbling brook and she hugged a pillow muffling her sobs. After some time, she sat there emotionally raw. That one word, duty, ate at her. It was the reason she suffered Ryker's blackmail and the only thing keeping her from losing Cullen. It was a bane and a blessing, and whether she liked it or not, looking at the anchor's pulsating glow, she was bound to its body and soul.

The expanded mark glared up at her as she studied the spread of it. The green was beginning to bleed into the veins of her wrist. Any hope of removing the mark or thinking that it wouldn't claim her was gone. Seeing it so entrenched within her skin, when it flared confronted her with her own mortality. Perhaps, Cullen was right, maybe it was better they separated before fate did it without remorse. Would it be easier for her to die than for this crusade?

The deep depression set into her chest again. It was an emptiness where all emotion and rational thought were lost. As soon as she'd think of something to keep her afloat, it sank into its dark depths. It was an indescribable loneliness to know no one understood her, not even Cullen now. Ilara may have suffered alongside her, but only endured half of it. She did not have the fire beaten out of her daily or forced to do anything against her will. As these spiraling thoughts consumed her for the entirety of the day, she began to wonder how she was going to get out of bed and face the world tomorrow. The Phoenix looked to the fire, the mirror image of her soul, trying to find some hope to help starve away the darkness overtaking her. Within the flames, one glaring word stuck out in her mind through the cacophony...

Duty.

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After a cheery breakfast, everyone was happy to see her up and about except the woman herself, the hour bell rang signaling the start of work. She and her advisors made their way slowly to the War Room at her pace. Entering the space free of Ryker's influence was freeing. There were no secrets to hide, no spies, no reason to watch her words, it was just as it had been. Sort of.

Naturally, Josephine couldn't let things begin without officially welcoming her back, to which the others wore relieved expressions as well, even the Commander. It seemed he was not wasting time resuming their strictly polite working relationship. After her meltdown the previous day, she reminded herself that like him, duty was her ultimate driving force as well. Unlike him, however, she also didn't have much of a choice since the explosion at the Conclave. Regardless, it kept the shadow of depression at bay and roused her from bed getting her this far.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Physically she ached and the stairs were proving to be the biggest obstacle, and of course, one couldn't go anywhere in Skyhold without running into a damn staircase. When asked about her health, she said as much adding, "I may need to have Bull on hand to carry me when my lungs can't take it."

"Adamant will pose the same challenges to you, I would suggest viewing it like training," Cullen's tone neutral.

"You're right, of course. I can't afford to get soft, Maker knows, I'll have a target painted on my back attracting every demon in that fortress to me. Now, let us start today by bringing me up to speed on the changes caused by the delay and the status of our forces." The biggest challenge was the estimation of how many Grey Wardens were now occupying Adamant Fortress. The Inquisition had shown their hand as the siege equipment was already en route. Had the army been in tow, Erimond wouldn't have had time to prepare. Knowing now that they were coming, assumingly if Commander Clarel had any sense left, she would've had another week to prepare the ancient stronghold for siege. With the element of surprise gone, the Inquisition would have to call up more men. Cullen had been busy adjusting the supplies to accommodate the extra battalions now having to join them. Not only that but a third of the force was sent ahead with the siege engines as an escort and would require additional resources before the arrival of the rest of the army. While she was unconscious, the Ambassador quickly sent word to Emperor Gaspard, who grateful to the Inquisition for taking on this foe alone within their borders, sent along the needed supplies and then some. Though it had been a logistical nightmare, the situation was well in hand.

"My agents have seen a massive rift situated in the center of the fortress. The reason has yet to be discovered, but I think we can assume that is where the demon army is spawning from," Leliana circled her finger around a few areas on the schematic of Adamant where the rift could be located based on the reports.

"Have any demons actually been spotted?" The Knight-Enchanter questioned. Demons didn't require the basic necessities of a normal army.

"Yes, and it is… not good."

"Wonderful." Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose, "Try and have them find out which have been summoned already. The more we know ahead of time the better we can prepare." The delay had cost them dearly, and it would be the rank and file who paid the ultimate price of her recent blunder. "I'd like copies of all the reports to go through on my desk before midday. If I have any questions, I'll come see you personally." The three nodded.

"One last note," Josephine tapped her quill for attention, "Arl Teagan will be arriving to discuss several trade agreements in two days. Originally, I had planned to entertain him myself with you all away on mission, but with the delay of the siege operation, we will host a formal dinner for him. I expect you all to attend and look presentable." The last word was punctuated toward the Commander, who did a double-take before rolling his eyes with an accompanying groan. "The Arl is the uncle of King Alistair, it would be an insult to not have the entirety of the advisory council in attendance if they are at home."

The Spymaster's gaze shot to the Inquisitor in a rare moment of concern, "Do you think is wise, Josie, to put Evelyn through their interrogations so soon? Perhaps, we say she is still recovering?" Her point was well-founded.

"The Inquisitor will have to face them eventually. Better it be at home than elsewhere." The Ambassador gazed at her with soft gray eyes watching her frown deepen, "I am sorry to do this to you, but here you will at least have us all at hand to assist with any issues that may arise. Perhaps, there is someone who can accompany you to look after your well-being?" Though she was looking down, from their shifting she knew they were giving the Commander a look.

Before he could, though not that he would have obliged them, she blurted out, "Sorin. I'd like him to be with me. He will keep me… level-headed. Plus, he's half-Ferelden."

"Very well, I will see to his preparation and attire."

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Up until Adamant, Evelyn dedicated herself to a rigorous training schedule in preparation for siege and to distract her from the emotional baggage she had accumulated over the past months. The abuse from Ryker had left her empty of emotions, finding little joy in life. It was hard to smile or show any feelings, and she hoped concentrating on herself and her duty would help her out of the depression.

Rising just before the first light, she jogged the ramparts until her lung burned. Waving to the guards and any of her friends who were in the midst of their 'walk of shame,' she became a common sight. Typically, she saw Sera, Bull, Dorian, or her brother slinking back from whatever hole they were sleeping their bender off in. As per the Commander's recommendation, she used the stairs, cutting through the Lower Courtyard, kicking up the permanent mud puddles that were unavoidable. Her heels would splatter it up the back of her breezy sleeveless shirt, as she worked up a lather. After, a short break for water, fruit, and a muffin, she headed straight to the training grounds before it became too crowded. She practiced her spells first, not wanting to conjure when there was a crowd about for obvious safety reasons. Towards the end she practiced with a staff and sword with whoever was around: Blackwall, Bull, Cassandra, Henley, Sorin, or Owayne. Blackwall had been hesitant since knocking her out the week before, but she assured him she'd not let it happen again. The Commander was right in that it would not do to hold back from training and each time she practiced she pushed herself harder despite her healing chest.

Occasionally, she'd duel some of the rank and file looking to prove themselves against their leader for bragging rights. Rylen was careful to officiate the spar and scold the soldiers if he thought they were getting too rough with her. The match always came with a morale boost for all involved and watching, even in the early hours before the real work began. With each new partner, she became more familiar with her soldiers. Their boisterous antics and taunting lightened the mood as the upcoming mission loomed before them - an operation that had just gotten immensely more dangerous. She enjoyed speaking with all the new faces having always tried to make herself accessible to her people regardless of her title. Throughout the day she was approached by those wishing to speak with her as they had after the fall of Haven. While waiting for food in the Great Hall, pursuing the market stalls, walking the garden, and of course, on the training grounds, usually there was always someone seeking an audience.

Many expressed views of her she had never expected to hear. Mages, Templars, nobles, commoners, and individuals of all races came with messages of praise and hope. It puzzled her as to how they could see such good in her after everything, especially when she had a hard time seeing it herself. They reassured her that they were behind her in the fight to come or they commented on her past abuses, them now having been published for all to read about thanks to the Ambassador. While she wasn't thrilled to have her personal history made so public, it had made her more human in the eyes of others as they shared their stories with her. With a sympathetic ear, she listened to their harrowing tales, some of which they had never told a soul about until having been emboldened to face their own demons as she had. Though she had enough on her own conscious, she found herself grasping their hands in support with a weary smile. They were hailed as courageous, resilient, and strong, which she used in her assessment of their fortitude.

Yet, despite all the new acquaintances and friendships found, there was still someone she sorely missed.

As her routine became clockwork, so did the Commander's, which worked seemingly to avoid her. Typically, she was finishing up by the time he began his warm-ups, always saying a polite greeting in passing. Cullen had always been an early riser, as before they had always beaten everyone else there in the morning. So, the fact that he was training so late - at least for his standards - could only mean he was purposely doing it. The only time she saw him was in the War Room or if they had work to discuss, which when able, he'd send one of his runners with messages or reports. Dining in the Great Hall was little more than just a change of scenery from his desk, bringing a stack of papers to read through avoiding all conversation. Evelyn tried her best to ignore his presence, but it only annoyed her to no end the effort he put into neglecting the situation.

Exhausted from suppressing her feelings, she put her petty stubbornness aside. She was going to feel what she was going to feel, why be ashamed of it? She was pining, as loathe as she was to admit it when she had tried so hard to cover it with rage. In quiet moments, her mind wandered to him, though the thoughts varied on the spectrum. On good nights, she dreamt of him with such concupiscence only to wake alone and unfulfilled. Sometimes she allowed herself to hope, especially when she'd catch him staring at her from across Skyhold. However, the light was often overshadowed by the growing void which festered in her heart. Jealousy was the dark's weapon of choice. Any woman in his company became the enemy, even though Cullen was not usually a flirt and always conducted himself professionally, doubt still ate at her. Besides the handful of people who knew about their past relationship, their soldiers and visitors had not a clue. Their flirtatious smiles and the gentle touches to his person were enough to bring her magic to pulse through her veins. It was maddening, and she had to catch herself at times before she did something juvenile just to get his attention.

Cole had been visiting her a lot, spewing her emotional state back at her as she groaned hiding her face in her hands. He only meant to help, but hearing her disgusting inner monologue put into words made her sick. Laden with rage, guilt, jealousy, and despair the ugly cryptic phrases didn't help change her mindset. On the board, you are the queen, and yet for all your power you have no moves left, so you overturn the board sacrificing it all to save them - to save him. Scars, so many, worn as punishment, but his cut to the bone. Time will not heal them, nor stitches or salve. The drink, no matter how strong, is easier to swallow than the fact that he may never come back. It was all bottled up inside, and no matter how hard she hit the practice dummy or how hot she allowed her mana to burn, nothing helped.

"E, you need to cool it," Sorin looked calmly at her, as her aura began overtaking them. "You're going to melt the caps off the Frostbacks soon." It was the night of the feast for Arl Teagan and Sorin had come to fetch her from her quarters. Josie had picked a ring velvet gown that hid the wounds on her chest. The neckline was straight and wide, hanging a few inches off the shoulders with tight long sleeves. It was form-fitting with a golden Inquisition sigil belt that draped off the curvature of her hips. Her hair was half-up in a coiled braid and a few long locks flowed down over her left shoulder.

She took a deep breath, "I can't help it, my balance is off. I need to let it out." The two were up in her quarters on the balcony. "Nothing is helping. Meditation, training, drinking... nothing! We leave for the Western Approach soon and I need to be... better."

"I know one thing, rather someone, who could make you feel better, but he's got his head so far up his arse--"

"Sorin, stop." Of all her companions, Sorin was the angriest with Cullen in his handling of the fallout. The others had their opinions but ultimately were staying out of it, even Dorian though she suspected he sympathized more with his regular chess partner. Sorin though was making it a point to snub the Commander whenever he had the chance, even if by standards his version of insults boarded on the passive side. He wasn't one to get overly emotional, but this had him fired up.

He huffed, "I don't see what his issue is. It wasn't your fault."

"It was my fault the minute I failed to kill that bloody whoreson back in Ostwick," her knuckles gripped the back of the lounge chair all but ripping the fabric. She turned to him with a grave look, "I used my magic on him, used him, and said terrible things like reasons why we couldn't be together. Andraste's pyre, he was thinking about marriage and I told him he didn't have the means to support me in any sense of the meaning! I ruined it… I ruined everything with those few words and lying to him."

"Ryker ruined it. Doesn't he know what you've been through? At what point going down the long list of transgressions against you does he stop and say, 'fuck, you know, I'm being an arsehole?' He's being selfish, E. He doesn't deserve you if he can't put aside his pride for your sake." Sorin was being protective, and she loved him for it, especially since the thought had crossed her mind before. She also knew he was seeing their relationship through a very narrow window.

Letting go of her tension, to ease his knowing they needed to leave, she simply squeezed his shoulder, "You look handsome by the way." Sorin looked dashing in his new tailored waistcoat and jacket for the dinner. Though the colors were dark, the velvety sheen added highlights to his toned lithe muscles.

"I don't think I've ever owned anything this fine, " he smoothed a hand down his sleeve. "At least I'll look like I fit in."

"That's why I asked for you tonight, I'll need my rock." He keeps her grounded amidst the sea of gossiping nobles. She was to be the Inquisitor tonight, someone the noble guests of Skyhold were dying to see. Between the crowd, politics, and gossip she was to deal with, she feared another meltdown in her state.

Her longtime companion was a calming presence and knew how to wrangle her rage, "I'm not afraid to ruffle some noble feathers if I have to if they decide to be dicks, seeing as I'm not one of them."

"Just don't do anything to make Josie mad, I've caused her enough trouble as is," her usual inner fire was low and somber despite her bleeding mana. "I just may need some help when asked about… Ryker. I trust you more than anyone to answer calmly."

"I get it. Short, plain answers."

"And no cursing."

He sighed, "Damn."

She laughed lightly, "That's it, get it all out now." She hooked arms with him, "And don't do that thing where you only give 'yes' or 'no' as an answer. I'm in no condition to save you from the big brawny Fereldens if you anger them."

Making their way down through the guest wing and into the garden, they took the long way to the front doors of the Great Hall. Josephine wanted a grand entrance for her and as such, she had to cross most of Skyhold to do it. Once they made it up the steep staircase, her soldiers opened the doors and everyone stood. Looking straight ahead, the only man she was interested in greeting was the Arl, as she scanned the crowd towards the head of her table.

Reaching the end of the Hall, Josephine commenced the dinner, taking over Evelyn's job of officially welcoming their guest. She stood beside the Ambassador as she explained that the Inquisitor could not over-tax her lungs, so the honor of welcoming the Arl fell to her. It was all ceremonially done, and upon her conclusion, Evelyn was at least "allowed" to motion for everyone to sit. Sorin pulled her chair out for her, as she took his hand to sit. He may not be nobility, but he had been around them enough to know the basics of etiquette. His seat was beside hers to the left tonight, as was the Ambassador then Commander. Leliana was seated down next to the Arl's guest since they both hailed from Orlais.

With everyone settled, she lifted a hand to her escort, "May I introduce my former apprentice and good friend, Knight-Enchanter Sorin Cyrus," the mage bowed slightly to the Arl and then to his lady.

"Pleasure, Knight-Enchanter." He had eyed their arm holding with scrutiny that she didn't appreciate when they had arrived. Why every man on her arm was always assumed to be a partner in some capacity amazed her even among the nobility. "Allow me to introduce Isolde, my late brother's widow."

The blonde Orlesian bowed her head slightly to her. Though aged, she was still quite a beauty with her large brown eyes and full lips that distracted away from the light wrinkles by her eyes. "Inquisitor, it is a pleasure. I'm surprised to see a man on your arm so soon after dispatching the last one. And a student of yours, no less." Her accent made it difficult to ascertain if it was an honest question or one of those passive-aggressive jabs the nobility honed as a weapon.

Evelyn's cold eyes shifted to Josephine who had already taken a breath in preparation for a quick retort, "The Knight-Enchanter is simply a close friend and ally. His mother was Ferelden born, and we thought you'd like to meet our Inquisitor's closest Ferelden companion." The two guests shared a look, the fairer one innocently rolling her eyes away. Evelyn fought the urge not to punch her in her pretty mouth, but a light squeeze from Sorin reigned in her death stare.

Teagan, watching the Herald all but snarl at his "guest," to which Evelyn said nothing, replied, "Of course," he continued changing the subject ever so eloquently, "I trust you are on the mend, Inquisitor?"

"I am, by the grace of Andraste."

"It's a shame to hear the news coming out of Adamant Fortress, I know the king is very eager to know what you plan to do?" She was surprised how quickly he dove into politics, having only just sat down.

"I plan to stop Corypheus from spawning a demon army that would overrun the South, Arl." Her tone was serious and determined.

"And what of the fate of the Wardens?"

"I am… unsure yet." That did not sit well with the Arl, who lowered a frown at her. "I hope to spare those that I can, but until we arrive and assess the situation, I cannot rightfully say." The man seemed to relax at that, "Please tell King Alistair and Queen Elissa, that I understand the importance of preserving the Grey Wardens. Some of us have not forgotten their heroism during the Fifth Blight. In fact, I plan to assault the fortress with two senior Wardens by my side, Warden Stroud and Warden Blackwall. I hope their presence will temper the Warden's fervor."

Teagan sat back looking visably reassured, "That will indeed ease their majesty's concern. The Wardens are every bit needed in peace as they are during Blights. It amazes me that some people have forgotten so quickly their sacrifice during the Fifth Blight. I am glad to hear you are not one of them, Your Worship." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cullen tense at its mention again.

"Agreed," she raised her glass clanking it with him solidifying their shared point. "Since we are talking business, I hear you have a mine you're willing to let the Inquisition use?"

After finishing his sip, he spoke to all of the advisory staff, "Yes, the only problem is that it is overrun by a band of renegades. They have caused no small amount of trouble in Redcliffe."

The Inquisitor shot a look over to the two advisors seated next to Sorin, "We will of course send aid, but might I inquire as to why our soldiers are required? What of the Knights of Redcliffe or Denerim's army?"

The Arl's lips smirked with a low chuckle, "Forgive me, Your Worship, your reputation proceeds you. I was warned that you were rather direct in your questioning."

"It's an innocent enough question, my Lord. Unless the answer is less so?"

"No, it's simply that with the Mage Rebellion making Ferelden its battleground, our forces are spread thin trying to keep innocents safe."

She didn't break her hard stare from him, "Commander, do you agree with that?" Before he could answer the Arl began to protest, but she cut him off, "Arl Teagan, I have a major offensive in the near future, in which the bulk of our forces will be needed. We are marching into Orlais, with the only aid from the Emperor being supplies. If I am to lend you men, I want to know if it is completely necessary. Our soldiers will not be used like a band of mercenaries by either country." Josephine looked as though she was ready to interrupt, but a quick sharp glance to her quelled her eagerness.

The graying man leaned on an elbow closer to her, a scowl creasing his features. Despite this, she didn't soften her demeanor, as his warm breath grazed her cheek smelling like fine wine, "In the wake of your placement of Emperor Gaspard on the throne, we've had to increase our military presence at the border." Evelyn looked to the Commander who had heard and gave a nod confirming his words, "Not to mention, we have the Inquisition on our doorstep with a growing army in a position to invade."

It was her turn to return the glare, though hers was a bit more refined, "Our mission is to bring Corypheus to justice for the death of Divine Justina and all those who died at the Conclave and for tearing a hole in the sky. Now, he threatens everyone by trying to weaken the South, as demonstrated at the peace talks when Celene's cousin stabbed her in his name." He was right, she was direct, but she believed it was for the best as not to be misunderstood on important matters, "As I am the only one who can seal rifts, I have used the Inquisition's resources to help stabilize regions across Thedas so we may strengthen the Veil by closing the rifts. As it happens, we have also been carrying such responsibilities out without Ferelden's aid aside from the nod that we could do so."

"That all sounds very noble, but what of the Inquisition when this is all done?"

"Then we disband."

"And you? Don't tell me you retire to a life of domesticity after amassing such wealth and power?"

She leaned even closer garnering a look from Isolde, her mana beginning to glow in her veins and ignite in her eyes, "You want the truth?" His eyes narrowed further on her, "I will most likely be dead, by my blessed mark by the end. A lot of good this wealth and power will do me then." She sat back taking a sip of her wine eyeing everyone with her mark placed in plain view. Their guests studied it, watching how the green when between pulses turned the veins of her hand black. The skin around it was irritated almost as if she had a rash or had been burned. Sorin's hardened glare was electrified by the omission as his hand flexed. The advisors all held an intense but neutral stare as their Inquisitor bore down on their guest. "Whatever the fate of the Inquisition, perhaps it's better I be by the Maker's side as I watch it be torn down by the likes of people such as yourself; those who fear what they do not understand, people, as a mage, I understand all too well. The only thing you need to comprehend is that everyone who calls Skyhold their home is fighting for all of Thedas, risking their lives, while you sneer and scheme against them." She turned to cough lightly into her linen napkin. Sorin placed a hand on her, and after placing the linen back on her lap, she met his eyes with a sigh. His subtle expression of concern forced her to back down.

Trying to bring back the palpable tension of the conversation, Josephine spoke up, "We are under the jurisdiction of The Divine. With her absence and until a new Divine is chosen, we operate under the laws set forth under her directive, sanctioned by Her Left and Right Hands. Ultimately, it will be up to the new Divine what happens to the Inquisition's resources once we complete our mission."

"So long as that is the plan, the king and queen will have no reason to take action."

"If I may," Leliana's lilt floated across the table, "if you recall, my Lord, I was with the two of them through the Fifth Blight, including the Battle of Denerim. I still correspond with Elissa, for she is a dear friend. As such, as you can imagine, we trade favors occasionally. If you fear our military strength, perhaps you should voice your concerns to your queen." The Spymaster's steely eyes sparkled with an edge despite her pleasant tone, "Unless the problem is that you have and you simply do not take her for her word? That doesn't sound like that is our failing, but yours if you do not trust the word of Andraste's Herald and that of your queen's."

"I'm quite aware of the nature of your relationship with our queen, as well as my nephew, though as to why they place such trust in your word, that of a former bard and current Spymaster, I will never know." He turned back to Evelyn looking tired of the arguing, "I apologize to you, Your Worship, if I gave offense, but as you are protective of the Inquisition, I am of Ferelden."

"Our Commander here is a born and raised Ferelden, as are many of our soldiers. I don't think they would take kindly if I decided to attack their home," she quickly added as their food had arrived being placed in front of them.

When the servants left, he continued, "Well, at least you had the good sense to recruit a Ferelden over an Orlesian." She expected a retort from Isolde, but she simply ignored it, unlike Leliana who blinked slowly at him a few times.

"That was hardly the reason, it was his extensive military experience that made Divine Justina appointed him." Evelyn stole a glance up at Cullen, who looked thoroughly uncomfortable knowing where the conversation was headed. Knowing he hated having to defend his commoner background to nobility, she changed the subject, "I suppose it's safe to assume then that you wouldn't mind meeting with the Commander to discuss plans to clear the mine before we depart for the Western Approach?"

"Not at all."

"Very good, the Ambassador here will set up the meeting. Now, if we're done with politics and business for the evening, shall we speak of something cheerier?" She peeked around him to Isolde, wanting nothing more to do but sit and eat while the others spoke, "How is Lord Connor's training coming along?"

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Later in the evening, after all the scheduled festivities of the night concluded, despite Sorin's best efforts, her injury finally caught up with her. She walked briskly away from the table before her coughing fit started, holding it entirely until she closed the door to her stairwell. Grabbing the railing she coughed for a solid few minutes and bent over until she was out of breath. Her chest hurt with each contraction of her lungs as she bent over hanging her head.

As she recovered, she couldn't help but hear an argument right outside her door. When it opened, she was surprised to hear a Ferelden intonation despite being inundated with them. "Inquisitor, are you alright? You looked distressed?" Why was it Cullen who always caught her at her worst moments? The man had a sixth sense for it. Now the arguing she heard made sense, for Sorin must've had words with him.

She coughed again and cleared her dry burning throat, "Fine, just trying to clear these bloody cobwebs from my lungs." Her ailment was a constant reminder of him - of Ryker. Everything she did of late was to clean up from the wreckage he caused while at Skyhold. Now she couldn't even be in the company of a friend without people assuming she was courting them. The frustration of it all hit her then, "Ryker is dead and somehow he's still managing to ruin everything - to ruin me and the Inquisition." Cullen's face softened, "How am I supposed to fight at Adamant like this? I can hardly make it through one dinner!” The end of her words were choked off by another cough. She rubbed her forehead beside herself, "He's never going to leave me in peace, he'll always be right here, in my head! I need something… I need more wine-- no, whiskey."

As she went to step past him, he halted her with a gentle hand around her waist. The simple touch, though meant for another purpose, made her knees weak as it glided across the middle of her soft dress, "No, I won't watch you drink yourself into a stupor over that man any longer." His face was stern, looking directly into her eyes, but his voice was all but a whisper, "Talk to me."

"A few days ago, you lacked any form of hope in resuming anything outside of a working relationship," she glared at him still angry over what was said, but the resolve in his amber orbs did not waver. She scoffed, "You're serious? After everything, you think we can?" She was shocked by his suggestion. Drinking may work for her brother, but it only served to make her numb, not resolve anything. The past months of just surviving Ryker had made her want for drink get out of hand. By midday, she usually had a bottle put away already after spending the morning listening to her mother and abuser scheme about wedding plans. Apparently, it didn't go unnoticed.

"We were friends once, and even before that two strangers in need of unburdening our minds. We... could try again? Talking, that is, nothing more." There was a hidden pain in his voice that threatened to shatter her heart - if there was anything left to break. The notion that he was willing to try and work past things gave her a spark of hope.

Letting go of her frustration and stubbornness, she tightly shut her eyes trying to shake her own hurt and depression, "I do need clarity and to face it, I suppose." She didn't want to seem too eager. "We are running out of time before we leave for Adamant. May I impose upon you as soon as two evenings from now? Truth be told, I'm not doing well, but I need at least a day to sort through my own thoughts before putting them into words." Her eyes drifted to the floor hating to show such weakness. Broken, battered, and somehow still standing, of her own accord, a single tear of self-pity rolled down her cheek.

Cullen's hand moved reflexively to wipe it, but he stopped short, squeezing it into a fist. With her eyes still cast downwards, she pretended she didn't notice and wiped it herself. "I-it's not too soon, you know where to find me."

A small smile tugged at her mouth as she sniffled, "Do you still like those spiced cookies, you know the hard ones that need a good dip in hot cider or they'll break a tooth?"

He shook his head at her, with a huff of an indignant laugh, "We haven't talked in months, not years. Not that much has changed."

She sighed heavily, partly mumbling, "Seems like years…" Before her mind tried to lose her memories, she blinked a few times shaking herself back to the present, "Anyway, I'll bring some. I fear it's going to take some time to sort through this mess."

"Good thing I don't sleep," he gave a half-hearted smile.

"E," Sorin popped his head in, "the Arl is retiring and wished to personally convey his thanks." He eyed the two of them in a way that she'd expect from her mother.

"Alright, if I must. Just means I can avoid them all day tomorrow before they leave." Without another word they headed back into the Great Hall to conclude her duties for the night, already feeling a bit lighter having made one step closer to repairing the gap between them.

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Evelyn woke up in a cold sweat. She was meeting with Cullen tonight to talk, but Maker where was she to start? What did she still wish to keep to herself? There were things she knew that would affect him, like that she almost slept with Ryker to prevent him from dosing him with red lyrium. Looking out her stained-glass windows, the first light was hidden behind the Frostbacks casting a hazy halo around the silhouettes. She placed her hands on her face groaning as to why she agreed to speak with him. Did she need to? Yes. Did she want to? Maybe. Did she want to see him? Yes. If she was going through with it she needed a plan.

Rolling out of bed, she resumed her daily routine, but as she finished her run making her way to the training grounds outside the walls, she noticed someone had beaten her there. Standing frozen despite her heavy panting that rose like smoke from a dragon, she observed the form as he worked through footwork drills. Having not seen her yet, she debated turning and running, but she had a cramp in her side and he was far too smart to not question the sudden change in her routine after all this time. Looking up to the Maker for strength, she let out a deep breath and made her way over to the practice armor and weapons her valet had readied for her - another reason she could not flee.

Ignoring each other while she outfitted herself, she walked over to the furthest training dummy from him to practice her spells. A 'good morning' was had in passing dispelling some of the tension but nothing more. It was an odd situation that he had created by being here so early. It was neither a recreational nor formal work environment, and suddenly it was as if she had forgotten how to act. She felt self-conscious like he was scrutinizing her every move. Why was he here? Was it because they would be resuming their therapy sessions? What was his game? He knew she was always here at this time. Running a hand through her damp hair hoping it looked-- No, Trevelyan. None of that. Her hand dropped awkwardly from her hair but not before pulling a piece from her messy ponytail with a few scattered braids. Ah, fuck it.

The Knight-Enchanter was not at the training grounds at the crack of dawn to make eyes at boys, she was there to increase her stamina for battle. With his presence serving as a moderate distraction and growing annoyance as she focused on calling forth her mana, she quickly began to draw too much of it. As her magic burned, bordering on excessive for training purposes, she looked at the target that was enchanted to absorb spells and fired off a stream of volcanic fire that not only overpowered the enchantment but killed the poor dummy. As the stuffed soldier has been reduced to nothing but ash, the pyromancer winced at her blunder.

"Inquisitor?"

"Ah!" Evelyn jumped having heard his voice only a few feet away from her. She sighed, "Sorry, I, um-- I guess they didn't enchant that dummy." Glancing without moving her head to the side, she saw the glowing rune resurface from beneath the ashes as a gust of wind kicked up. As her eyes shot back over, his eyes narrowed on her, clearly having seen it as well.

"You do know I inspect these dummies myself ever since Sera put bees in them?" As she tried to come up with a suitable response, his stern expression turned to one of slight bewilderment as his eyes flicked over to the strand of hair she had pulled into disarray. With a pout, she fade-stepped into the tree line, fixed her hair, then reappeared before him with a frown as if it never happened.

Having picked up the rune on her way back to him, she shoved it into his grasp, "Well, then get stronger enchantments, Commander." Her haughty attitude was all bluster, as he debated a retort, but having used his title to make it an official sort of conversation, all he could reply was 'Yes, Inquisitor.' Thoroughly thrown off, she was about to retreat again when a gaggle of recruits came trudging down to their location led by one of his Lieutenants. Both turned to face the crowd now blocking her path back to Skyhold as the reason for him being here stood plain as day before her.

Shifting her weight and chastising herself for believing Cullen had been because of her, she swallowed her pride, commenting flatly, "Apologies for encroaching upon your training time, Commander, and for making you short one training dummy." Striding away, she felt the ghost of his warm hand in passing as if he reached out for her, but she jerked it forward in step with her brisk strides. Donning the mask of the Inquisitor, she smiled to the soldiers in passing, lost in thought. He wouldn't have reached for her, who was she kidding? It was just another trick her mind was playing on her. How delusional she had been. Forgetting the rest of her routine, she needed to think quietly about their talk later.

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Darkness fell over the day, but it had barely registered in Cullen's mind as he focused on completing his work. For once, he had a standing appointment with the Inquisitor to allow her to unburden her mind of its horrors. All day she had acted oddly, from training in the morning to their afternoon War Room meeting, and if he was being honest, he was surprised he had held it together. Usually, he was the flustered mess, though he did have reservations about whether or not this was still a good idea. Signing one last requisition form for Quartermaster Morris, he sheathed his quill and sat back in his chair staring off into thought. He supposed he found it rather endearing the way she fretted about him when they bumped into each other when there was no work to discuss.

A small smile spread on his lips, however, it was quickly squashed at the memory of her betrayal. He felt the fool for all of it, but there was a complicated war going on in his head. Part of him wanted to cast her off and never speak again, like severing himself from a gangrenous limb. He could move on, complete his time as Commander of the Inquisition, then go home to South Reach and retire in obscurity never having to hear the name Trevelyan again. If he was lucky, the lack of lyrium would take his memories and he could live out his days in ignorant bliss mindlessly working the farm. He purpose would be solely to support his family, and at least then his life would still have meaning beyond the Inquisition.

Feeling for his lucky coin, he held it up in front of his eyes remembering Rosalie's face when she saw he still kept it after all these years. Then he remembered the only reason why he had rekindled communication with them…

The part of him that fought for Evelyn was like an itch inside he couldn't scratch. It was annoying, yet when he allowed it to blind his anger it was soothing on the verge of numbing as he lost himself in fantasies. In his futile attempt to persuade himself that she was just another woman who could in time perhaps be replaced, he ended up figuring out why she was so rooted in his heart despite being a mage and a noble. The first was the loyalty she commanded in those beneath her. Having been torn from her privileged life into one of Circle politics, she knew what it was like to have to earn respect, working for it even as people spat down on her. She didn't win it through bribes or favors but through hard work and dedication to serving the people of Thedas. Every single one of her companions would follow her to the Void and back, and that spoke volumes when considering the characters who made up her inner circle - himself included.

The second reason was that she was a kindred spirit, knowing the challenges they both faced daily due to their past trauma. Sometimes words weren't needed between them, only a look or gentle touch was enough to chase away the shadows. The night she had slept in bed beside him was the most peaceful slumber he had had in years. From her scent to the feel of her hands and body, it was an addicting remedy to his ailments. He had stubbornly tried to think of another woman, any woman who could distract him, but physical attractiveness only went so far before the yearning for a deeper emotional connection took hold. He wanted them to be like her, looking for similarities, but no one was like her. From the way she boldly spoke to how she moved, all fell woefully short of the mark.

He tried to blame his high standards on the fact that she was the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, and the Phoenix of Ostwick. For the vast majority of women in Thedas, even just owning one such title was rare, but Evelyn held three; two of which she earned herself and the other was one of circumstance when she stepped out of a rift. Was he so vain that he could not think of another woman purely because she was the most powerful one in all of Thedas? No, he determined it was not that. While she was all those things, she was Evelyn, the woman who walks through fire knowing that each day when she wakes it could be her last. She is selfless and strong, with unshakable morals and conviction. If you stood behind her, she’d protect you; beside her, she’d fight with you; but stand against her, and you probally weren’t getting up from that fight.

Her inner fire was unstoppable and beautiful when it pulsated through her veins. Even as he tried to repulse himself by thinking of her magic, nothing could touch the splendor of her wings. The tidal ripples of color as they burned then faded were unlike any mutation he had seen in all his years as a Templar. And lest he forget her sultry locks of brown and gold that made her stand out from the crowd. The day they had been intimate in her quarters sprung into his mind, remembering the way her silky hair fell from his fingers before grabbing her to kiss her…

There was a knock on his door. The same woman he had been musing on for the past few minutes poked her head in, her ponytail falling in off her shoulder, "Is now a good time?" He beckoned her in, and as before like it was only yesterday, she placed the tray of refreshments on his desk while he pulled over a chair to the side of his desk. Unsure of how to begin, she led by casually asking after him.

"If you don't mind, I'd rather not speak of myself," after his words, she looked to the floor rolling her lips in disappointment or frustration, it was hard to tell. Off to a rocky start already, when she looked back up to him, her expression rested somewhere between tears and wanting to rip his head off; he waited anxiously to see which it was. Her eyes bore into him but he didn't falter, unwilling to yield to her. She was searching for something from him, but her resolve soon faded and he watched her chest sink.

Suddenly, she stood with her fists clenched, "I see this was a mistake," spinning on a heel she rounded the chair with speed, fleeing for the door back to the Keep, "it was too soon!"

"Evelyn, wait," he was already around the opposite side of the desk before she reached the door. Having pulled the latch, she gave it a good yank, but his arm held it shut.

Stubbornly she pulled it two more times before growling. Her arms dropped to the side, but she refused to look at him, "Open the door." He didn’t move or say a word, making her face him, "Open the damn door!"

"No, go sit."

She huffed throwing her arms up in the air, "Why am I even here, Cullen? You want to talk, but then when asked a simple question, you throw it back in my face. I say I want to apologize, but you don't want me to. What is it you want from me?!" There was a wild and desperate look in her eyes, like a caged animal ready to bolt, but also one too afraid to do so. He didn't know how to answer her question. He had no idea what he wanted anymore, and somehow, he knew she didn't want to hear that. "Say something or I'll fade-step right through the door!"

Cullen blurted out the only thing that he wanted at the moment, "I don't want you to leave!" Her breathing began to slow, as she coughed a few times having excited herself. "Please, stay."

"Our conversations were never one-sided, Cullen." She was right, and perhaps his choice of words were not well chosen.

He sighed, "Then allow me to begin again." As she thought it over, he noticed how tired she looked. Her shoulders sagged and if her legs were as firmly planted on the ground as they were he'd think she was in danger of collapsing in a heap before him. Matters looked as if they were weighing heavier than usual, having lost her vibrant energy. He offered her his arm, but instead walked herself to the chair unassisted. Ignoring the snub, he once again sat, eyeing the assortment of cookies and the hot mugs of cider. "To answer your earlier question, I'll feel better once we're camped outside of Adamant and the trebuchets are hounding away at the gate." It was a cheap answer, and she knew it, but decided not to push it further.

The next hour passed incredibly slowly as both of them tried to settle into the old yet new rhythm of speaking together alone. He liked it better when they had been strangers, rather than a couple with a past. There were lots of annoyed sighs and little eye contact, but once the distraction of the refreshments was gone, so too was her desire to linger despite just scratching the surface of her recent troubles. He was relieved when he was once again left to the solitude of his tower, but glad they got through the first talk, even if he had almost ended it before it began. It was a small step toward… he truly had no idea, but he needed to figure it out. Too much was riding on the both of them to act like awkward teenagers pretending to be mature about the feelings stirring about them.

As he rested his elbows on his desk with his head down grasping his hair, another knock echoed throughout his office. Before he could summon them in, Dorian waltzed in looking out the door behind him, "Was that Evie coming from here? Have you two made any headway? As much as I love a good bleeding-hearts drama, I don't enjoy starring in one."

Resuming his previous position with a groan while the mage sat in the chair beside him, he was growing tired of their conversations always being about her. "You and me both. I have a mind just to end it so I can have some peace."

"I would caution you against that," his voice seemed more sincere, as he tried to settle in on the warmed seat, "that could be much worse." When he looked over wearily at him, he went on, "I think I know you well enough to know that you're incapable of doing that. Look how you reacted when an imposter suitor showed up or what happened that night we were up late playing chess," he grumbled at the memory, "you went to 'check on her' and ended up kissing a betrothed woman, lest we forget the signature you left on her lovely neck. And even before that, I caught her trying to have a private chat with you while you slept."

He sat up, "What?! When was this?"

"Oh, yes, it was at the end of your last relapse, but… I did promise I wouldn't say anything," he quirked an eyebrow at him pausing before gleefully adding, "but it's too late now, so I'll just tell you! I was down here giving her some privacy with you up there, but I heard something about you never being able to forgive her and fantasizing about running away to South Reach. Not much of a fantasy, if you ask me."

He raised a hand to quiet the babbling mage, "She mentioned running away to South Reach?"

"Do you not listen? I detest repeating myself. It’s a wonder, as a former Templar, how you ever remembered an order given to you."

"Dorian," he growled.

"Very well, yes, she said something to the effect of wishing to run away with you after all this to South Reach," he posed thoughtfully before his gray eyes flicked over to him, "Wait a moment, was that… we stopped there on the way back from Crestwood." It seemed he was just realizing the significance of her words. "Your family lives there… well, now isn't that interesting." Dorian knew why Cullen had a hard time forgiving Evelyn, they had talked at length over it. He had heard the Tevinter transplant boast before that he was the Commander's confidant and closest friend, even if it was partly true. With Rylen doing most of the traveling for him of late, Dorian had been a ready friend, for which he was grateful, even if his sarcasm was trying at times. "Tell me, does that revelation change anything?"

Cullen stared hard at him, "It… might." His friend's face looked at him expectantly, "It may mean that she lied about believing I was unfit to support her… but it doesn't change the truth of it. Take away my title and what am I? A Ferelden farmboy who can wield a sword, that's what. And what if I succumb to lyrium's madness, will she nurse me through to the end of my days? Does she deserve such a mundane life? What would her family say?"

"That's the spirit!"

"Did you not just hear what I said?!"

"See, it is annoying isn't it, having to repeat yourself." With a harsh glare from his leonine eyes, the mage continued, "I did hear you, and what I mean to say is it's about time you're thinking about a future with her again." Cullen froze thinking about his implications. Was it so simple as that? Yet, the path to forgiveness was arduous and fraught with pain he didn't want to confront. Why was he being a coward about it again? Wasn't confronting their demons the purpose of their talks, even if they were each other's current problem? His heart sank thinking of the past hour and his behavior towards her, especially when it had been his idea. As the wheels in his head spun, Dorian was excusing himself after standing and walking to the door, "Glad I once again proved invaluable to you. I shall leave you to your handsome brooding. Do try to get some sleep, Commander." With a wistful wave, he was off to the Herald's Rest, no doubt, in search of better company.

Locking the door behind him, Cullen made his way up his ladder to bed. Pulling off everything but his pants, he climbed in looking up to where there was once a hole in his ceiling. Having requested at least one window larger than the arrow slits, Master Gatsi was able to accommodate him with one facing the southern ramparts. Having never shut it since the day it was installed, it kept the room from feeling stuffy like Kinloch Tower. Having kept his paperweight brick, he reached over to his nightstand where he kept his personal correspondence.

Since his surprise visit to South Reach, he had kept faithful communication with his siblings. Since his coin was of no use to them, he sent useful gifts such as a variety of books or anything they happened to note that had broken or needed replacing. It was especially easy to do with the Inquisition's vast resources and plenty of vendors looking to garner favor with its Commander by helping with such simple favors. Leliana had helped select fabric from one of the merchant stalls to send to Rosalie, who had since made several new outfits for them all - including himself. He even had Master Gatsi and his craftsmen make a new grindstone for the mill from leftover stone used to repair Skyhold. The stone needed redressing, and seeing as it was aging and worn, thought it'd make for a nice surprise.

Evelyn had also kept in contact with them, as they secretly checked up on him. A few times he had glanced around her desk before their split he caught a few lines from letters she left out. She had sent them a few things as well in thanks for their hospitality, and as far as he knew, was still waiting to hear back from Branson if she was permitted to gift Richard a Ranger foal next spring. Having outed their kiss after they departed for Skyhold, Mia and Ros were always asking how things were between them. Having recently gone suspiciously quiet on the subject in his replies, he debated whether he wanted to tell them things had cooled to the frigid temperatures of the Frostbacks. Knowing them, they would most likely blame him for whatever went wrong, so he didn't see how telling them would help the situation.

Every now and then he would take a handful of letters and read through them, committing to memory their contents in the quiet of the night. Having been welcomed back with open arms, he would not neglect his familial duties again, especially after thinking recently about his future. If his withdrawal symptoms became more severe the older he got, he would rather not burden them with his care, but neither did he want to rot in a Chantry home. Would they even take him in since leaving The Order? Regardless, he was going to rely on someone's charity, be it one of his siblings or… or…

"Oh, for the love of…" he pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew who he needed to speak to first in the morning.

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Evelyn stood crossing her arms in the Quartermaster's office as he shuffled through a pile of requisitions. Without windows the space was lit solely by the yellow glow of candlelight. The chaos of the papers piled about the room seemed to have no clear organization, yet Quartermaster Morris appeared to have his own system. "I simply wish to know if you've had any luck finding that thing I asked you about for Enchanter Ilara's nameday? A yes or no would do, I have--"

The door opened and the Commander strode in with his nose down reviewing his parchment, "Morris, I need these supplies… oh, Inquisitor, um, good morning."

"Good morning, Commander," she tried to fake a smile. The Quartermaster paid him no mind yet, still thumbing through pages. Meanwhile, the two stood awkwardly swaying trying to think of what to say after last night. Eyeing the paper he was crumpling in his hands, she asked, "What have you there?"

"An updated supply list that needs to be filled immediately before we leave in a few days for Adamant."

Morris looked up, "One moment Commander, I'm on an errand for Her Worship here."

She sighed quietly looking up to the heavens, "I don't need their exact response, Morris. Just a--"

"It's here, Inquisitor, I swear," he exclaimed as he searched.

Lowering his voice, Cullen leaned over closer to her ear, "I'm glad you're here actually, I wanted to apologize for last night."

"Now?" She pointedly shot a glance to the other scrawny blonde man desperately searching for a single note in the vast filed columns about the room. "There's no need--"

The Quartermaster cut her off thinking she was speaking to him, "I really do think you need to see this, Your Worship! Where is it?!"

She huffed about to tell him her words weren't directed at him but disregarded it, "I was being sensitive, I should've been more patient. Yesterday was just… a lot for me."

Cullen tried to speak over the sound of crunching parchment, "You had asked me what I want--”

Morris again chimed in, “Just one moment, Commander!”

“Not you…” he sighed looking back to her, “what I want is to forgive you, but…"

"But?" She felt her eyes go wide as she breathed out her mouth desperately waiting for his words.

"Found it!" Morris held up the letter in triumph, "Here you are, Inquisitor!" He handed it over to her as she fumbled with opening it.

As she read through the note, its contents helped disguise her emotional response to Cullen, "They want how much?! Is this correct?"

Morris shrugged, "I told you you'd want to see it. I’ll try my best to haggle down the price, but they are rather insistant upon that price. Commander, I can help you now." Cullen looked to her wanting to continue, but reluctantly passed his list to the Quartermaster for his review, "And you need this all in two days?!"

"It was an oversight, as to why I'm delivering it to you personally, to apologize for the trouble it will cause you, but the supplies are vital." As the Quartermaster's best customer, the Commander knew how to keep the easily flustered man calm.

A deep exhale shot from his mouth before meeting Cullen's eyes, "You'll have your supplies, Commander. I'll stake my reputation on it!"

"Thank you, Morris."

"And my thanks as well. You've done an exemplary job providing us with everything we need for the operation. The Inquisition is lucky to have you." Her words made the man blush, but even so, he held himself up straighter. "Though perhaps it's time to get you an assistant to help manage your office."

The haughty man perked up, "That is incredibly insightful, Inquisitor. I suppose I could use an extra set of hands in here if to simply free my mind to focus on the highly complex web of supply lines and contacts."

The two senior members shared a look, "Of course, I shall see to it." With that, they took their leave with their business having been concluded. Outside, they stopped just behind the tavern, "Wait, what were you going to say in there? Why you can't forgive me?" His face contorted with pain, but he didn't speak. "Please," she took a step closer pleading with him, "talk to me."

"I want to forgive you, but there are things we are going to need to talk through. With Adamant looming before us, we can't afford the distraction. Can we just get through this mission and deal with it when we're back?" It was a reasonable request and one that offered her hope, as she nodded. "I need your support in the coming days and you mine. We can't operate awkwardly in each other's presence." His face softened, "For the sake of the Inquisition, I can push aside my feelings so we can resume some normally."

"As can I," came her ready answer, but it would immensely harder than that. She wanted to fix things and if that was the way forward so be it. Both sighed in relief despite the farce of their new understanding. They would pretend as if all was well, for what else could they do considering the situation? More was at stake than their personal relationship.

"In that case,” he rubbed the back of his neck in the endearing way he always did when nervous, “I was going to grab something to eat before the council meeting. Would you... join me?” He was asking for more than her company, but a practice run of their new act.

She performed well, placing a hand to her stomach pretending it had growled, "I could do with some as well, thank you." A small friendly smile tugged at her lips, ignoring the tension of her jaw. Having cursed their duty for her issues of late, now it seemed it was the only thing holding them together.