To celebrate the release of My Warden a year ago today, I thought I'd share my first start to the story. Originally, I intended it to be first person beginning where the Inquisitor meets the Hero in the cave and then flashback to what happened between Cullen and Lana in the deep roads. I got a few scenes in and realized I hated it all and restarted. Enjoy a little peek behind the curtain on my brain.

Thanks for all the reviews, follows, favs, and readings.

Wards of ice and fire drawn across the filthy stone flared in warning, prepared to launch at my whim. I tugged them back from the fade maintaining the balance until I could see whoever breached through my perimeter. It wasn't much, only a few of the easier wards sloppily inscribed - the best I could establish in this smuggler cave. Time, as always, was not on my side and the bandits were less than thrilled with my eviction. Stepping around the rocky barrier and into the light, I faced my potential foe. He was well armored for an elf, with proper splint covering the chain and below all that soft tanned leather that barely showed the wear of the road. Precious metals embedded along the edges of his armor glinted in my torch light. His eyes darted to the staff in my left hand, but the real danger rotated through the power seeping from my right hand submerged into the fade. With a flick of my wrist, I could unleash horrors unlike anything he'd ever seen.

"Wait!" a voice shouted from behind the invader, "It's just us!"

I turned from the elf to spot my unexpected ally and even more unexpected cousin rounding up behind him. "I brought the Inquisitor," Hawke said, twisting her head from the elf back to me. Her eyes screamed 'What are you doing? This wasn't part of the plan.'

Snapping my hand shut, I shifted my staff to the side and dipped my head down in a bow, "Of course. Forgive me, but I could not be too careful."

"Blowing us all up might be acting a wee bit too careful. Did you put wards on the ceiling?" Hawke asked, her head tipped back as she spotted a few of my over ambitious castings. Even with that ridiculous blood swipe across her nose, she still managed a level of beauty that should be impossible when technically on the run. I got as far as remembering to blot stains off my robes when not fleeing from blood mages I once thought were colleagues and friends.

"Are you..." the elf who must be the Inquisitor spun upon his heels, emerald eyes trying to pierce through the shadows. I tugged upon the scarf drawn around my mouth and tipped back the hood.

"Yes," I said, "I am the Hero of Ferelden. And you have a very tall darkspawn problem that I hear you need help with."

The Inquisitor wasn't what I expected based upon Hawke's descriptions, though hers tended to veer into the colorful and obscene. His eyes glowed with a, to forgive the pun, inquisitiveness as I explained what little I could discern of Corypheus, and what I knew of Clarel. He only asked a few questions, and I told the truth - far more than the order would prefer.

"I am uncertain where the Grey Wardens of Orlais have settled. It concerns me how little I can discover of my own order," I glanced towards Hawke and she shrugged. Finding my wardens was what drove me to Clarel in the first place. I was not about to give up hope, even as she called for my head.

"We have to stop Corypheus," the Inquisitor spoke, "by any means necessary."

"The Wardens should be our best chance at that. Isn't killing darkspawn all you do?" a brown skinned man spoke. The Tevinter accent threw me, I hadn't expected to hear it ever again. Out of all of us in the smuggler cave, he seemed the least prepared to go wading through a bog - his mage robes sliding off the shoulder in a nearly pristine white.

"That and cheese making," I said, my face stone through the jibe. He smiled, but my unflinching eyes caused his lips to slowly droop down until he slid away. Behind him, Hawke guffawed into her hand.

"Well, we could certainly use all your skills to help stop Corypheus," the Inquisitor tried to play diplomatic.

"I am more than willing to stop this Corypheus," I said.

"As am I," Hawke chimed in, as if siding with the Inquisitor hadn't been her idea from the beginning.

Ignoring her aside, I continued, "But while my fellow wardens hunt for me, I'm afraid anyone near me becomes a target." Even stopping in Crestwood for as long as I did was dangerous. When someone was willing to turn to blood magic for their solution, how much further into darkness would they twist? What was killing a few innocent villagers to stop the blight?

But the Inquisitor smiled, a charm lighting up his face as he turned to me, "Don't worry. We've gotten ourselves a rather nice fortress recently."

Hawke leaned forward, "I've seen it. Not bad. Coulda used something like that in Kirkwall. Needs more roof."

The Inquisitor glared at Hawke, but she shrugged it off. Nothing ever stuck to her, a fact I found myself envious of whenever our paths crossed. Extending my left hand, I gripped the Inquisitor's. A spark of the fade broke from the non-magical elf right through me, pulling upon the tainted blood coursing inside of me. He did not notice, the smile never fading as he took away his hand.

"The Champion of Kirkwall, the Hero of Ferelden, and the Inquisitor all together in one place," Varric said, patting that crossbow of his, "That sound was thedas clenching its collective sphincters."

Clarel was not the answer I'd hoped to find, no one was it seemed. And now I had to rely upon this elf, a man with at most twenty, perhaps twenty five years to him. Maker, he looked like a babe compared to us, with cheeks as round as a soft cheese, and a suppleness to the skin. Perhaps if he was lucky, the weight of the world would not crush it from him.

Leliana threw her arms around me, her cold chainmail overcoat biting to my ribs even through the wool robes. We made it about ten steps into Skyhold before she tracked Hawke and me down. "It's good to see you again," I said, returning the hug with less fervor. After a month of travel, my arms threatened to snap like a dead branch ripped in a wind storm. If Leliana noticed my reluctance, she did not show it.

"If only it were under better circumstance," she said, that soft smile I remembered bobbing away.

"I'm sorry, about Justinia." I only met the woman once, and at her Left Hands insistence. Orlais and Ferelden were still at enough odds, mixing the Divine with the Hero was dicey. And I would rather saw off my own leg than have to attend a fancy ball.

Leliana only sighed softly from the loss. Her voice tried to flit around like a butterfly in the height of summer, but lurking in those crystal blue eyes I saw depths of horror and pain I could not imagine. What little was heard about the destruction at Haven and the Temple of Sacred Ashes sounded outlandish to me, and I'd slaughtered an Arch-Demon. She spoke of simple things as we passed into the larger hall of Skyhold - how they found this place, the madness her ring of spies could stir up, and what her life had been up to until Justinia's death. "At least we no longer need to worry about the mage rebellions," she said, but an accusation underlay through the flippancy. I suspected I knew what it was.

"Hawke told me you were searching for me."

She blinked her eyes from below that drawn hood, "We hoped to find someone to lead this endeavor, someone the people would look to. Someone I knew I could trust."

"Leliana, I..." I did miss her first attempts on accident as I was involved with another matter in the deep roads. But when her investigations turned to Hawke, I'd already met up with my cousin who was more than happy to keep me abreast courtesy of her own little spy. "I am sorry. I did not think it was my place to get involved, given...you know," I waved my fingers around, blue sparks following in an arc. "People still do not like the idea of a mage giving them orders."

She snorted and shook her head. "That is idiotic, you saved Ferelden, all of thedas. If it weren't for you, the blight could have swept across Orlais and Kirkwall. Alistair would not be king...Oh, I," her eyes darted over me, "I'm sorry."

I turned up my lips, "It was ten years ago. Our lives are...not to be. Could we talk about something less painful? Corypheus instead?"

Leliana smiled at my banter as we paused outside of a set of massive doors. Sunlight beat down through the northern winds hissing around a hole in the stone wall. Hawke was not joking about the roof problem.

"Speaking of Corypheus," she pushed on the doors, and guided me into a room. A lone table took up the main footage, big enough to seat an order itself and covered in a map of thedas. This must be their war room. Leliana lifted her voice, "We have our Warden."

"Oh, oh goodness!" a woman bent over the map broke away, fluster written all across her. "I never dreamed Hawke to be referencing the...I'm sorry, we should have welcomed you with a parade."

"Josephine, right?" I glanced to Leliana who snorted at my lucky guess. The woman herself all but squealed from my knowing her name. "Leliana's told me much of you, that you're an impressive ambassador but I...I'm not as fussy as most royalty."

Josephine squeaked again and thrust her clipboard at me. I stared at her eyes for a few beats before she took it away and then grabbed my hand. Leliana chortled at her friend, then gestured at the last person in the room, "When Josie is done manhandling you, this is our commander."

Those amber eyes rose up from canvassing Ferelden and something unheroic caught in my throat. He'd changed so much in the intervening years, a wariness guarding his eyes, more than a scar tempering his lips. I knew he was here courtesy of Hawke, but despite steeling myself something inside my stomach flipped.

"Cullen," my voice caught, far huskier than what should be used in a war room.

For a flicker, the uncertainty in his eyes vanished and he smiled as bright as the templar I once knew. But it slipped away to proper decorum as he bowed his head, "Lady Amell."

"We, I don't know if it's smart to use my name around here," I said, my eyes glancing around the room. A month on the run from people once considered friends was not good on the nerves.

"You will be safe here, I've made certain of it," Leliana spoke as she leaned closer to me. I tipped my head.

"I think, given the relative newness of the Inquisitor's position and not wanting to risk any possible divisions of loyalty, it'd probably be best to just call me Warden. There is no reason for knowledge of me to move beyond this room."

"That is most wise," Josephine complimented, gesticulating with her quill.

"Thanks, I get one right on occasion," I quipped, happy to put it all upon the Inquisitor. Leading was not my strong suit, and guiding an entire army made my fingers throb. Josephine folded back, but I felt Leliana's eyes tugging upon me. She knew I was trying to hide something, but I'd explain later. Only the lone man in the room avoided eye contact with me, his gaze skipping past to anything else of interest. Through Josephine's excitement and Leliana's gratefulness of my return, no one noticed the awkwardness rising to fill the room.

"We understand you have information on the Grey Wardens," Leliana prompted. I shook my head, disturbed to realize in what direction I'd zoned out in.

"Yes, not as much as I'd like, but it's a start. Do you have many spies out in the Western Approach?" I turned to Leliana.

"What makes you think I have any spies?"she asked, feigning a naiveté that worked on no one in the room.

"Call it a warden sense," I joked before diving back to business, "what little I could discover before I became the Grey Warden's most wanted is that some kind of ritual is occurring out near the desolate areas."

"Makes sense, only Grey Wardens tread there," Cullen said. His hands balanced upon a sword strapped across his hip. The movement drew my attention, and far too late I realized it lined my sight right down his trousers. With one hand cupping the bottom of my jaw, I attempted to camouflage my burning blush in feigned concentration.

"Once that may have been true, but more people other than Grey Wardens have been sighted in the area. Be wary."

"Is there anything else you know?" Josephine asked.

I opened my mouth, but my stomach decided to take the floor instead. The growl would put some roaring dragons to shame, as a small bit of leftover bread did not seem to be enough to appease it.

"Ah, perhaps we should host a feast in honor of the Hero...the warden?" Josephine said, her diplomatic interlude earning her keep.

"No feasts," I said, shaking my head, "but a good dinner would suffice."

The memory of light drifted from the fade, out of my grasp and into the real world. Blue rays orbited around the center spire, and I closed the glass around the lantern. Five down, countless more to go. People moved crisply but politely around the battlements, most not paying any mind to the mage in the muddy robes lighting their candles. I had a far too spacious room to retire to after dinner - Josephine even took the time to light the fireplace and place small chocolates upon the pillows. But all that waited me there was silence, unending and unbowing. It wasn't the emptiness that bothered me, after a decade of walking the Deep Roads living alone inside my skull became a second home. It was what lurked in the silence that drew me from the warm bed and out into the windy night.

Dipping into the fade calmed the whispers, as if the voices couldn't compete with whatever power I drew forth from beyond the veil. Some nights, the noise grew so wearisome, I'd cast spell after spell until my body and brain exhausted itself and I'd pass into a blank sleep. It was the only hope I had against the unending torrent until I made contact with her. My fingers touched the tip of the spire, drawing the light from my mana. I smiled at the warmth of a summer's day and closed the glass.

"You do not have to do that."

I stepped back from the edge, carefully wiping away any residual fade energy, before turning to Cullen. He held his coat tighter across his shoulders with one hand, while the other steadied that sword. I wasn't about to fall for that trap again as I focused upon a bemused smile playing with his lips. "We have people that light the lanterns," he continued, pointing at the one I just finished in a long row. "Mages. Because no one else can light them. I mean...um."

"I assumed as such," I said, unable to stifle a laugh from his stumbling. "It helps."

"Helps what?"

"That's the question I wish I could answer." I stepped towards another lantern, preparing to light it. This one hung extended off a hook dangling from the parapet below which was a very long fall to a very messy death. With one hand to steady myself, I reached out towards it. The fade snapped at my impudence, unhappy that I'd dare summon it without grounding myself. A snip flared back, and instinctively I dodged away, my hand slipping from its clasp. But a templar's gloves gripped tight to keep me from falling to my death. With Cullen holding me, I was able to touch the spire, pouring perhaps more energy than I meant from the fade into our world. Blinding light, like staring into the sun, beamed down upon a few guards pacing outside the doors of Skyhold.

One looked up, trying to shield her eyes from the onslaught, and shouted, "What are you doing, mage?! You're going to blind us all! Or alert our enemies! Take it down, now!"

"Sorry," I called back, trying to wave my hand, but Cullen leaned over the edge as well.

"Soldier," he jerked his head once.

"Ah, Sir!" the soldier saluted, then she banged her foot into the other one, who followed suit. "I was just telling that mage there that the lantern's too bright. It's liable to blind someone and draw attention to the hold."

"You should return to patrols," Cullen said, "I can deal with the mage."

"Yes, Sir!" she saluted again, then grabbed onto the other guard's collar and yanked him out of my inadvertent spotlight. Cullen pulled back from the edge and closed his eyes in a familiar move. It was the 'I'm trying to be stern here and not laugh at something my underlings did because then I lose all gravitas.' I was a tenth level professional at it after years with Oghren in the ranks.

"How were you planning on dealing with me?" I asked.

His eyes flew open, concern at the implications of his words, but then he spotted the smile twisting my lips up the side of my face. "I," Cullen dipped his head down, his eyes staring through a space in the wall. "I am uncertain. A drink?"

"That would," I was about to refuse politely, but all that awaited me back in my room was the endless void and something lurking inside it. "Good. It would be be good. We should talk."

"Yes, there's um...my quarters are this way. If that's all right?"

"Away from prying eyes and pricking ears sounds best," I said, bobbing my head. "Oh, and Cullen?"

"Yes?"

"You can let go of my hand now."

I stared up at the tree prodding through Cullen's quarters. Every question it raised died upon my throat. Surely he had to notice. It was right there, over his bed, a sapling thick enough to nearly be a tree. Did they not have time to remove it? Or was there no inclination to bother? Was he going to wake one autumn morning to leaves scattered across himself? I obsessed over the tree because it kept me from focusing on the templar scouring through his desk for an illusive bottle.

"I could have sworn I placed it here," he gestured to the desktop, his hands cupped as if holding the imaginary glass. "Or, perhaps I moved it to the bookshelf..."

"Cullen," I sighed. He paused in walking over to the shelf that even from my vantage point I could see held no liquor. "It's not important. Josephine spoiled me relentlessly with her wine selection."

"The ambassador is proud of her growing cellar." Cullen drummed his fingers against the bookshelf, rattling the mismatched tomes.

"I hadn't had anything that strong in ages," I said stretching up against the desk. Weariness waited for me on the horizon, ready to pounce when I let it.

"She has this Antivan brandy, well, none of us are supposed to know she has it. But, I'm fairly certain it could knock out a horse," he gazed out through his open door, perhaps to where the lady ambassador sat with burning ears.

"Maker, I'm glad she keeps it under lock and key. Anymore and I'd have been climbing naked on the table..." With that the awkwardness snapped back, evaporating our facade. Silence dropped so hard, I could hear my own heart thundering against my ribs.

"I did not expect it to be you here," I broke the stalemate first.

He turned away from the bookcase, and pain pulled at his eyes. "I was about to say the same. Don't you belong to the Grey Wardens?"

"Don't you belong to the templars?" I shot back, not meaning for there to be any malice. It was what it was. What it had always been.

Cullen parted his forehead with his gloved hand, pulling and smoothing the skin. The movement drew forth a memory of his own naked fingers digging into my arm, his lips parting mine with an unexpected passion in the darkest parts of thedas. I fanned my cheeks, trying to wipe away the burn of embarrassment, shame - and yes - lust. Four years since I saw him last, and I found myself consciously crossing and uncrossing my legs, trying to bite down on any stray thoughts.

His fingers paused and he drew his hand away, a strength flowing through his spine as he straightened to the stance of a soldier. Was it a strength he felt or one he needed me to see? "I am no longer with the templars. What little even remains of them. I left before Corypheus turned them."

"I know," I said. At his surprised turn, I shrugged, "Hawke. And Varric."

"Oh, the dwarf. You know him?"

"It is a very long story involving Tevinter and blood mages," and an offer of assistance I should not have given to the king of Ferelden. "Perhaps ask Varric sometime, I'm certain he'll make it far more interesting."

"Is that a Grey Warden code for lie, because..."

"Cullen," I interrupted him, unable to dance around the obvious anymore, "what happened between us in Kirkwall, it..."

"It was an act of desperation. You needed a templar, I understand," he spoke so calmly as if he wrote it off ages ago. I shook my head, striding towards him, needing to defend myself and my actions.

"What? No. I, yes I needed a templar to find White, but what we, uh...Maker, I'm screwing this all up." I skidded to a halt inches away from him. He pulled his hand away from the sword and reached towards me. For a moment it looked as if he would cup my cheek, perhaps even pull my lips towards him for a kiss. And Maker, I wanted it, I wanted to entwine around him and forget all the mage, and templar, and grey warden shit. But instead he patted my shoulder like we were old pals. I curled my fingers over the top of his and squeezed. His eyes softened, the candle light drawing forth halos in the amber.

"Do you," Cullen paused and his voice dropped lower, "do you regret it?"

"No," I shook my head and smiled from the few good memories left in my life, "There are many things in my life I wish I could do over, but not that."

"That, uh," his tongue rolled against his teeth as he glanced upwards, coughing down the bob of his throat, "that's informative. In a way. But, we..."

I nodded my head, I'd been preparing the same sentence since I first walked through Skyhold's main door. "This is not the time to risk the sanctity of thedas. I know and understand."

He smiled briefly, relief from someone speaking the truth, but then his eyes closed in a curious twinge of pain, "It seems unfair that you do."

"I..." It was all I knew. My life was forfeit the moment I left the tower. Grey Wardens didn't have families, didn't settle down, didn't find love. I'd tried to explain as much to him four years ago, but we were both too bitter then to listen. "I should head to my room. The road was more taxing than I anticipated."

"Of course," he bowed his head. "If you require anything more of me..."

"I'll know where to find you," I smiled, taking my leave.