Staring out of his window at the passing sights of rolling hills and towering pine trees lost in oceans of lush fern groves, Cullen breathed deeply of the crisp air through his nose; while he relished seeing his homeland's pristine countryside, he wished – certainly not for the first time – the circumstance of his visit was different. Taking in the natural beauty around him was more of an endeavor on meditation rather than a reflection of his patriotism, however; Cullen's nerves had been on edge since his journey had first began, his body sabotaging the calm he sought as it rocked listlessly with the sway of the carriage. It had taken Cullen and his entourage just a few days to reach Redcliffe's lands after the Inquisitor's missive had arrived at Skyhold, he and his fellow advisors scrambling in the bird's wake to make preparations for his own harried departure. Isabeau's report had been woefully bare in terms of details, more so than Cullen felt was her usual, the Inquisitor only being clear in her orders for the Commander to join the escort sent to retrieve the prisoner Alexius. Beyond a mentioning of the Crown's involvement, however – the levity of which having peeved Josephine to no end – there had been precious few other details included.

In any other circumstance, Cullen would have balked at being tasked with an ambassadorial mission, ready to admit he secretly knew why both Josephine and Bull had taken to calling him The Hammer. Though he was not so naïve to believe the Quinari's insinuations were entirely innocent when using the epithet – especially when flung Cullen's way over tankards brimming with ale – the ex-Templar could privately see the merit behindboth his companion's accusations. With the victory over Alexius sending Josephine into a bureaucratic frenzy, Leliana had initially offered to go in Cullen's stead, feeling her association with King Alistair could prove useful. Cullen had declined her tempting offer, certain there was an ulterior motive behind Isabeau's request besides just a show of muscle.

Well, it… could be a show of muscle. Depending on whose, exactly…

Frowning at his lecherous thoughts, Cullen squashed the nagging need as quickly as it had risen, rubbing the sides of his forehead in an effort to allay his growing anxieties. While, true, it had been some time since he and Isabeau had managed an evening together, whatever had occurred behind the walls of Redcliffe's castle, it was an entirely innapropriate time for him to succumb to the nascent yearning nettling him of late. In the week since her departure, Cullen had been steadfastly navigating not just his own physical frustrations at her leave, but also the ongoing recovery of his Lyrium addiction; recommitting himself to a routine of Solas' tea and a torrent of paper work. Skyhold had certainly felt the brunt of Cullen's agitation; the Keep a veritable storm of activity as he had dedicated himself to numerous tasks, ones even beyond his usual martial duties, in his efforts to occupy himself.

And still carrying the bruises from one too many sparring sessions…

At the thought of said strenuous activities, Cullen rolled his shoulder to stretch out the sore muscles, frowning as he considered his more emotionally tender misgivings of meeting again with King Alistair. Like Leliana, Cullen had in fact met His Majesty once before at Kinloch Hold, back when it had fallen and the Blight was spreading across Ferelden; the timing and circumstances of which incapable of being more unfortunate. Remembering all too well the state he had been in when the two had come crashing into the chamber that had been his hell, Solona Amell at the head of their charge, Cullen could not help but cringe inwardly as he recalled his venomous and raving words. Only once in the Inquisition's fledgling days had Leliana ever broached the subject, the Spymaster succinct but sincere in her efforts to kindly assuage the flood of Cullen's insecurities when he'd attempted to plead his case.

Andraste as my witness, the King will see as she did… that I am not that man any more.

Despite the inner turmoil and his own misgivings for the diplomacies ahead, Cullen had chosen to put aside his own uncomfortable reservations; there was something alarming in Isabeau's communique and he was choosing to follow his gut over his reason for her sake. He may have his own ulterior motives in joining the Inquisitor, but he would do his best to ensure his personal stakes did not affect his duty to the Inquisition's needs itself.

Though, he could not deny he secretly looked forward to when they'd finally have a moment of privacy, hoping whatever remained of their obligations to the Crown were wrapped up promptly and tidily.

"Ser, we'll be reaching the gates momentarily. Would you like to proceed on horseback?"

Turning to look up at the awaiting squire, Cullen nodded in acknowledgment before Podrick pounded his fist against the carriage's walls to alert the driver behind him, the carriage slowly coming to a rumbling stop. The young man immediately moved to push and hold open the door for the Commander, Cullen nodding his thanks as he climbed down the carriage's folding step, more than satisfied with the lad's abilities in the time he'd worked with him. Isabeau had chosen wisely when encouraging Cullen to take the aspiring Knight under both their shared wing.

"Ser!"

Lieutenant Patterson jogged up to where Cullen was waiting for Pod to retrieve Goliath, the Commander tugging on his riding gloves as he turned to listen. "Report, Lieutenant."

"Ser. First platoon has ferretted out the last of the Venatori in the area; they were making for the borders and we have them on the run. The forward scouts have connected with our men in the village, as well as the King's own guard; we've had confirmation all routes within and out of Redcliffe show clear for travel."

"Excellent. Assemble a platoon of our men and have them ready to march through the Village in full parade, Lieutenant; I want the populace to feel our presence," Cullen crisply dismissed the officer before accepting Goliath's reins from Podrick's awaiting hands, snugly planting a boot in the stirrup to then swing himself up atop the great black beast. With a spurring from his heels, he began to canter ahead to the front of his company, not having to wait long before Patterson joined with the Commander's accompanying parade.

When they passed under the soaring gates to Redcliffe Village, Cullen fought to subdue the triumphant smirk that teased at the corner of his lips, he and his entourage greeted with a roar of joyous welcome from the various citizens of the hold that had gathered. As petals of various Ferelden wild flowers gently rained down upon them from the windowsills they passed, Cullen felt the scores of eyes that followed him as he lead the way through the village proper and towards the castle, various villagers approaching to pay their tributes and gratitude to the Inquisition's soldiers. Pausing only to release a hand from the reins in acceptance of an elderly woman's victory wreath, Cullen looked up at the setting sky, admiring the way it glittered across the lake's surface as the castle loomed closer into view. Soon Goliath's hooves were clopping loudly atop the massive wooden draw bridge of the impressive keep, the courtyard opening ahead to reveal an assortment of Inquisition and Royal troops gathered within.

"Knight-Captain Rylen!" Cullen hailed when he spotted his old friend and second-in-command, the fellow ex-Templar approaching from his position amongst the higher ranks of the King's Guard.

"Commander Cullen… it is good to see you," he replied with a solid pat to Goliath's flank, his thick Starkhaven accent giving a pleasant clip to the title as he then outstretched an arm to clasp Cullen's against his. "The Inquisitor awaits with His Majesty King Alistair; I've… been told they have prepared a feast for us to attend upon your arrival."

"Ugh…Andraste preserve me," Cullen muttered to the chorus of Rylen's barely contained chuckle, both men sharing in a distaste for the pomp such events usually entailed. "Bad enough I've been in a bloody carriage for days on end. Did the Inquisitor have nothing more taxing than a tea party with Alexius?" Rylen paused in his chuckling to quirk a chastising eyebrow at the Commander, the comradery that had taken root between the two since Kirkwall making Rylen one of the first and few men Cullen could legitimately call 'friend'. Giving his head a sullen shake under the scrutiny of the Knight-Captain's admonishing glare, Cullen leaned down from the saddle to clap a hand to Rylen's shoulder, "Forgive me, I'm being nothing but a… prat. At the least, the food should prove satisfying."

"Oh aye, of that I'm sure, Ser – If there's one thing you Ferelden pups got right, it's your food!" Rylen agreed good-naturedly, the tattoos on his face then shifting with the contours of a furtive smirk as he winked knowingly at the Commander. "Suppose… the debriefing with the Inquisitor won't be bad either, aye..?"

You 'suppose' much, you git…" Cullen retorted affably but quietly as he dismounted, his boots hitting the dirt with a thud as he and Rylen made their way to meet their Royal escort into the castle. Soon they were lead through two sets of towering double doors before reaching the great hall, a cacophony of sounds and merriment assaulting Cullen's ears all at once, rows upon rows of tables filled with various people spanning the vast room. As they passed the numerous benches up the middle, a feeling of déjà vu came over the Commander when his eyes rested on the sight of Isabeau seated at the King's table, laughing at whatever Dorian was chattering about next to her. The seats to her right were empty, Cullen's eyes narrowing as he scanned to the opposite end of the table, his curiosity at Cassandra and Solas' absence bordering on worry.

Climbing the few steps up and onto the dais that elevated them all from the rest of the hall's tables, Rylen and Cullen approached to interrupt Arl Teagan talking amicably next to Isabeau with the King, who himself appeared to answer only between inhaling the food in front of him – the speed of which Cullen could only attribute to one of the Warden order. Isabeau's eyes pulled away from the Arl to settle on Cullen's with a warm smile, the Inquisitor rising to her feet as the two men came to a stop, both Knights respectfully kneeling to await their release as the King seemed to startle, hastily wiping at his greasy hands before rising with the Inquisitor.

"Ah, Commander Cullen, we meet again! Oh, and look at us – all dashing and… draped in dead animals," King Alistair quipped quickly as he looked over Cullen's fur mantle, his hand gesturing peevishly at the fur around his own leather collar. "Anyway… Ferelden welcomes you!" he shouted as he made his way around the corner of the long table, coming to usher the two men back to their feet before lowering his voice slightly. "Right. Well, we still have a few things to… iron out, but I figured we could get to the boring stuff after we've stuffed you with food. 'Butter you up', so to speak, yeah?"

At Alistair awkwardly pointing a thumb at the seating behind him, Cullen saw Teagan bury his face into his hand back at the table.

Oblivious, the King leaned in closer to murmur at the side of Cullen's head, "I never get to be drunk. Don't spoil this." He stood up straight again then, returning to a more regal stature and gesturing to all who were gathered in the hall as he cried out, "Tonight, we honor the Inquisition's efforts and their service to Ferelden! Please, Ser; join us at the table!"

Though the King's downright lack of decorum was mildly disconcerting, Cullen admittedly had heard the rumours regarding his eccentricity previously; though, how much of that was through a lens borne of Josephine's exasperations regarding the man, Cullen could not say or truly care less. If he were honest, it was difficult to entirely fault the man – dare he say he almost felt a clandestine empathy even – knowing they shared similarly humble roots. Still, with Cullen's pessimism proved wrong, he remained wary but also relieved as he surreptitiously marveled at the unexpected levity of the situation around him; by the way Josephine had reacted from the news of Isabeau allying the Mage's to the Inquisition, even Cullen with a diplomatic handicap was not expecting what he'd just walked into. Certainly he'd had his own protestations on the decision, ones he intended on sharing when the pair had a more private opportunity, but he had agreed with Josephine when she'd predicted outrage from the Crown over the events. Circumspect or not, whatever Isabeau had done in the interim of apprehending Alexius, Cullen could see it had worked to their distinct advantage.

"Commander."

Feeling a warmth – one he'd come to sorely miss – spread through his chest, the hint of a smile teased at the corners of Cullen's lips as he returned to a knee, gently grasping Isabeau's hand in his before respectfully pressing his lips to it. "My lady Inquisitor."

A broad smile exploded across Isabeau's features as she, in turn, grasped Cullen's hand and lead him to the seat next to her. Cullen sat and felt a sharp rumble course through his stomach, his hunger suddenly catching up to him as he took in the various savory crowding the table around him. The Commander threw his own sense of decorum to the wind as he began, rather greedily, to pile his trencher with the food he'd grown up on.

Isabeau chuckled softly next to him, her elbows on the table as she latticed her fingers together to rest her head upon them. "Have they been starving you while I've been gone?"

Shoveling a heaping spoonful of a hearty fish stew – one that had been a well-loved staple at Kinloch Hold – into his mouth, Cullen had to chew quickly before he was able to swallow the generous helping and answer, "Forgive my gluttony, my lady. After days of salted meat and skins of wine, well, I..."

"You're forgiven," she playfully granted in interruption, the warm smile that had first greeted him slowly slipping from her face as she seemed to study his own, a more somber expression darkening her beautiful eyes before she cast them downward, "I'm... just pleased you're here, Cullen."

Slowly nodding his agreement, he tore off a piece of bread and dabbed it into the broth of the stew, popping the tasty morsel between his lips before raising a fist to mask his chewing as he organized his thoughts. With a quick clearing of his throat and a generous gulp from his goblet, he leaned his head in closer to hers, speaking as quietly as possible over the roar of the hall, "I admit, this was not what… I was expecting. Though, I must say I'd rather first know how you are faring, my lady. Your missive was…"

As his voice trailed off, Isabeau quirked an eyebrow almost sheepishly. "Brief? I know. It will be a long report, Cullen… and to be frank, not entirely one I will relish retelling quite yet. Is that alright?"

Cullen frowned, "I suppose now is not the time… Though, it doesn't do much to ease my other concerns. A-are… you alright? Are Cassandra and Solas? I do not see them."

Reaching for her fork, Isabeau absent-mindedly prodded at her roast potatoes, sighing as she plopped her head into her other hand, "I am… better than I expected, Cullen. Cassandra and Solas are both fine, as well; you know how our Seeker is about such gatherings, and Solas I assume is somewhere in the Castle… finding his way into the Fade, no doubt."

"The Fade? Why?" Cullen asked as he brought another spoonful of stew to his lips.

Pulling her head out of her hand, Isabeau sat up straight again and huffed with a shrug, "He… finds ancient castles irresistible?"

Cullen scowled, unamused by her flippant deflection, "Besides that."

Taking a sip from her goblet, Isabeau sighed in relent before continuing, "I assume to gain a better grasp of… what happened. He mentioned something about the impression the events would make upon the Fade itself; if there is something else to be found, I'm… sure he's looking for it."

Andraste's mercy... and what manner of 'events' would even inspire that desire?

Frowning at the concerning thought, Cullen could not subdue his own glib, "Well, I should hope whatever he finds proves more enlightening than your own report on said events."

She scoffed at his thinly-veiled reprimand, "Cullen… Look, after the feast I'll be sure to send a more thorough report to Josie and Leliana; how many mages to prepare for and the Crown's terms included. It's all prepared, I just need to write it."

Finishing his last mouthful of stew, Cullen reached under the table to give her thigh an affectionate squeeze before responding, "Alright – though, we will need to discuss the integration of the mages with our forces. If we are not careful, there will be abomina –" Cullen abruptly closed his mouth and as she shot him a deploring stare, scratching at his forehead in annoyed exasperation before continuing, "Then… if everything is in order, I can send Captain Rylen to prepare the men to depart for Skyhold on the morrow."

Isabeau took a hearty swig of her wine, "Actually, there's… something else."

Shrugging his bemused assent as he went to work on the rest of his meal, she fidgeted awkwardly beside him, a timid smile growing on Isabeau's features as he looked up to watch her eyes dart nervously to Rylen at Cullen's other side. He turned to see the Knight-Captain shoot her a wink before he shoveled a great helping of roast druffalo into his mouth, shrugging apologetically at Cullen as the Commander felt something flutter uncomfortably in the depths of his stomach.

"Seeing as our Knight-Captain is currently attempting to asphyxiate himself with his food, I assume he is… aware of this 'something else'?"

"In a manner of speaking," Isabeau began delicately, reaching to grasp Cullen's forearm in her hand. "I've sent word to Josie and Leliana already… the King has assigned an honor guard to join our own men as we make for South Reach – "

" – No."

" – and connect with your family – "

" – Absolutely not!"

" – whom Rylen was kind enough to have already sent a bird to. They expect us in three days," she finished swiftly in one breath, immediately bringing her goblet back to her lips as she warily scanned his face.

Planting both his elbows upon the table with a growl of agitation, Cullen buried his face into his hands as he sighed, "Maker's breath, Isabeau…"

"I'm excited!" she chirped, ignoring his brooding altogether as she gave his arm an eager shake. "Your sister's eager reply arrived earlier this morn and I've already scoured the village with Dorian – we won't arrive empty handed."

"That is hardly the issue here. Now is certainly not the time for us to go off gallivanting! The Inquisition has – "

" – been left in capable hands," Isabeau interrupted with an unexpected firmness, the anxiety that had been brewing in Cullen's gut returning with a sudden wrench, her gaze evenly meeting his own before she shook her head. "All arrangements have been made… we are going, Commander."

"Tch! You two are simply adorable when you quarrel!" Dorian sung affectionately at Isabeau's other side, brusquely cutting Cullen off before he could argue further. "Do ensure you make the most of it, Commander – and, perhaps try something different with your face while you're there, hm? Those lips deserve far more than a default frown," he playfully chided as he leaned over to shoot a wicked leer Cullen's way, taking a swig of his wine before he stood. "And speaking of adorable! Our dear Captain Rylen… Do I ever have questions for you…"

Rylen's head darted up in alarm, "M-me?"

Cullen grimaced sullenly as he drank from his goblet, watching Dorian move to sit on the other side of the perplexed Knight-Captain. Isabeau silently leaned over to rest her head in a hand again while the other draped itself over Cullen's shoulders, the couple picking at their meals as they watched Rylen's stuttering answers unfold the more Dorian harassed him. At hearing the mention of Cassandra, Isabeau chuckled heartily into Cullen's arm, the Commander watching Rylen turn a spectacular shade of red before he felt Isabeau's lips at his ear.

"You're not… truly mad, are you?"

No, but this entire situation is beginning to feel a bit mad…

Sighing tiredly at his quickly rising temper, he reached for where her one hand draped over his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Not mad, just... Well, I'm not pleased. You could have given me some manner of warning – You… seem so reticent over what occurred and I confess with so little to act upon, I'm not entirely sure how to manage all of this. Maker's breath, Isabeau… I don't even know what happened to you."

"I know, Cullen, I know… and you'll have your explanations from me, I promise. Your family –"

He gave his head a curt shake, the exhaustion from his travels creeping up on him now that some food had settled into his stomach, "It's not just my family – it's… all of this. I understand you wish not to speak of it yet, but I fear it is a discussion we truly should not delay. Especially with the… impromptu trip you've now saddled upon me." Yielding to the boldness his impatience provided, he pushed away from the table and stood to politely gesture towards the doors, "If we may…?"

"Retire…? But you've only just sat down…!" She began to protest when he shot her his own firm glare.

"Going somewhere, Commander?" Dorian asked. "Surely you would not abandon your maiden so early into a – "

"I'm afraid urgent Inquisition business requires her attention," he boorishly argued to silence their mage companion, though loud enough for both the King and the Arl to curiously look his way.

"Cullen!"

The bite behind her whispered warning made his name sound more akin to an angry cough and though she seemed to pale slightly, Isabeau held her cross scowl a second longer before her face softened in surrender, the Inquisitor turning her gaze away to look sadly out over the hall teeming with people and celebrations. She demurely tilted her head towards the Arl, quietly pleading their humble excusal.

Teagan nodded in polite assent, "Of course, my lady Inquisitor – we'll speak before your departure on the morrow and conclude what remains of our negotiations."

"You're too kind," Isabeau said graciously, Cullen following her lead as she stood and made her way over to the King, bowing elegantly as she offered her good tidings for the eve.

King Alistair frowned his protest albeit good-naturedly, "That's a shame, and here I was hoping we'd at least get to the desert cheese…" At Isabeau's throaty chuckle, his face grew more serious as he gently took her hand and kissed the back of it, "It's been a pleasure, Lady Trevelyan. Goodnight and, again, you have my thanks."

She modestly tipped her head, "The pleasure was mine, Your Majesty."

Turning to Cullen, Alistair unexpectedly clasped the Commanders forearm against his, dipping his head with a shrewd respect as he squeezed. "You've… come a long way, Ser Cullen; I am glad to see it."

Cullen gave the King's forearm a respectful shake in return, "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Extending his arm for Isabeau to hook with hers, the couple was lead out of the great hall by two of their parade guards, the Arl's and King's men at the towering doors clapping their fists to their chests in respect as Cullen and the Inquisitor passed by. Once further down the hall, Isabeau retracted her arm from Cullen's, moving to walk quickly ahead. Assuming Isabeau had already been situated prior to his own arrival, Cullen followed her as she silently lead the way through the vast stone halls of the ancient castle, each step forward twisting the growing knot in Cullen's stomach further.

You stubborn arse… was that really necessary?

Though unable to deny he deserved some of whatever ire she had coming his way, he also did not feel he was entirely at fault for his frustrations. Isabeau's cagey behavior regarding the mission's events was incredibly bizarre, his Inquisitorial responsibilities aside, his care for her demanded its own answers. The Inquisitor had never had difficulty with her reports previously; for her to have been nearly mute when even he asked, was too alarming for Cullen to ignore any longer for the sake of some royal charade.

Perhaps honesty over bouts of melodramatic priggishness next time, hm?

He squashed the chiding voice, "Isabeau?"

Halting in her determined walking, she turned on her heel to face him, shrugging expectantly as she did so. "Yes, Cullen?"

Blinking at her impatient tone, Cullen frowned as he stepped forward to clasp her hands in his. "I-I apologize for my boorish behavior, I realize it was not honorable to force your hand so, but… I've been worried sick, Isabeau. You offered barely any information for me to prepare with – leading me to expect no less t-than a dire situation – and then, when I get here, you're feasting merrily with the King! And on top of that, you won't speak a word of what happened to you so I just… I-I just…" With a growl at his own stammering, his hand trailed up her arm and neck to cup at the side of her jaw as he sighed, "Forgive me… I only wanted you to talk to me."

Sighing as she pulled away from his touch to run a hand slowly through her hair, Isabeau ignored his declaration before turning back around to approach a nearby door. Fishing a key out of her breeches' pocket, she unlocked and pushed it open, staring at Cullen expectantly as he was ushered by her inside. The chamber was quite spacious; a large bed, donned with intricately carved war hounds upon its thick wooden testers, took up nearly an entire wall; while on the wall opposite was a roaring hearth, flanked on either side with shelves littered with old, dusty books and the occasional bauble. Isabeau softly kicked the door shut behind them, watching Cullen a he sat down in a nearby armchair before she made for the decanter of wine on an adjacent side table; she poured herself a full goblet before bringing it to her lips and drinking deeply. With a gasp for air, she pulled it from her lips and filled it again and the goblet next to it, moseying over to pass one to Cullen with his thanks.

"Am… I wrong?" he asked, warily raising an eyebrow as he braced for her words with a sip of his wine.

She took another swig from her goblet with a rueful smirk, "No… You're not. Cullen… I'm sorry I worried you but – Maker, I don't even know where to begin, if I am honest!" Isabeau stepped towards the hearth, looking up at the ceiling with a dry chuckle as she gave a bemused shake of her head, "I held no illusions regarding how you would perceive your reception, but I couldn't say no to the King and frankly, I didn't want to; attending the feast – savoring our victory and the stability it had brought to those gathered – I needed to feel that sooner rather than later, Cullen. To revel and be alive. At my casual mentioning of the idea, King Alistair was… only too happy to oblige."

"All… right?" he stuttered awkwardly, not entirely sure how to respond to her passionate retort. Cullen could understand – could even appreciate – the need for such release after a difficult mission, but it didn't answer his own concerns, however. "You still could have sent us a summary report – something to have prepared me; perhaps something that would have possibly prevented this... contention between us?"

A contrite frown darkened her face as she turned to look at him in defeat, "You're right… I should have. I'm afraid I devoted the bulk of my attention to both the feast and some rest since we apprehended Alexius; both being things I needed far more than to regurgitate the grim details of what occurred on a sheet of parchment."

Though the Commander in him couldn't help but be slightly nettled by what he felt was a blatant disregard for the Inquisition's priorities, he also could not stifle the amnesty his affections for her allotted, her unusual behavior only solidifying his concern further. Cullen was painfully aware of the burdens she already carried for them all, and it was difficult to fault the woman for seeking some respite, but... All the same, these 'grim details' are doing little to comfort me... Maker's breath, what happened to disturb her so?

Setting his goblet down, Cullen rose from the arm chair and slowly moved to stand behind her then, pressing his lips to the side of her neck before his arms moved to wrap solidly around her. "That… is exactly what I am getting at. Whatever happened, it was enough to distract you from your duties – our duties. I'm not asking you to speak to me of this as one of your advisors though, Isabeau; I would only hear what you're willing to tell… s-so that I may help…"

"Cullen, there's…" she began when her voice broke, Isabeau pausing as she seemed to gather the flow of emotions that had given way with Cullen tearing down one of her dams. With another anxious sip taken of her wine, she began to tremble in his embrace as her voice whispered shakily on, "It was just… so insane. D-Dorian can explain it far more eloquently than I, but… but we travelled through time, Cullen. Though. Time. And I… I-it was… horrible."

She turned around in his arms, her eyes glassy and almost vacant as she stared down at the lions carved onto his gorget, her fingers rising to trace its edges slowly as she spoke, "What you need to know… is the Red Templars are not acting alone. They're a part of all of it; the Breach, the Venatori… Alexius. It all comes back to some… 'Elder One'. It was he who sundered the Veil and killed the Divine – who nearly killed me – at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. He means to summon a demon army and kill Empress Celene…"

"W-who or what is this 'Elder One'?" Cullen asked disconcertedly, alarmed by the bombardment of bizarre and disturbing evidence, fighting to suppress his immense frustration at Isabeau withholding such critical information.

"I never saw him, but apparently… he's a God. And… what we have to look forward to if – if I do not seal the Breach."

His own hands reflexively reaching for hers at his chest, he squeezed as he dejectedly shook his head at her. "And you thought none of this warranted our immediate attention?"

"Maker's balls – I've hardly had a moment to even process it myself, Cullen! The rest of the Inquisition will be aware soon enough, and in greater detail than I just provided you," Isabeau retorted, pulling her hands from his as she made her way over to the fur rug before the hearth. With a tired stretch, she ran both her hands through her long silvery tresses, unceremoniously plopping down atop the rug before the fireplace. Crossing her arms over her bent knees as she stared into the flames, Isabeau rested her head upon her arms with a sigh, "It's surreal to say… but I've seen what the future could hold, Cullen; I know it's difficult for you to understand, but to have even briefly suffered that life, to have been in a world of such great sorrow… I know it was selfish, but when I was finally back, all I wanted was to appreciate this life."

At her flashing him a yearning stare, Cullen picked up his wine and moved to sit down beside her, the Inquisitor shuffling to press against his side as closely as possible. Sitting in silence peppered only by the various sounds of the licking of flames and the pops of burning wood, the implications behind Isabeau's words began to sink in, Cullen failing to suppress his own morbid curiosity as he wondered at what exactly she'd found…

You… Maker have mercy – she found you.

Realizing with a jarring start just what manner of horrors could have awaited her in such a future, Cullen hooked an arm around her waist and tugged her closer against him. "Oh, Isabeau… I'm sorry. Maker, I- I did not think, did not realize…" he stammered awkwardly, his hand comfortingly rubbing her arm as he held her. She turned in his embrace to look up at his repentant gaze, her misty orbs meeting with his hooded amber.

"We're already losing so much of our freedom as it is… but we stand to lose a great deal more. I won't waste what precious few opportunities remain to us, Cullen." She gave one of this thick thighs an encouraging squeeze, "I remembered what you'd told me of your family back when we were in Hercinia… when I spoke of my intentions to King Alistair, he graciously offered to assist in any way he could."

"I… appreciate that you thought of my family. I'm sure it was… unexpected for them," he admitted awkwardly, turning to tenderly press his lips into the hair at the side of her head as he tried to explain his persistent misgivings. "But I – I suppose that wasn't truly a concern. My… exasperation aside, it is only out of unease – given the severity of what you've learned – that I dare protest at all. I would… be remiss to put the Inquisition at risk for the sake of so… frivolous an endeavor."

"Cullen, what I'm telling you I realized is this: The Inquisition will always be at risk. If nothing else, that nightmare proved to me that we can fail; all the more reason it is important we take our chances, to remind ourselves of what we're fighting for, and to never forget either of those truths," Isabeau argued quietly, her voice low and throaty as she shimmied to lay upon his lap, Cullen's hand moving to rest atop her hip with a comforting squeeze. "I felt enough of that regret with the loss of my father… and now I'll carry a life time of it thanks to Alexius; with it in my power to give, I would see you spared such torment." She brought his other callused hands to her lips, kissing his palm softly as she turned onto her other side to gaze up at him, "It's… at least one of yours I can stop."

Bending his back so he came swooping down over her, Cullen wordlessly gathered all of her that he could into his broad arms, his throat tightening from the upsurge of emotions as the couple affectionately rocked back and forth before the flames. Isabeau was tucked practically into his lap, her hand sliding up and over his chest to start working at the buckles of his gorget and cuirass, Cullen soon yanking his mantle and the articles of armor over his head. Once it had all hit the floor, Isabeau returned to comfortably curl into his chest against nothing but his tunic. She anxiously twirled the leather string at the collar of his shirt between her fingers.

"Are you still cross?"

"No."

"Then… you understand?"

Cullen gently pulled her hand away from its distracted fidgeting, bringing her fingertips to his lips to kiss them gently. "Yes…" he breathed in confirmation before leaning down to kiss her slowly and deeply, his tongue darting between her lips to tease at her own.

When Isabeau responded in kind with a contented moan, Cullen laid back upon the rug, bringing her with him as their kiss continued. Soon his hands were working at the leather threading at the back of her bodice, removing it from around her waist for his hands to immediately push up at her linen chemise. Rising to turn his body so Isabeau was laying beneath him, his hands returned to gliding up her ribs to reveal more flesh from under the blouse, kissing his way down her neck as he did so. When finally the garment was also flung towards the same corner as the bodice, he looked up to alluringly smirk at her as he brought his lips to one of her pale peaks.

"Cullen…" she breathed as her hands immediately shot to his scalp, massaging through his hair as one of her hands snaked down to her breeches. With several impatient tugs, she pulled its laces loose, disrupting Cullen's attentions on her breasts as she shimmied and kicked out of the trousers. She hungrily hooked a leg around Cullen's, pressing his desire tightly against the sopping mound between her legs as she tugged his face towards her with her thumb and finger pinching behind the back of his jaw.

Lips locked tightly together in a lascivious duel, Cullen worked at the laces of his own breeches, moving to stand back up once he'd loosed them enough to slip his cock out, yanking Isabeau up with him as he did so. Nipping at her neck as her hand immediately went to grip and pump at his exposed erection, Cullen stumbled backwards until his back met the solid stone wall, his arms moving to powerfully lift and hook under Isabeau's knees as he used the wall as leverage behind him. Without removing any more of his clothing or armor, he lowered her slowly down upon him, both groaning in appreciative relief as she was soon tightly around him.

"Sweet Maker…" he hissed, pausing only to savor her wetness a little longer before his arms went to work, lifting and supporting her as she rocked against him, the combination of pleasure and muscle strain making Cullen's head swim with desire.

Crying out loudly in her own pleasure, Isabeau pressed herself closer against him as she tightly locked both her arms around his neck, surrendering herself to him as he began to hammer into her more desperately. The couple were slick with the sheen of sweat, Cullen appreciating the contours to her muscles and the bounce of her breasts as she worked just as hard to keep their rigorous ardor going, the burn in Cullen's thighs deliciously adding to his fast approaching finish.

"I'm gonna…! Cullen, I'm gonna – !" Isabeau suddenly mewled breathily against his bristled cheek, her mouth moving to bite at his earlobe as he felt her begin to clench around him, her ensuing moans of ecstasy muffled into the space where his ear and neck met.

With the added sensations, Cullen was soon sent over the edge himself, grunting loudly as he gave a few more desperate pumps before slowly sinking down against the wall, his legs shaky as he did his best to not just collapse into a puddle-like heap. Holding each other as they panted and collected their breaths, Cullen leaned his head down to kiss her forehead, his hand moving to glide his fingers through her long, pale tresses.

"You have no idea how long it has felt… I've waited for that," he mumbled blissfully.

She softly chuckled, "I'm pretty sure I do, actually."

Snorting at her dark humour, he helped her to her feet and lead Isabeau over to the awaiting bed, the Inquisitor flopping down upon it as Cullen began to pull off what remained of his armor and clothes. Toeing off his heavy boots with a solid thud, he moseyed over to the wash basin nearby to quickly wipe himself down before climbing into bed beside her, Isabeau immediately moving to lay across his chest.

"I love you," she whispered tenderly, turning her head to press her lips against his flesh of his chest with a kiss. "You know that, right?"

"I love you, too," he replied earnestly, giving her solid frame a squeeze before his eyes started to grow heavy, the flickering of the hearth's flames lulling him closer to sleep. He felt Isabeau pull away from where she lay across his chest, her shoulder soon pressing to his as she settled down next to him on her back.

"Cullen?"

"Hm?" he grunted sleepily.

When she didn't respond, he cocked open an eye to look over at her beside him, Cullen frowning in concern at the bleary sight of her anxiously biting at her lower lip, her eyes growing glossy with unshed tears as her hands moved to pick at her nails.

"Hey," he whispered as his own large hand moved to soothingly still hers beneath it, craning his neck to tenderly kiss her forehead as he did so. "I'm right here."

Closing her eyes as she rolled onto her side with a shuddering sigh of relief, Isabeau draped an arm over his chest and squeezed, "… Just so."