Candles sputtered across the desk, tipping as the last wax of the day dribbled in a puddle. He should have stopped an hour ago, maybe two, but there was much to do. There was always work remaining.

Cullen reached for a fresh quill when his hand shuddered, thudding into the ink pot and scattering it to the floor. Closing his eyes, he turned his head upwards and repeated a small portion of the chant. Cassandra suggested it, and while he doubted it helped with the withdrawals, it did keep him from bashing his bookcase in half.

Wiping at the exhaustion in his eyes, he lowered to his knees, hunting for the scattered ink. Trails of black puddles led beneath his desk. "Ah," he muttered, crawling under the desk and reaching.

A knock reverberated on his southern door. Odd for the late hour, but it was soft and polite. Most likely not another invasion force. "Come in," he shouted. The sneaky ink pot surrendered to his reach as the sounds of the opened door echoed through his empty lair.

"Hello, Cullen."

He jumped to his knees at that voice; that never forgotten but always out of reach voice. Too bad the desk remained in the way. "Sonofa..." he cursed, massaging the back of his head. With one hand keeping track of the desk overhang, he rose. A woman stood lingering in the doorway. Despite the drawn cowl shadowing her face, he'd know that twist of her hair, that curve of cheek, and those soulful eyes anywhere.

"Are you all right?" she asked, concern in her voice.

"I...yes, it was nothing," he answered, holding out the inkpot as if it was an explanation.

She smiled and tipped her head to the open door, "May I come in?"

"Of course, yes. I mean, please, enter."

Softly closing the door, she pulled down the hood. Age had been gracious to her. Despite the ten years, a darkspawn army, an archdemon and whatever wardens got up to after a blight she was as beautiful as he remembered. He searched for a chair before remembering the only one was overflowing with books he kept meaning to put away.

"I...we were informed you were elsewhere, Lady Amell."

She smiled, "I think we can drop the honorifics, Commander."

"Right," Cullen nodded, trying to find enough saliva to get a word out.

"Would 'I was in the neighborhood' suffice?" she said, lifting half her lips in a small smile. "In truth, I would prefer few know I am here given the...issues with the wardens."

"I can understand that," Cullen said before catching himself, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, whatever demon Corypheus summoned no longer pulls at the calling. But, I heard about his control of tainted mages so I will not be staying long."

"Why risk it?" he asked, then flinched at the words sounding as if he wished she never came.

"I was truthful when I informed the Inquisitor that I knew nothing of this supposed Magister. I still know less than you, but there was something else. Something I thought he should know." She leaned upon her staff, simple in design and carved to mimic a walking stick. Only a small griffin at the top gave a hint to the power of the wielder.

Taking a deep breath she added, "And I had to thank him."

"For?"

The small smile slipped as her eyes fell, "For saving the wardens, for saving my warden."

"We lost Hawke," Cullen said, bitterness in the words.

In the candlelight, the weight of not just a decade but the future of nations fell across her face. Lines he never noticed crushed around her eyes, her flat brow furrowing, "Did you know we were related? Distantly, some second cousin thrice removed nonsense. But...Hawke was the only family I knew."

"I'm sorry."

"We all are," she said shaking her head. "The damn wardens, guarding their secrets they claim to protect the world or is it to protect themselves from the world? I can never tell anymore. Forgive me. It has not been an easy time of late."

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, jostling the bump rising. "I...many were surprised you were not at Adamant."

"Another mage sacrificing her brothers for Clarel?"

"No, that's not what I meant-"

"It's okay, Cullen. I did got on well with the Warden hierarchy...to put it mildly. The First Warden was curious about my power, most of the other commanders glared at the upstart who took away their once change at a blight." She sighed, "If I knew so many wanted a crack at it, I'd have gladly stepped aside. But I seem to remember there were only two of us that year, building an army from nothing, repelling a civil war, while the rest of the Wardens sat around waiting for Ferelden to fall."

Cullen slid around his desk crossing the gulf between them. She didn't seem to notice, her eyes staring through the walls at the rest of Thedas outside. Pushing aside some of the work, he leaned against his desk, "They sound as bad as the order."

Shrugging, she said, "Good men make bad decisions for the sake of the world. Throw it under the cover of darkness, refuse to speak of it, secret it all away and what do you think will happen?"

"Is that what's coming for us? What's waiting in Weisshaupt?"

"I wish I knew," she shook her head, pinching at the top of her nose. "I came to tell your Inquisitor about a talking darkspawn I crossed paths with in Amaranthine."

"I'd heard about that, as I'm certain Leliana did," Cullen said. A lot of the Hero's antics made for good tales even around the templar barracks. Many spoke in hushed tones, afraid that mentioning the famous mage, even if she was a Warden, could bring the knight-commander down upon them.

"Well, it turns out that was not the whole story. Even what little I knew at the time was some big Warden secret they didn't feel I deserved to know. Now...as I said, I am uncertain if it will help defeating Corypheus, but it couldn't hurt. I left all the research I found with the Inquisitor. He, he seems a good man."

Cullen's eyes glanced to the dent where his kit smashed into the doorframe. Josephine tried to have it patched over but he insisted it remain. It was a good reminder to not push himself so hard. "Yes, he is."

"What you need, not what you want. That sounds familiar," she said smiling to herself. Clearing a small spot, she hopped up onto the desk beside Cullen. The smell of brimstone and horse wafted towards him as she kicked her dangling feet, but buried underneath was a mixture of lavender and rosemary. It was a popular scent the apprentices mashed together to paint across their pulse points while batting eyes at each other. It pulled his mind so far back, he feared he'd snap.

"Why..." Cullen's voice cut deep, a tremble in the words, "why did you come to see me? After all I did, all I said."

"Cullen..."

"I, I was terrible to you. The things I said after you found me, rescued me," he knotted his hands, unable to meet her eyes. "To tell you, order you to kill all your friends, everyone you'd known and...I'm sorry."

Silence followed his words. He felt her watching him, those warm eyes hunting across his profile, but he couldn't turn to her, wouldn't look. She leaned back upon her hands, her voice rough, "I saw what happened in the circle tower, what...what Uldred did to them. I've seen the effects of malifecarum, of abominations, the horrors mages can unleash when backed into a corner."

Cullen turned towards her. The soft candlelight watered her eyes as she gazed ever outward to the past. Slowly she twisted to him and said, "I saw what happened there, I didn't live it."

He fought back a sob, catching himself against the shuddering wall. But she didn't turn from him, instead she picked up his hand and held it tightly. Cullen shook his head, trying to clear it and distance himself, yet he still clung to her, "And what of Kirkwall? You must have heard what occurred there."

"Every mage in Thedas heard about Kirkwall."

"There is no excuse for what I did. What I, what I let happen."

She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, still keeping her other fingers knotted around his. After a time she muttered with a snort, "I placed as much blame upon my shoulders as you do now when I heard the full tale."

"Why?"

For a moment she looked as if she'd explain but she waved it away, "It is an old wound, a choice made in the heat of battle that will hang upon my neck, but not one to burden you with. What drove the chantry to send you to Kirkwall?"

"Gregor allocated me to a small chapel when the blight ended. I," Cullen sighed, dredging up the past with the last person he ever wanted to, "I couldn't stand being around mages. He searched for a quiet place where I could whittle away my days. But I wanted to serve. I turned that pain to a fire, a drive to protect every man and woman in Thedas from magic. Even if Meredith hadn't sent for me, I'd have requested a transfer."

He turned from her, the confession and shame burning up his throat. But she didn't curse him, didn't rise in anger, or storm out of the room.

She only whispered in a voice as raw as his own, "That is what they do. They carve us, mold us, hone us to fight for their cause, but when we break they toss us aside. Or worse, they use the broken edge to inflict more damage, chipping away at us until nothing remains. Taking the time to mend the broken is never worth it."

Cullen closed his eyes, the infernal whispers of the past nibbling at the edges of his thoughts. Was that the same for Grey Wardens? Did they face a life of the voices beating them down until they could no longer fight it? He squeezed her hand and she broke from her reprieve to smile at him.

"I'm no longer taking lyrium," the words slipped unbidden from him. Cullen shook his head at the absurdity, as if she'd care.

But she twisted her smile up, "I know."

"You do?"

"Having a close friendship with a spymaster will do that. Gets you into mountainous holds in the dead of night as well."

"I'll have to guard my secrets better around Leliana," Cullen muttered.

"It does not just come from her," she said. "There are others across Thedas, Templars trying to free themselves the same as you."

Cullen rubbed his face, "I hope they have a better go at it."

"They look to you, commander of the Inquisition forces breaking free and there is hope."

He tipped his head back and tried to not think of another weight upon his broken shoulders. "That's not a lot to live up to," he joked.

She laughed, "Welcome to my world. If you can, stay out of the Fade. It never ends well."

"Are Grey Wardens scooping up lost Templars across Thedas?"

"No...?" she shook her head, lost at his meaning, but it dawned slowly the question of why she'd ever speak to a templar. "You were in Kirkwall a long time. Not all mages hate Templars."

"And not all Templars hate mages," he said.

"I am heartened to hear you say that."

"It cost a lot for me to remember," Cullen muttered.

"I know," her words fell like logs onto the pyre.

"You do?"

She dropped his hand and rose. Stretching her legs, she didn't walk towards the door, but stopped before the bookcase. Her delicate fingers picked at a few spines before she noticed the crack along the shelf. "Did you ever speak to Alistair?"

"Hawke's Warden? Only for a moment. I inquired if he needed anything and he asked where the privy's were."

"Of course he did. He was with me when we stopped Uldred."

"I thought he looked familiar," Cullen said. Leliana was there as well, a fact she mercifully never brought up. He hoped she'd fully forgotten about that young Templar caught in a cage, braying for mage blood.

She turned away from the shelves, her eyes twisted in past pain, "Alistair was a Templar."

"He never requested any lyrium, or do Wardens have their own supply?"

"We do for the mages and the rare Templar that takes it, but Alistair was recruited to the Wardens before he took his vows, before he fell under that yoke."

"I...why is this important?"

She shook her head, "This has gone so far off script, I'm sorry." A slow blush climbed up her cold cheeks. The blight, the war, it all faded away. She was an apprentice skipping class to feed a lost nug and he the recently vowed Templar sent to find her. Her hair was longer, kept in a braid with a ribbon knotted at the end. Maker, how badly he wanted to untie it, to loosen the plaits. The braid was cut to a sensible length now; the life of a Warden couldn't afford the luxury of long hair.

"This is stupid to mention," Cullen said, "but I had a...minor infatuation with you in the tower."

And those beautiful eyes rolled wide as she said, "You do not say." Then she grinned wide and shrugged her shoulders, "I confess, I may have had one as well."

"Oh?" He'd heard the whispers, mages loved their gossip and most could make an archdemon out of a dragonling, but they only spoke of him being in love with her. There was never a mention of it being shared.

She stuck her hands on her hips, "Come now. Surely you own a looking glass. It shouldn't be that great of a surprise."

"I, uh," he felt a burn rising around his collar and shifted on his toes, "I assumed you were interested in that mage always hanging about your arm."

"Jowan," the name was emotionless, a broken edge.

"Or one of the other mages," he trampled the words, trying to cover the stumble.

"No, it seems I am cursed to fall for blonde haired men with soft hearts and flustered demeanors."

"I am not flustered," Cullen said.

"Oh, so it was someone else who ran away after my Harrowing just because I said I wanted to get to know him better?"

He laughed lightly, "Very well, I was flustered."

"'Was?' Very well, I'll let you keep the illusion," she smiled, then shrugged her shoulders, "There but for the maker's grace..."

"Are you happy?" he asked, wishing he'd spoken to that Warden about more than just the state of the midden.

"I would be happier if the Wardens hadn't tried to destroy themselves, if the man I love hadn't physically walked in the fade and threatened to sacrifice himself...again," she closed her eyes and glanced upward. After a moment the smile returned and she added, "Aside from all that, yes. I am happy."

"Good. I'm glad."

"And what of you, Cullen? Are you happy?"

He brushed his fingers against the piles of work: the reports, the requests, everything necessary to stop Corypheus. "I have much to atone for. What I've done..." his eyes burned behind the lids, struggling to find the words.

Laying the staff against the desk, she crossed towards him. Before he could react, she slipped her arms around his back and pulled him close. He laid his head against her shoulder and for the first time in a decade, took a proper breath.

As she stepped away from him, his arms fell slack. "You looked like someone who needed a hug," she laughed, but tears welled in her eyes. He smiled, suspecting he may not have been the only one.

Lady Amell wiped at her face and picked up her staff. "I'm afraid I have to go. I should not be inside Skyhold by the time the sun rises."

"Do you require an escort out of the mountains?" he asked, but she shook her head.

"Leliana wants to get 'caught up.' Maker's breath, never let her know if you fancy anyone. If Alistair knew the fullness of what I've told her..."

"I will take that under advisement," he said, trying to act as if his entire life wasn't tossed across that desk.

She bowed her head, "I pray you defeat Corypheus, for all our sakes."

"We're going to do our best."

"I know, the Inquisition is in good hands," she smiled slowly at him, then pulled at the door. The crisp mountain air curled around her, a cold night awaiting her.

"Cullen..." She paused in the doorway, her fingers running along the break in the wood, "when I first met you, as you helped me round up that escaped nug I knew you to be a good man. I'm glad to see he's back."

"As am I," he answered.