Mrs. Evelyn Ruthurford is in her late 60's. The creases in her face tell a story, she's a tough old girl, and her youngest son, Cullen, has her eyes. In fact he takes after his mother quite a bit, her quiet strength, wry humour, and compassion were attributes his mother taught him to embrace. She doesn't think he visits nearly enough, none of her children do, particularly her sons. Still even decades after he left for Templar training, Evelyn still feels the hollow place his absence carved in her heart. Her youngest son, so like herself. He is sitting in her kitchen now, with his wife, the inquisitor, a noble no less, and Evelyn is so proud, bursting to the brim with it, he has scares, she can see them, both on his skin and on his soul, and she wishes she knew what he's endured, she wises the fierce embrace she gave him when he surprised her could erase all the hurt he's experienced. Wishes she could have held that thirteen year old boy so eager to grow up a little longer, infuse him with more….more love, more strength, more caution, but it serves no one to dwell on the past, and he is relaxed, and happy.

"What was Cullen like as a child?" Alfie, the cat has curled up on the Inquisitors lap, purring loudly when pet.

Evelyn looks to her son, who's already starting to colour. Still embarrassed, Maker guard his dignity. Evelyn pats his knee and hushes him despite him not having said anything at all. She knows.

"Cullen, was a terrible newborn. Colic. The world was too much for him, and he raged at the Maker for bringing him into the world before he was ready. Oh, he wasn't early, he was full term, and a healthy nine pounds ten ounces, but HE wasn't ready, if he had had his way, he would have stayed beside my beating heart giving me indigestion for another five months. He was comfortable, and safe, and the world was too bright, and too loud, and Maker who are these siblings of mine, would they just stop touching me, and so he cried, for 2 months." Evelyn gives her son a wink, and he rolls his eyes at her, his wife laughs.

"Cullen was a cautious toddler. While his older brother and sister enjoyed giving me grey hairs by jumping off anything and everything they could get away with, Cullen was content to build a castle with his blocks, or spend hours with the picture books. I had to push him out the door to play and run outside because he wanted to stay inside with me in the kitchen where it was quiet."

"They were loud!" Cullen defends with a chuckle.

"You don't need to tell me! As a boy he was more accepting of playing with his siblings and friends, accepting, because he still sought out the quiet places, sometimes with his books, others with just his imagination." She looks at her boy, a man grown and her heart fills, and hurts remembering how he used to tell her about all the adventures he went on around his tree and his lake. "He was sensitive, easy to tease, easy to cry, and his siblings took advantage of that trait every chance they could, because they knew they could get a rise out of him. I don't blame you for wanting to be alone, love." Evelyn gives him a knowing smile. He's staring at a spot on the floor, his lips tug back into the faintest of grins, his wife threads her fingers in his, and Evelyn knows she's seen the sensitivity in him, understands it, embraces it, loves it about him as much as she does.

"He was too smart for his own good, just like his sister Mia, and generous to a fault. If I gave him anything he would share with others until he came back sad as a kicked puppy because he didn't get any."

"She used to sit me at the table with my treats so that I actually got my share." Cullen supplies.

"There was a little girl back in Honnleath, Tessa, she was Cullens best friend, the two of them were inseparable for a time. Until one day Templars came and took her. She was a mage. After that Cullen spent all his time at the Chantry, learning about Templars, because he wanted to be the one to protect his friend, he became very serious, with a singular purpose. The knight Captain humoured him, gave him a wooden sword, and he would spend hours practicing. If he couldn't practice with his sword he was challenging Mia or Edmund to a chess match. You even settled for poor little Kate a handful of times."

"She hated it, always quite the game early." He chuckled, remembering his younger sister's frustrated attempts at chess.

"You never did tell me if Tessa was at Kinloch Hold when you got there." Evelyn queries.

"She was made Tranquil." He swallows the rest, wanting the visit to remain happy. Evelyn nods and does not press. Instead she leans in, grasping the Inquisitors hands.

"I love all my children, what parent couldn't, but my Cullen, he was special, still is, a kind heart and an old soul. Where Edmond is his father, and Mia my wild girl, and Kate sweet as honey, Cullen was mine, my quiet, complicated boy. The Maker put him in my hands and said this one is made from your soul." She felt the hard lump in her throat.

"Mum?" Cullen furrowed his brow.

"He is special, he is strength and wisdom and kindness, and he needs to be handled with care, and my dear I am so happy he's found you." Evelyn stopped, squeezing the inquisitors hands, an understanding passing between them. I'm trusting you with him.

The front door of the farm house opened and soon a cacophony filled the space, the rest of the Rutherfords, Edmund and his wife, and their three children , Mia, and her husband, and their two girls, Kate with a small babe in arms. All so similar in looks but so different.

"Is mum going on again about how Cullen's the favorite?" Mia shouted jovially from across the room before rushing to her brother grasping him in a fierce hug, joined quickly by their younger sister. Edmund waited for his sisters to release his brother before pulling him into a bear hug.

"So I hear there's going to be another Rutherford soon?" Edmund looked to the Inquisitor who smiled and was then summarily swarmed by her two sisters in law.