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Chapter Text

Varric

Varric groaned as he slowly awoke, his head feeling like it would split in two. His vision was so blurred that he could only make out various shades of brown. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried remembering what had happened last night. All he could remember was that blasted seeker trying to get information about Hawke out of him. Of course, he responded with half-truths and omissions. Everything beyond was all black. He tried to move his hands up to his face, but the sounds of chains followed the yanking of his wrists. He looked down at his hands to see them chained around a wooden beam, forcing them into a sort of hug around it. Odd. It almost looked like a beam from the Hull of a ship. Wait!

"Seeker! Turn this shit around!" Varric exclaimed, whipping his head around to try and find the raven-haired woman.

A groan sounded not far from him. He looked towards the sound, hoping to find Cassandra staring at him with a massive amount of guilt and shame. Unfortunately, what he found instead was Cullen Rutherford staring at the ground with a massive amount of guilt and shame. Which was pretty common for the Templar. He raised an eyebrow. The dwarf was still pretty shocked to see him here though. Varric would never have thought Cullen would leave Kirkwall. The man was lying on an old-looking cot. He slowly sat up, holding his head.

"Please, stop shouting," Cullen muttered.

"Curly, my old pal. Help a dwarf out would ya?" Varric said, ignoring the Templar and jingling the shackles around his wrists.

"Don't even think about it, dwarf!" An unpleasantly familiar voice sounded from behind him. He glared at the seeker as she came into view, who, of course, glared back.

The two of them argued for a while. The why and wherefores.

"You kidnapped me? Again?" Varric exclaimed. Cassandra crossed her arms and let out a disgusted scoff.

"I did no such thing! You agreed to accompany me!" Her face hardened even further. "Then you went to The Hanged Man," she added. Varric let his body slump back against the wooden beam as recognition crashed into him like a wave. Lots and lots of ale. That explains the hangover.

"Oh, right. But why am I chained?"

"You were annoying me," Cassandra said, a deep glare that almost split her forehead in two. Varric nodded with a look that said, 'fair'.

It turned out that they were heading to Haven in Ferelden. So that's why Curly's leaving. The man was born and bred in Ferelden. No wonder he would want to return. Varric's eyes fell onto Cullen once again. He could forgive himself for not noticing before, but now the Knight-Captain's condition was glaringly obvious. Something was definitely wrong. The man's face was pale and pallid. He looked as if he had just jumped into the sea with how much he was sweating.

"What's up with Curly over there?" Varric asked Cassandra, his shield of humour dropping and was replaced with concern. The man looked half-dead. Varric knew he was pretty firmly stuck under Meredith's thumb and with her now gone. He must not know what to do with himself, but this wasn't just depression.

"Don't talk like I'm not here," Cullen grouched, running a hand through his damp hair. Alright then, still an arsehole.

"Why do you look and smell like death," Varric said bluntly. Cullen's gormless expression hardened into contempt. Cassandra sighed, but to Varric's surprise, she unlocked the shackles. She glared down at him.

"We'll be arriving soon, prepare yourself," she said before heading up onto the deck. Varric watched as Cullen shrank back into himself, probably hoping Varric wouldn't ask anymore questions. A horrid feeling simmered in his gut. He never thought he'd feel sorry for the guy who sent Bethany to the Circle.

"What happened to you?" He asked in a breathy whisper, almost afraid of the answer. Cullen didn't move. He just continued to stare at the floor.

"My own stupidity, I'm afraid," Cullen choked out. "So terrified that what happened at Kinloch Hold would happen again that I ignored a whole other horror festering under my nose." The man's eyes started turning red as tears carved their way down his face. Varric's heart jumped, he had heard of Kinloch. Of what happened there. It was pretty big news even in The Free Marches. Cullen was one of the survivors? All at once. The handful of encounters with the Knight-Captain came into sharp focus. All the times he was raving about mages, the blonde man almost didn't seem like himself. His eyes wild and voice raised. However, anytime he was talking about anything else he was pretty soft spoken. Like he was afraid of being too loud and bothering someone. He fiddled with his fingers and rubbed the back of his neck with a trembling hand. Varric always wondered about the Knight-Captain. He always felt that something wasn't right about him.

"None of this was solely the Templars' or mages' fault; we were all screwed over. Even the people who didn't have a side," Varric said, thinking on the last several years with a pained grimace.

"I... I didn't want to be a part of a side anymore." There was a long pregnant pause. Full of the fear and pain that mingled in the air in Kirkwall. "I stopped taking lyrium," Cullen muttered finally. Varric's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as he choked on his own spit. He wiped moisture from his eyes when he stopped coughing.

"Can't you... die from that?" Varric asked. He hadn't heard of anyone being able to get off of Lyrium. Most of what he'd heard about the stuff was from the retired Templars in Lowtown as they slowly died from withdrawal. Muttering to themselves, trying to remember their lives before the lyrium.

"Yes, the Templar order used to stand for peace. That is no longer true and I can no longer be a part of it," Cullen said sluggishly.

"Wow, I never thought I'd ever see the day you left the Templars. Poster boy of the 'I hate mages' club," Varric tried to joke, but by the way Cullen shrank even further into himself, he could tell it didn't land.

"I allowed Meredith to convince me of so many things. I allowed abuses of power to stand. I don't want to be that man anymore," Cullen explained. Varric shook his head.

"Meredith was crazy. The lyrium sword drove my brother crazy as well," Varric's words slowed as he thought of his brother, a tightness niggling in his chest.

"I'm sorry to hear that, maybe your brother can be saved though. Meredith's cruelty was present far before she got her hands on that sword," Cullen said. Varric smiled and nodded to the ex-Templar in thanks. His words gave him hope that Bartrand could go back to his normal selfish self.

"Meredith, how was she at the start? You said she was cruel?" Cullen shuddered.

"She sinks her claws into you when you're young and afraid. She knew I was easily swayed. I-I think she liked it," the man was starting to look a little green, disgust marring his face. A chill ran across Varric's shoulders.

"It sounds like she got a sick enjoyment out of it." Cullen nodded.

"Her reasoning was a mystery to me until she ordered me to change out of my armour in her office..." Cullen said in a whisper, almost like he had forgotten Varric was there. Suddenly his eyes snapped onto him. "I shouldn't have said that, I-I apologise," Cullen choked, his face blooming blood red. Varric started, his heart picking up speed as he processed the information.

"W-wait! She w-was...?" Varric's jaw fell slack. He regained his composure when he saw Cullen start to crumble. The man dropped his head into his hands, digging his fingers into his temples. "That's awful," Varric sighed.

"I know I shouldn't have done it, I just didn't know what she would do to me if I said no," Cullen said, full of regret. Varric's eyes widened, horrified at the misunderstanding.

"No! I meant Meredith! That bitch had no right to ask that!" Varric exclaimed, moving to sit on the cot opposite Cullen. "What you did or didn't do has no bearing on the fact that she was wrong! Just her!" Varric said firmly, his eyes never leaving Cullen's. Cullen was silent for a moment, hopefully thinking it over in his head. Varric had had sisters who had experienced similar things and was thankfully pretty rusty with this sort of talk. He wasn't surprised Cullen was blaming himself. It was pretty common among victims of abuse. He just needed some reassurance.

"Cullen, Varric! We have arrived!" Cassandra called from the stairs.

"Coming Seeker!" Varric replied. He turned to Cullen. "Ready?" He whispered. Cullen looked at him in the first time in a while and gave him a small smile.

"Yeah."

Chapter Text

Josephine and Leliana

Josephine stepped into the war room at Haven, jotting down the last of her notes for getting Sera her secret, not-so-secret weapon. Her eyes snapped up as she caught a sweet scent. She smiled. Leliana must have brought the pastries she ordered.

"Thank you, Leliana," Josephine chirped happily. She trotted over to the platter that rested on the war table. Exchanging a fond smile with Leliana.

"My pleasure, Josie," Leliana said as she plucked a croissant off the platter.

"Is it really necessary to eat in the war room?" Cassandra scolded lightly, fighting a smile that threatened her lips. Josephine chuckled and grabbed a muffin.

"We deserve it after the last few months," she said, taking a bite of her well-earned treat.

"Help yourself, Commander," Leliana offered, pushing the platter towards Cullen. Josephine looked over at the man as the room grew silent. The three woman looked over at their Commander, wondering if he was upset at them eating in the war room. However, it was quickly clear that that wasn't the case. Cullen's eyes stared at nothing, unfocused and slightly red. His face was pale and covered in sweat that threatened to release his unruly curls.

"Commander?" Cassandra said with concern, her hand hovering over Cullen's arm.

Josephine's heart skipped a beat as Cullen started to stumble, his hands slipping on his pommel.

"Cullen!" Josephine exclaimed, dropping her muffin and reaching out to Leliana in horror. Thankfully, Cassandra was able to stop his head from cracking against the floor, placing it on her knees.

"What's the matter with him?" Josephine exclaimed, tears welling in her eyes. Cassandra looked up at them indecisively, almost guiltily.

"Cullen will not be pleased, but it's best if you know," Cassandra said. Josephine kneeled next to Cullen taking his hand in hers as she nodded eagerly for Cassandra to continue. "Cullen has stopped taking Lyrium, indefinitely, hopefully," Cassandra finished. Josephine looked down at the pallid face of her friend and sighed wetly. All this suffering and he didn't think to let them know? To let them help?

"Maker's breath! Why did he think he could deal with this alone?" Leliana exclaimed, crossing her arms and shaking her head. Cassandra looked up at the bard.

"He's a very private man, and... I don't think he used to having friends," Cassandra said mournfully. Leliana huffed.

"Stupid man! We should get him to a bed, he won't want to go to the healer's cabin," Leliana said harshly, affection bleeding through.

Josephine gently brushed a few sweaty curls from Cullen's face. She had taken his mantle, chest plate and boots off to make him more comfortable. Thankfully, it seemed to have stopped him from sweating so much. Adan had left a tincture for him, which made Josephine wonder how many others knew of Cullen's condition. All those others, but not her or Leliana. Maybe it was silly, but she saw Cullen as a little brother, of sorts. She loved teasing him about his nervousness around the herald. Loved poking and prodding with Leliana and Cassandra. If anyone were to talk ill of him. The three of them wouldn't let it stand. They had created a tight unit in their little war room. She wondered if he didn't feel the same. He always kept them at arm's length. A tear slipped down her face as she closed her eyes. This was awful.

She flinched, throwing her eyes open when something touched her face. She looked down at Cullen. His amber eyes stared up at her as he brushed the tear from her face with the back of his hand.

"What's the matter?" He croaked in concern. Josephine gasped, grabbing the tincture from the bedside table.

"He's awake!" She called to nowhere in particular, knowing Leliana and Cassandra would hear. Two pairs of footsteps ran into the room.

"Cullen! What did I say about looking after yourself?" Cassandra scolded. Cullen dropped his hand and raised an eyebrow.

"What? What happened?" Cullen questioned, trying to sit up until Leliana pushed him back down.

"You fainted in the war room," Leliana explained, an expertly groomed eyebrow raised in disapproval. Cullen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I was just tired," he said.

"Don't even try it. Cassandra told us everything. Everything we should have known from the beginning!" Leliana said, her voice close to a yell. Cullen flinched, looking over at Cassandra. Who looked sick with guilt. Cullen growled.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't find the right time to tell you that your Commander is an unreliable addict!" He shouted, his face contorted in anger. Josephine let out a miserable cry.

"Don't say that! Please!" She pleaded, watching as his face softened from anger to misery.

"We don't care about how useful you are! We care about you, you stupid man!" Leliana shouted, her face turning pink and her eyes growing wet. Cullen flinched, looking down at his lap.

"I'm sorry. I haven't been surrounded by people who care since I was 13. I'm not used to it," Cullen cried between attempts to hide his tears. Josephine looked at Leliana.

"You know what this means, right?" Josephine said with a fragile smile. Leliana smirked with a nod. "Group hug! You'll get used to it in no time with a good strong hug!" Josephine chirped, throwing her arms around Cullen. Leliana pulled Cassandra in and joined Josephine in the hug. Cullen and Cassandra both let out grumpy complaints that went unheard. Josephine let out a laugh, full of pain and love. For this silly man who had no idea how loved he was.

"Thank you, for caring."

Chapter Text

Floe Lavellan and Dorian

Floe lifted the sword with a strained grunt. She blushed and looked around to see if anyone was watching her struggle. Thankfully, Cullen was turned away from her grabbing his own sparring sword. However, she caught the cheeky smirk of Dorian who had sat on a tree stump to watch her. He gave her a thumbs-up full of mirth, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Floe glanced at Cullen, who was still inspecting the sparring swords meticulously. Only his third time doing so that day. When Floe was sure he was preoccupied he rushed over to Dorian, trying to keep the metal sparring sword off the ground. Her cheeks puffed in frustration as the Altus started laughing at her approach.

"Oh, quiet you!" Floe huffed, her pale cheeks glowing pink. Dorian tried to hide his snickers behind a hand adorned with rings, muttering apologies between them. "You're going to embarrass me in front of Cullen!" She whined, the sword dangling awkwardly in her hands.

"Me?" Dorian exclaimed, his hands raising in defence.

"You're going to distract me, and I'll mess up, and Cullen will think I'm a fool, and I'll go to my room and die of embarrassment!" Floe cried out rapidly.

"Well I am quite distracting, I can't rightfully blame you," he said with all his beauty and charm. Floe sighed weakly as fondness took over.

"You are, ma falon," she said with fond annoyance.

"As are you, amatus. It seems we have the attention of your beloved Commander," Dorian said, his voice like velvet. Floe turned swiftly, her white braid whipping over her shoulder. Just in time to see Cullen looking at them before he promptly looked away. He looked annoyed. Had she done something? Was she taking too long?

"Looks like someone is jealous," Dorian sang mischievously.

"Of who?" She asked, her cracked heart ready to be shattered. Dorian was a beautiful man. She couldn't blame Cullen for falling for him. Dorian tutted and shook his head.

"Sweet dalish child, are you really that oblivious?" Dorian said. Floe was silent, trying to decipher what he meant. Dorian tutted again. "He wants you, preferably over his desk," he said crassly. Dorian's smirk grew as her face grew hot. What? Is Dorian telling the truth? He wouldn't lie to her, and he knew everything. He was very smart.

"Inquisitor? You ready?" Cullen's call sounded, sending a jolt of anxiousness into her heart. Dorian chuckled.

"He's putting up a fight," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She turned to see what he was talking about and almost fell in shock. Cullen had discarded his tunic, his sweaty skin catching the light. Floe's face felt like it was on fire. Her sword fell to the ground as her hands turned to jelly. She'd only seen a shem without a shirt on a few times. They were huge and hairy. Nothing like the elves in her clan. It was beautifully alien. Cullen was especially beautiful.

"How about I start this training session off," Dorian said suddenly, grabbing the sword she had dropped on the ground. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, causing Cullen to look away with a grumpy expression. Maybe Dorian was right. Cullen was jealous? "You are going to owe me for this," Dorian whispered before swaggering over to Cullen.

"Winner gets a kiss from the lovely Inquisitor," he said. Floe squeaked and gaped at Dorian. What on Thedas was he doing? Cullen glared and growled, raising his sword to point at Dorian.

"How dare you treat the Inquisitor with such disrespect!" Cullen scolded, the veins on his neck bulging. Dorian rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.

"Chantry boys," he huffed. "She's fine with it!" He exclaimed and looked to her for backup. Floe floundered for a second before nodding bashfully.

"I-I, um, y-yes," she stuttered, wincing at herself.

"Now, en garde, or whatever," Dorian proclaimed haphazardly, surging forward to swipe at Cullen. Cullen's stance fell into place expertly, his face hardening into focus. He easily parried Dorian's attack and surged forward. He manoeuvred his sword around to hit his pommel into Dorian's sternum, winding him. Dorian sputtered and fell to the ground, his hands coming up to signal a time-out.

"Y-you won. Amatus, remember me as the devastatingly handsome mage that I was," Dorian groaned out, his voice strained, but still mirthful. Floe ran over to him and helped him to his feet.

"'Are you alright?" She asked, concern twisting her features. Dorian chuckled fondly.

"I'm fine, go to him, silly!" Dorian encouraged in a whisper, gently pushing her towards Cullen. The Commander looked even more annoyed than before as he watched them. Or maybe... jealous? She walked over to him, a nervous smile on her face.

"W-we don't have to..." Cullen stuttered out as she reached him, taking a step back from her. She froze, her body growing hot with horror. He didn't like her after all. She knew it! There was just no way. A man like him wanting an elf like her. She swore that she heard Dorian cursing behind her. However, she couldn't focus on it for long before Cullen's nose suddenly started bleeding. She gasped and quickly took her handkerchief from her pocket.

"Cullen! Are you okay?" She exclaimed, gently pressing the handkerchief under his nose. His eyes were wide, and his face was red. His hand was trembling as it took hold of her handkerchief. She was frozen; she didn't want to let go, though she did, of course.

"I-I need to s-sit down," he muttered weakly. He brought himself down to the grass, leaning against a training dummy. Floe knelt next to him. She turned to Dorian.

"Can you get my waterskin, please?" She said. Dorian nodded, doing as she asked, hastily. Cullen's face looked pale, sickly. She thanked Dorian and gave the waterskin to Cullen.

"Here, you should drink," Floe said. He chugged the water like a man dying of thirst, chest heaving. Floe blushed and tried to ignore the fact that she was so close to a shirtless shem.

"Guess you got that kiss another way, Commander," Dorian joked through his own concern. Cullen choked, water sputtering from his mouth. His face bloomed red, stretching down his neck and chest. Creators preserve her.

"I'm sorry, Inquisitor. I wouldn't have taken it if I knew-"

"It's Floe, and it's alright, I gave it to you," she said, cutting Cullen off.

"Too gentlemanly for your own good," Dorian said, obviously not impressed. "Now are you going to tell us what's going on with you?" He added, his lips pursing. Cullen sighed.

"Inq- F-Floe, I didn't want you to find out," he said mournfully. Floe started. What did he mean?

"Find out what?"

"You know how I told you about Templars and lyrium?" Floe nodded. "I'm not taking lyrium anymore. The physical side effects are... trying," she explained, grief and shame clear on his face.

"You say this like you're evil for it," Floe said, confused. She blanched when Cullen took her hands in his, staring at her with those puppy eyes he does.

"I want to do right by you-b-by the Inquisition. If I can't do my job-"

"But you can! I know you can! And now, I'll be there to help you!" Floe cried, tears welling up in her eyes. Cullen stared at her with a searching look, his hands tightening around hers. She had never felt or seen hands so huge. How did shem men sow, or weave baskets?

"You have the whole Inquisition behind you, Cullen," Dorian said kindly. Floe smiled encouragingly, giving his hands a squeeze. "Now, for the maker's sake, just kiss her already!"

"Dorian!"

Chapter Text

Solas and Cole

Solas wandered down towards the stable leisurely. He was searching for Cole, hoping he would find the spirit there. The young man spent hours with the horses. Petting and talking to them like he would any other member of the Inquisition. Floe often sat with him, chatting as he assumed she'd do in her clan, with the Halla, of course. She and the spirit had become quite close, to the point that she had become quite protective of the boy. It warmed his heart that another understood Cole as he did. He couldn't help the paternal instincts that fought their way to the surface when he was with the boy. He could tell Floe felt the same. If only she felt the same as him in other ways.

Solas' hopeful attitude was stomped out as his eyes caught sight of Floe, Cole and... Cullen. They all sat on a red and gold blanket, littered with little plates of different foods. What the Shemlan would call a picnic. The Dalish don't have such things, of course, they always eat outside. Floe was becoming more and more interested in Shemlan ways. It disturbed him.

"What do we do now?" Floe asked eagerly, practically buzzing with excitement. Cullen chuckled fondly.

"Whatever you like, usually my siblings and I would run around causing chaos while our parents eat," he explained. Solas frowned as he watched Floe hang on every word the commander said. He approached the trio, his arms folded behind his back.

"Hello Solas," Cole greeted. Solas smiled at the spirit, unsurprised that he noticed Solas' approach first.

"Good morning, Da’len," Solas replied, happy to share his language with the beloved spirit. Floe perked up as her eyes met his.

"Solas, Andaran atish’an!" She greeted cheerfully, making his heart bloom with love. His eyes met the Commander's for a fraction of a second. A smirk threatened to stretch his face. The contempt on his face was clear, as was the secret war waging between them. At least to most of Skyhold, it was, but not to whom it really mattered.

"Solas, greetings," Cullen said as cordially as he could.

"What is going on here, Lethallan?" Solas asked Floe, opting to ignore the ex-templar. Floe placed her hand on Cullen's arm.

"Cullen was showing me how to picnic!" She said excitedly with Cole nodding along, equally as enthused.

"Sharing food is like sharing memories. Sating, soothing, it sings with togetherness," Cole added. Solas smiled, especially pleased at Cullen's confused expression as he looked at Cole. That's one thing Solas would always have over the ex-templar, the shared love for Cole. The understanding that the three of them cherished.

"It's lovely, isn't it?" Floe said to Cole, her hands moving to gently grasp the spirit's hands. Solas opened his mouth to speak, but Cullen was faster.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Cole. I know yesterday was a stressful day for you," Cullen said. Solas' brows furrowed, the Commander seemed genuine. Solas never expected Cullen to care about Cole's affairs. Yesterday they got word of Rhys and Avangeline's rescue. Both worrying and relieving news. Cole had been quite anxious since he found out.

"It surprises me that you would care much for Cole's friends," Solas said distastefully before he could stop it. Cullen didn't look surprised by his jab, just annoyed. The man rolled his eyes and tutted.

"My soldiers were a part of the rescue effort, and I volunteered because I knew how dear these people were to Cole," Cullen said reluctantly, clearly embarrassed by having to mention any affinity to the boy.

"Young boy with golden hair. Just one last game, big brother," Cole added, a small smile on his face. Cullen's face immediately turned red, glaring up at Solas from where he sat.

"Branson?" Floe whispered to him, receiving a nod in reply.

"Memories shape people. Even if the memories aren't yours," Cole explained. "Lyrium would snatch them away. Swamped with blue light. Reaching. Regaling. I can't remember my father's face." Solas started. He had a feeling that Cullen was cutting down, but was he truly quitting? An honourable endeavour, but alas, it was most likely fruitless. No Templar has ever been able to completely leave Lyrium behind.

"Solas, we'd like to continue our picnic, if you please," Floe said politely, but there was a sternness underneath. She was grasping onto Cullen's hand, running her thumb over it gently.

Solas turned without a word, frustration bubbling up in his stomach. We'd won. The Templar had won her heart. He'd thrown himself into his murals after that day, trying to distract himself from how many times Floe passed him to head towards Cullen's office.

Chapter Text

Cullen yawned and stretched out his sluggish limbs. It was still strange not waking up with the sun bearing down on him. Floe had helped him to deal with his claustrophobia. She helped a lot, and eventually staring at the ceiling no longer made him feel like he was back at the Circle. It's funny, now that he didn't have to get up early he found himself doing so anyway. Back in the Inquisition getting up in the mornings was almost impossible. The pain was unbearable. Now his muscles felt strong. He was energetic. He felt truly alive for the fight time since before Kinloch. He'd gone to a healer a couple of months ago who deemed him completely free of Lyrium withdrawal.

Floe's yawning sounded beside him. He smiled, feeling foolish being so giddy after all this time. However, this is something he will allow himself. They deserved it. Floe deserved it. Cullen reached towards Floe and ran his fingers over her stump. He would love to be face-to-face with that coward, Solas. Make him pay. The only reason he lives is because of Floe's heart. She could send that fool back to the fade in a heartbeat. She could bring the whole world down with her power, but she doesn't. She holds the world close, gentle. Keeps it safe. Even when it isn't thankful.

"Cullen, you're doing your grumpy face," Floe croaked, sleep still in her throat. They shared a laugh. Cullen couldn't look away from Floe's frost coloured eyes. Her hair billowed around her head. The freckles that dusted her cheeks. It was all so perfectly her.

Floe squealed as their Mabari, Lance jumped onto the bed. The dog snuffled at the covers, pawing and trying to get under.

"No, Lance! No dogs on the bed!" Cullen scolded, unable to add much heat. Floe laughed joyfully, hugging the huge dog to her side.

"Yes! All doggies on the bed!" Floe cooed, kissing Lance on the side of his muzzle. Cullen rolled his eyes fondly and begrudgingly accepted the slobbering dog under the covers.

Floe had insisted they return to his childhood village after the Inquisition disbanded. Build a life there with Mia a few doors down. He couldn't be happier. Honnleath was home. For once, he felt safe. Mia was ecstatic too. She was always coming over, bringing his nieces and nephews. He would teach the eldest, Emelie how to use a sword. The young girl showed real promise and a good heart. She'll do much better for the world than he ever did. He'd taken a job teaching young men and women to protect the village against any bandits or rogue demons that still lingered. It was fulfilling work. Protecting his home.

Cullen stood from his study, a letter to Cassandra in his hand. She had threatened that if he didn't write she'd come to Honnleath and smack his curled hair straight. He believed her. He was about to take it outside to his raven before he heard a cry from his and Floe's room. He threw the letter on his desk and rushed into their bedroom, his heart suddenly running a mile a minute. He burst through the door, eyes darting to Floe sitting on their bed. Her face was pale, and her mind was clearly far away. Cullen knelt in front of her.

"Floe, what happened?" He asked, placing his hands on her knees, squeezing them comfortingly. Finally, her eyes met his, tiny tears kissing the corners.

"I-I felt ill, a-and my bleed is.. late," she said delicately. Cullen furrowed his brows in thought before what she said truly set in. His body grew hot as adrenaline ravaged it.

"Wait, y-your...?"

"Yes..." Floe gave him a wobbly smile. Cullen let out a joyous yell and hauled Floe into his arms. They laughed and cried as they embraced.

"I can't believe it! I thought Lyrium meant we couldn't."

"Never say never!" Floe said, squealing as Cullen spun them playfully. Cullen never imagined that his life could be so perfect. He was far from the scared little boy he used to be. Now, he wasn't Knight-Captain or Commander, he was just Cullen.