It was a still afternoon as Cullen sat in the Chantry garden, looking out over the crashing waves of the Waking Sea. It had been two years, and yet the nightmares still haunted him. He was certain that the Knight-Commander had only meant well by sending him to Greenfell.

"You can return as soon as you get better."

As soon as he stopped twitching at every odd noise; as soon as he would stop panicking whenever he felt magic being used; and while Greenfell was far away from Kinloch Hold and its mages, he felt no better now than when he had gotten away from his cage at the Tower. Irving had died and she had left again, and trying to forget about her was about as easy as trying to forget about the blood mages who had poisoned his mind against her.

Time heals all wounds, The Revered Mother had told him when he had first arrived. Did it heal the memories of having pushed away the one he loved as well?

Every now and then he would think that he was better again, and then a traveller or a merchant would stop by the small fishing village with news, and it made the pain come back with renewed strength.

The Blight is over! The Archdemon was killed at the top of Fort Drakon. The Hero of Ferelden is a mage of all things. Hard to believe, eh?

The new Warden-Commander saved Amaranthine from a darkspawn raid. Vigil's Keep was overrun in the process.

Then a year ago he had stopped hearing of her. She had disappeared they had said. No one knew where she was, not even the Queen, and when the Chantry had decided to send Templars after her, branding her an apostate, her phylactery had been discovered missing. The Hero of Ferelden was gone.

Cullen had been relieved at first. One less mage in Ferelden to worry about. He had hated her, hated himself for what he had let himself feel for her. He had been certain that if she had never entered his life, the torture he had endured when Uldred had gone mad would not have been as mind wrenching. Now that certainty was gone.

He sighed and left the garden and the Chantry. The village was still, only a group of children were outside, playing on the dry roads. The Chant of Light moved with the wind and the steady voice of the Revered Mother followed him as he walked.

He still remembered the visions, clear as day, as if it had only happened a moment ago. It was her face the demon had worn when it had tried to seduce him; her hands on his face, back, groin. He had wanted to believe, wanted to hope that it had been real and that the Grey Warden who had taken her away had been a nightmare. Instead he had remained strong, waiting in his cage, hoping for a rescue while listening to his brother's screams as they succumbed to their torture, one after one, until it was only him left.

Then he had seen her fight against a swarm of demons, fire dancing around her hands as she took the horrors down one after one. There were too many of them however, and he knew that it was a losing battle. He could not help her; stuck in his cage he could only watch as she died, over and over again, while dark whispers told him that he could save her. If he let them in.

By the time she and her companions had arrived it had been too late. As soon as he had seen her, he had also seen the nightmares, the demons and the blood mages behind them. How could he love her if he hated her at the same time?

Yes, he still had nightmares, but not of the demons or the blood mages. They were of her.

He reached the high cliffs and the salty smell of the water reached his nostrils. He often sat there, staring out, praying that things would go back to the way they were. Sometimes he closed his eyes and pretended that he was back at Kinloch Hold. The smell of water helped, sometimes.

He listened to the waves, the laughter coming from the children and the horns from the boats in the sea below. Then he heard a familiar sound; the sound of heavy armour hitting hard ground and the rustling it made as its wearer moved. The sound of a soldier. He opened his eyes, expecting to see a Templar who had come for him, hopefully bringing a message from the Knight-Commander, but when he turned his head he saw her.

She was clad in dark plate and the hilt of a sword peering up over her shoulder. She looked older, as if she had carried the weight of the world on her shoulders for Maker knows how long. There were tired lines around her dark green eyes, and he did not remember her looking so pale when they had been at the Tower; before the Grey Wardens. Her hair was the same though, dark and wavy and kept back with a band. Some of it fell into her eyes and she instinctively pulled it back behind a delicately pointed ear.

Like she had always done.

He stared at her in silence, realising full well that this was not her and that he was stood in front of a demon, clad in nothing but a shirt and trousers and unarmed. You idiot!

She noticed his expression and he saw a crease forming on her forehead, but she said nothing. She made no sign of attacking him either, and as he heard the heavy panting of an animal and saw a mabari appear next to her, realisation struck.

The hound watched him curiously, grunting slightly as its head tilted to the side.

"It's okay, boy," she whispered calmly before she scratched the mabari behind its ears.

He had so many questions. Where had she been? Why was she here? How had she found him?

"Why are you wearing plate?" Good job.

She chuckled and it was not until the sound reached his ears that he realised how much he had missed it.

"It's a disguise."

He could not tell if she was serious or not.

"They are looking for you, you know."

"Oh? Who?"

"They say that you are an apostate now."

She froze in her movements and he saw a sadness appear in her eyes. He wanted to shove his foot into his mouth for causing it.

"I understand if you want to bring me back to them then."

He hated himself for it, but the thought crossed his mind. He was still a Templar and everything he had learned about apostates was that they either needed to be caught and brought back to the Circle, or killed if they made any resistance. Cullen had no doubts that Greagoir would be pleased if he returned with her in chains, but then the vision of her fighting the demons and dying while he could only watch appeared in front of his eyes and he closed them to make the memory go away.

"No," he finally answered before he opened his eyes and looked at her again.

"I can give you what you always wanted, Cullen." A hand on his neck, the other sending trails of fire on his back. Her legs wrapped around him as her naked body pressed against his and her lips were everywhere.

He had dreamed of seeing her again, prayed that she was okay and that he would find her, but the nightmares swirled around his mind as soon as he looked at her. Maker, he was not ready for this and it broke him. He had to look away.

"I am not a demon, Cullen."

The moans escaping her lips made his blood boil and he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep his eyes closed. He would not give in.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his voice suddenly harsh.

She took a step towards him, removing her gauntlets as she did so, and he took a step back. His reluctance to be close to her did not stop her, and she kept on walking until his back hit rock and he had nowhere else to go.

"Come now, Cullen. We can be together, be free from the Circle and the Chantry and just be us. Do you not love me?"

"You are not her!"

"There is nothing for you here!" he shouted, and then her hands reached up to his face and he was forced to meet her gaze.

"You are here," she said quietly.

There was a moment of silence as he blinked at her, and then she smiled. She placed a hand on his chest, over his heart, and it was all clear. She had come for him. She had searched for him, and she had found him.

"I am not a demon, Cullen."

"I will not be haunted by you any longer demon. Be gone!"

He allowed himself to touch her, carefully stroking her cheek with light fingers. The familiarity of it all, of her standing in front of him smiling and alive and real made him calm.

"I still love you," he whispered.

"I know."

His mind was at peace.

She was there and the nightmares were gone.