A/N Guess who's back and very apologetic for the delay...

More chapters to follow...

The end is within sight...

Overhead another flash streaked the sky, followed in close succession by a profound rumbling that rippled across the heavens. The air hummed with electricity as the escalating wind clawed their cloaks from their sides, the fabrics billowing behind as the pair's pace quickened.

Then came the rain. Large, lone raindrops audibly bounced off the paving stones in all directions, pioneering for the torrential downpour that ensued.

Cullen had taken the lead, their footsteps echoing in the alleyways, as he hurried them back towards the Bazaar. Not one street, nor turn they took, appeared remotely familiar to Seren, but even she would admit that this was hardly surprising considering how little attention she'd paid the first time she'd travelled the tangle of streets. What was surprising was how far from the Bazaar she'd gone in what had seemed like no time at all.

No wonder he had trouble keeping up. Seren smiled at the thought, then silently chastised herself for being such a fool to have run at all.

He still held her hand. Every few minutes, she found herself unconsciously glancing downwards, just to check, as if she couldn't feel Cullen's palm pressed to hers, their fingers knitted, nor the gentle sweeps his thumb made across the back of her hand. Seren had no idea if he was doing that on purpose, but she certainly had no complaints; it was oddly comforting.

A final corner and the Bazaar opened out before them, bathed in the orange glow of a few dozen, intermittently hung lanterns. Regardless of the storm's rage, the inebriated racket originating from within the tavern across the marketplace oozed out onto the street from an ajar door.

The pair paused beneath a seller's canopy, damp and chilled. Lightning zigzagged the sky as Seren peered out from underneath, icy droplets striking her skin and numbing her rosy cheeks. She edged back into the gloom beneath cover, turning to Cullen.

"We'll have to run for it." A half smile slipped across her lips as she nodded at Cullen's curls, now dusted with drizzle not just pomade. "Wouldn't want to risk further damage."

Cullen's still-pale face twisted with puzzlement, followed quickly by understanding, a hand reaching to run self-consciously through his damp curls. He grinned, a new spark igniting his eyes. "How considerate Lieutenant," he said as he pulled her to him.

"I do try to be." Even Seren could hear the smile in her voice.

On tiptoes, she leaned in as Cullen kissed her, her stomach somersaulting pleasantly as his lips caressed hers. This time, the kiss was more familiar, yet still so astonishingly new. His smell, the taste of his mouth, their fresh proximity, was bewildering and absurdly exciting. But, most importantly, it felt right.

Rather than actually seeing it, she felt Cullen's lips again curve into a grin. The little alarm in her head, the one that sounded whenever Cullen was up to something, rang. Before there was chance to react, Cullen had stepped out from beneath the canopy with Seren in tow.

"Cullen!" Seren squealed, startled by the icy rain splashing down her face. Instinctively, she jolted back towards the cover as Cullen laughed, refusing to let her slip away. She squirmed, giggling hysterically as his arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her feet from the ground. Cullen spun on the spot as if she weighed nothing at all, grinning up at her with a boyish charm, his blond hair darkened with drizzle; all the pain from before, suddenly forgotten.

Studying his face, her heart swelled. She wondered what they must look like to anyone watching; then she realised she didn't much care. This was one of those remarkable moments you dreamed of, a fleeting instant of sheer bliss she'd recount for years to come.

Carefully, he set her down. Feet firmly on the ground, Seren draped her arms around his neck as she leaned into kiss him again. Cullen reached behind her, tenderly pulling her hood up. Resting his forehead against hers, eyes closed, their lips parted for him to murmur, "Let's go."

For a second, neither moved, lost in a fleeting moment in which the world and everything else in it existed merely as silenced background noise. Eventually the world slid back into focus and Seren let Cullen take her hand again, content to follow.

They darted across the square, slipping inside the tavern's ajar door. Crammed into the far corner, Seren spotted the group instantly, busily occupied in a game of cards. They were set slightly apart from the locals, those in proximity keeping a wary eye on the intimidating form of the Chargers' leader.

All of a sudden, Bull let out a bellowing victory cheer; the rest of the room fell immediately into a nervous silence. Self-consciously Dorian glanced around the subdued room, undoubtedly relieved when he spotted the Commander and his second.

"Lieutenant!" The pair's hands slipped apart instinctively at the sound of Dorian's shout. Seren smiled as Cullen's cheeks coloured, the cause of which could thankfully be mistaken for the cold. Together, yet independently, the pair edged through the crowded tavern to the group's table as conversation slowly restored itself.

"We were starting to wonder if you'd got lost." An eyebrow curved as Dorian spoke, matching the smirk that already adorned his handsome face.

"We ran into some trouble." Cullen answered simply, oblivious to the mage's prying.

"We all thought you must have been having your wicked way with our lovely Lieutenant in some dark alley." Dorian quipped, to which several poor attempts to hide smiles were forcibly made in quick succession around the table.

To Cullen's surprise, Seren's face remained neutral but his own cheeks burned, his right hand automatically reaching up to rub his neck. Seren didn't miss a beat.

"You know Dorian, I can never decide whether it's the drink or just your overactive imagination that sets your tongue waggling loose." Cullen glanced at her as she smoothly deflected the accusation, her expression composed and seemingly amused. She took a seat beside Dorian, extracting the beer from between his fingers and draining its contents.

"That, my lovely Lieutenant, was mine."

"I would never have guessed. My round next?" Casually, Seren extracted a couple of coins from her belt and tossed them to Krem, who was already halfway to the bar. Directing a small, but relieved smile at Seren, Cullen pulled up a chair across the table between Iron Bull and Sera. A hand of cards was dealt to each of them before they had any chance to protest.

"We'll be leaving soon." Dorian said, nudging his own cards back towards Bull.

"The Boss isn't back yet." Firmly pushing the cards back, the Qunari declared, "There's time."

Never needing much persuasion when it came to gambling, Dorian obediently recollected his cards. "If you insist."

"Are we going anywhere nice?" Seren asked in a falsely chipper tone, studying her own cards. It wasn't looking hopeful, but a hand was only as good as your bluff. Over the top of her cards, she glanced at Cullen. The subtle line that had appeared across his brow suggested the odds weren't in his favour either. She forced her smile away.

"We have been offered the use of the Madame de Fer's humble abode."
"Vivienne's?"

"The one and only." Dorian, Seren could see, was almost giddy with the idea of a feather bed and superior plumbing for the night. The Lieutenant, on the other hand, was less than thrilled.

"For what crime are we being punished exactly?" In the corner of her eye, she noted the slight upwards curve of Cullen's lips, lasting only for the split-second before he regained composure.

"Ambassador's request." Krem muttered by Seren's ear as he returned with the round, pushing foaming drinks towards the eagerly awaiting hands in turn. The Charger's tone seemed to suggest his equal lack of enthusiasm.

"Ah."

Midway through the game, their drinks almost empty and bluffs becoming more daring, there was movement in her peripheral. A lone figure approached their table, silent and swift, drawing the attention of few.

"Here you all are." The Inquisitor spoke, her expression neutral but face pallid.

"Inquisitor!" Dorian began, "Why don't you join-"

"Drink up, we're going." Maegan ordered impassively, before slipping swiftly across the tavern and back out the door as abruptly as she had emerged through it.

Dumbfounded, the group hesitated, eyes transfixed to the door. With the Inquisitor so uncharacteristically fragile, no one knew what to say, nor how to act around her. Seren sighed and grabbed her drink.

"I think we'd better make like a tree." Seren drained the dregs from her cup, the eyes of everyone at the table boring into her skin.

"I beg your pardon?" Dorian asked.

"And leave?" Seren smirked, gently returning her now empty cup to the table. No body laughed, but she raised a few reflex smiles from her companions. That was enough.

"Punny, Lieutenant."

"Why, thank you Dory."

Vivienne's mansion was kept in constant readiness for her eventual, potentially impromptu, return. The weather during the ride was abysmal but the staff were diligently awaiting their arrival following the message the group had sent ahead. Their wet belongings were swept away, out of sight and mind of the guests, to be washed and dried before morning.

They'd changed, slipping into something more comfortable and a little less damp, before sitting down to the delicious, and more importantly warm, meal provided. Seeing the massive frame of Iron Bull and his Chargers seated around Viv's intricately carved dining table was a tad surreal, but with the fire stocked high and the apparently infinite supply of Orlesian wine, the company slipped into easy conversation. The Inquisitor, however, had not joined them.

Dorian, who was sat back in a chair by the fire with his legs crossed and feet resting lazily on a foot stool before him, looked thoroughly relaxed and at home. Raising the crystal glassware in his hand to the glow of the crackling fire, the red liquid swirling gently, the mage addressed his companions with an inebriated edge to his words. "Absolutely marvellous, wouldn't you agree!"

No one answered, but Dorian was too wrapped up to notice. He smiled to himself instead, entirely satisfied with his surroundings as he sank further into the chair's rich fabric.

Somewhat lethargic, if not also marginally tipsy, Seren excused herself from the table. A moment later, Cullen was at her heels.

Neither spoke as they ascended the stairs towards the guests' quarters, instead sharing shy smiles and subtle grazes of one another's hand. With enough bedrooms for each of the companions to occupy privately, Seren and Cullen were in adjacent rooms along the corridor also occupied Maegan, Josephine and Dorian. Bull and the Chargers had been placed elsewhere, seemingly further from sight and mind; the qunari presence had unsettled the Madame de Fer's staff, as it did most people beyond the reach of the Qun.

Turning the corner onto their corridor, with a quick glance to check no one was around, Seren pulled Cullen to her as she backed against a tapestry covered wall.

"Hi." She whispered as his eyes traced her face, while her fingers released the fabric of his shirt and found solace twisting in his curls.

"Hi." Cullen's hands slipped around her back, encircling her waist, tightening the embrace. Their lips met and somebody screamed.

The pair separated as an audible thud followed the scream, which was itself in harmony with the scattering of glass. Seren instantly reached to retrieve the knife from her boot, catching Cullen's glance as she straightened.

"What?" Seren shrugged, "I learnt my lesson, 'kay?"

She saw the lines forming between Cullen's eyebrows, signalling how not okay he was with the motion, but decided to ignore them. He was certainly being overprotective, again, but that was hardly anything new. Although certain things were definitely new…

Okay, priorities Seren. Deal with potentially worrying situation in direction of screaming first, critically analyse budding romance later.

The scream originated from the Inquisitor's room, which equally increased the pair's concern regarding the commotion and their reluctance to find out its cause. The Commander and his second hesitated in the hallway, straining to hear into the ominously quiet room beyond the closed door in their path.

Barely moving her lips, Seren mumbled, "Are you going to knock?" A quick glance to her left at Cullen's expression, suggested otherwise. She sighed. "Fine."

Seren knocked.

"Maegan?" There was no reply. "Maegan, it's Seren. And well, Cullen actually. But he's just kind of stood here like a lemon…" Seren coughed, aware of the rambling that was making Cullen smile. "Anyway, we heard… erm…Are you alright?"

The door flung open, revealing a blotchy faced and severely incapacitated Inquisitor clutching a half empty crystal decanter, of what smelled like the finest Orlesian whiskey money could buy. Maegan swayed, clutching the doorframe for support. She spoke slowly and fairly deliberately, careful not to trip over those pesky vowels and consonants that were panicking under the pressure.

"I'm absolutely fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Maegan slipped back into the dense atmosphere of her room, her guests already forgotten. With the door remaining open, the air from within made a bid for freedom, crawling lethargically on its metaphorical hands and knees, ready to intoxicate any unsuspecting bystander in its path.

This could be a long night.

Seren snuck a glance at Cullen, who looked like he'd just caught the chantry mother in a compromising position with the village baker; the mix of helplessness, shock and pure horror was, to Seren, sheer entertainment and potential ammunition for later teasing.

"Never witnessed the fallout of a break-up then?"

"Not in so many words."

Seren simply nodded, wondering if her eyes would adjust to the gloom before her. It didn't seem hopeful.

"Don't wait up." She pressed her boot knife into his palm and smiled sadly.

"Don't you want me to…" He made a vague gesture that Seren took as his offering of assistance.

"Sure." She shrugged. "If you want to discuss the finite details of the Inquisitor's and Blackwall's relationship until your eyes are the colour of the wine you're drinking, be my guest? Or drink until you can't feel your face or see the floor anymore… or when the wall becomes a wonderful-"

"I can take a hint." Cullen interjected with the raise of an eyebrow.

"Really? I didn't think you'd mastered that skill yet."

"You are an excellent tutor. Goodnight Seren." Cullen leant down and kissed her softly on the forehead.

"Nice try." Seren grabbed his collar, dragging him close for a true kiss. "You don't get off that easy sailor," She whispered as they parted.

"Goodnight Seren."

"Night." She watched him up the hallway, took a deep breath and stepped into oblivion, willingly accepting the consequences of doing so.

"Just curious: was the argument with the wine or the wall?" The source of the crash, which Seren and Cullen had heard from the hallway, was once a decanter angrily thrown from halfway across the room. Now shattered into a million tiny shards on the floor, its content was soaking into the expensive looking wallpaper without remorse.

"Both." Maegan was sat cross-legged on the floor by the fire, surrounded by a sea of cushions and throws from the bed.

"Fair enough. Can I join you?" Maegan vaguely nodded and Seren took a seat opposite before continuing. "The wallpaper is a tad garish, though my grandmother would probably love it. And the wine, well it is Orlesian, say no more."

"Seren-"

"What are we drinking?" Seren interrupted, holding out her hand, waiting patiently as the Inquisitor considered relinquishing the bottle cradled in her arms. Finally, Maegan gave in. "Pass us a glass?"

"Seren, you don't-"

"It's no good, drinking on your own. People start to get worried. They decide to form interventions and then, there's a lot of group meetings…"

"Okay, okay." Maegan passed a glass, with what may have been a smile if you tossed your head to one side and squinted.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Okay." Seren swirled the brown liquid around her glass as she thought. "Never have I ever fancied a Qunari." Seren took a sip.

"What?"

"Never have I ever fancied a Qunari." Maegan looked blank. "Okay, please tell me you have played 'Never Have I Ever'?"

"I don't think so…"

"You're kidding. What do you nobles play at parties?"

"We don't play anything. We small talk and eat canapes."

"Wild." Seren took another mouthful.

"Indeed." Maegan frowned, though her eyebrows seemed to be having difficulties with the concept. "How do you play?"

"So, you say something you've never done and if the other person has done it, then they have to drink." Seren settled into her chair.

"But you drank?"

"Well technically you can say anything, whether you've done it or not."
"So you fancied a Qunari?"

"Are you telling me there wasn't one fleeting moment when Bull swung his battle-axe, with those rather bulging biceps, and your heart didn't flutter? Even a little?" Even in the gloom, Seren could see the colour in Maegan's cheeks. She smirked, curving an eyebrow. "Drink up."

Obediently the Inquisitor drank.

"Your turn."
"You must think I'm pathetic."

Seren was lost for a slit second before she realised the shift in conversation. Here we go.

"Hardly. But if you feel like explaining the complaint with the wall further, I'm all ears." For a moment, she didn't think Maegan was going to open up, but the Inquisitor seemed full of surprises. Maegan downed her drink, swiped her lips with the back of her palm and turned to Seren. Her focus was still off but the determination was evident.

"My parents. They'll never accept Rainer."

"You don't know that. Have you even told them about him?"

Maegan laughed bitterly. "No. With everything else, it's never come up."

Seren nodded and neither said anything for a moment, both lost in the depths of their glasses.

Maegan sighed and her shoulders sagged when she finally spoke. "It would have been bad enough, him being a grey warden. Not exactly the match my mother had planned. But a fraud, a…a murderer…"

Seren instinctively reached and grabbed Maegan's hand, ignoring how the Inquisitor jumped a little at the gesture.

"Don't," Seren said firmly, staring Maegan straight in the eye. "That's not the man you know. Everything will work out. You're not alone. At the end of the day, your family love you and they must be so proud, if not slightly terrified, of what you are doing. You've got an awful weight on your shoulders but that doesn't mean you shouldn't live a little."

Maegan laughed a little. "How much are you charging per hour?"

"What?"

"For these therapy sessions," Maegan smiled and the mood was instantly changed. "I feel I better ask now before we go any deeper."

Seren laughed. "I'll give you mates' rates, don't worry. These last few weeks, have been a touch intense after all."

"Very generous Lieutenant." The two women smiled at one another. With the Inquisitor's mood seemingly improved, and with some borrowed confidence, Seren tried again.

"So Inquisitor," Seren said brightly. "What have you never ever?"

Dawn. The great companion of the early riser, a glorious time filled with hope, birdsong and the reappearance of the sun in a clichéd spectacle. Also the mortal enemy of those who defiantly deny the world's existence before midday and of course, the hungover. Seren was certainly one of the latter, as was the Inquisitor.

The night had slyly slipped into the early hours, fuelled by alcohol and a conversation that had dissolved into philosophy as many intoxicated conversations seem to do. Having covered the frivolity of social class, the uncertainty of religion and finally the nature of the inquisition, Seren had had to call it quits. As much as she enjoyed a drunken debate, the first signs of morning had begun sneaking around the curtains, determined on exploring the room they were being shut off from; the day was fast approaching and so was the beginning of a headache.

Maegan drifted as soon as the talking ended. Seren had sensed she'd been hanging on for quite some time, her arguments being all that were keeping her from the grips of sleep. Seren, on the other hand, had become accustomed to long nights without the comfort of sleep.

As quietly as she could, the Lieutenant left the room, trying not to stumble in the gloom over the pillows strewn across the floor. Once out in the hallway, the door softly closed behind her, Seren sighed and glanced along the dimly lit hallway.

From what she could tell, everyone had long since gone to bed. She had no doubt there would be servants milling around somewhere in the vast estate, but the house was otherwise hushed and still.

Seren glanced at Cullen's door, hesitated then heading back along the corridor towards her own room. However, the door came and went. Seren carried on, knowing sleep would be impossible. There was an hour at best before the rest of the party would be rising to face the day ahead. By the time she got in bed and convinced her brain to switch off, it would be time to get up again.

The Lieutenant wandered along the halls in what she hoped was the direction of the staircase, her sense of direction admittedly skewed by the alcohol numbing her system.

Left here, right? Dead-end. Right it is then.

This seems right.

Any second… there should be stairs… any second now…Seren drifted down the corridor with balance as an afterthought, the world wandering a little with a will of its own.

Okay wall, you're meant to be over there, back to your post. Seren giggled and bounced back into the middle of the hallway. This is ridiculous. I swear I didn't drink that much…

Then there was a voice, a very muffled voice, but nonetheless, something to aim for. As she grew closer, Seren realised she recognised it. Dorian.

The mage was staring absently out of a great window, nursing a partial glass of wine and talking to him himself. Still wearing the clothes from the night before, it seemed he hadn't made it to bed either.

Looks like the Inquisitor and I won't be the only ones a little worse for wear…

Without spotting her, Dorian sighed and lifted his glass to his mouthful, draining the rest of its contents. He placed the empty glass on a nearby sideboard, completely unaware of her presence.

Watching him in that moment Dorian seemed smaller than his normal self somehow, less impressive in a way that Seren couldn't quite put her finger on. He appeared a shadow of himself; a mere man without the mask he'd carefully crafted to hide his vulnerabilities. And suddenly Seren was no longer sure he'd appreciate company. Sometimes people just want to be alone.

"I don't suppose I'll ever return to a home like this." He muttered.

"Why not?" The words were out before her mind had opportunity to restrain them.

"Hm?" Dorian turned, surprised there was another soul awake at this hour but when he realised it was Seren, he relaxed. "Lieutenant, I hadn't heard you."

"Sorry to interrupt." She moved to his side, glancing out at the early morning sky that was brightening rapidly by the second. In truth, Dorian didn't seem to mind her being there. Or at least he wasn't making a show if he did.

"Couldn't sleep either?"

"Not exactly." Seren paused, wondering if it was wise to press Dorian. He'd never opened up before, not really, but other than Cullen and Maegan, he was the closest friend she had. At the least, it was worth a go. "Why can't you go home?"

"Ah, a… long story." He shook his head. "Not something to worry your pretty head about so early in the morning."

"Dorian, come on. You can talk to me."

Dorian took her hands in his and smiled sadly. "My lovely Lieutenant, I appreciate that. But I think you are dealing with enough demons for now, plenty of which are already not your own."

"Fine, but one day you're going to tell me everything." Seren made a face and said, "Or else."

Dorian laughed, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "One day Lieutenant, I swear."

P.S.

Some of you may have recognised the joke from the tavern. In case you didn't, it's actually from Back to the Future which is one of my all time favourite films. I wrote that scene on the 21st of October 2015 and so, at the time, it seemed fitting to include the joke in this chapter. And then, I couldn't bring myself to remove it...

I hope you enjoyed one of the worst jokes in history. I can only offer a 'sincere' apology (cough cough, you secretly loved it).

Until next time...