I rarely ever write romances but I enjoy backstories, so decided to combine the two. I'm not entirely sure where this will go, but I want to explore my Inquisitor's past a little bit in order to provide credibility to some of the actions and decisions she takes and makes during the events of DA: Inquisition. The story begins several years before the Inquisition, and will eventually catch up to the familiar. And yes, as a newly-converted Cullennite, Cullen will be paired with my Inquisitor. (I find this to be very amusing, as Cullen used to be one of my least favourite characters. Halfway through DA2, however, I started to see things from his angle, and…well…yeah. I fell in love.) I want to cover how he deals with his ordeal at the Circle and Lyrium addiction too.

SPOILERS FOR INQUISITION FOLLOW:

I want to take the time to explore some minor characters as well – Stroud in particular intrigues me, and I wanted to write the story such that he and the Inquisitor have a past. I realize that Stroud is significantly older than the Inquisitor, so there will be some canon-bending involved. In my game, I selfishly sacrificed him so that Hawke could live, and came away feeling very guilty about it all. So I suppose this is my way to appeasing my conscience (that is slightly disturbingly more alarmed about in-game consequences than real life) by giving Stroud a chance to shine.

I also find myself thinking about the Chantry, the Qun and how the two mirror each other despite trying to distance themselves from one another. I try to play the non-believer as much as possible, and the reactions I get from the characters in-game are thought-provoking and occasionally disturbing.

Anywho...on with it. Reviews are, as always, ever-welcome. Also, if you'd like me to review a story you've written, go ahead and PM me. I will try to respond as soon as I can.

Prologue

The man remained eerily quiet as he trudged behind the powerful being before him. Occasionally he would glance up at his companion, study the deep scars, taut shoulder muscles and menacing battle axe slung over his back. But then his eyes lost their focus and meaning for looking, which caused him to lower his gaze. It was easier to fixate on the immediate; finding surer footing through the rocky paths they trod upon. It was easier to do anything but think.

The Qunari did not care to turn around and observe his comrade. But he was well aware of what the man had lost and of the aftermath of emotions. Such skills of emotional perception were common amongst his people, especially within the Ben-Hassrath – subtle facial expressions, changes in demeanor, deviations from the norm, these were all valuable tools with which to extract information. However, most skilled in the art were able to detach themselves from the ripple-effect of such fallibilities.

He was not.

While the mind and body were one, fighting in mental and physical synchrony against enemies of the Qun, everything reduced itself to its elemental fragments. Love, anxiety, doubt, fear – each powerful emotions in their own right – yielded to the simplicity that was survival. It brought him a brief but much-needed peace. There were quieter moments too, while he was sharpening his weapons, preparing reports for his commanders, when he would direct his mind to shine on the duty before him. But these were harder to control as there was no immediate danger to serve as a distraction. Sometimes duty would bring him his peace, and other times it wouldn't.

Today, he wasn't going to be so lucky.

"There is nothing you can do for them." he said, not turning around.

The man remained silent.

"When you become Viddathari, you will see the truth in this. Lay the past to rest. Take from it what you can learn, and use it to serve the Qun."

The man let out a barely audible sigh.

The subtle despondency did not escape his notice. He grudgingly turned around. The Qunari faced his companion but failed to meet his eyes. He stared instead at the sinking sun behind the mountains. The pain of such brightness was preferable to what he would endure should he acknowledge what gazed back at him.

"I...am grateful. But you should have let me die." said the man.

"Were you useless to the Qun, I would have. But you fight like an Atashi."

"What would that be?"

"The Dragons of old. You fought harder than a man who simply wants to survive."

"I was fighting for my family. I failed."

The Qunari's gaze finally settled on the grieving man. He studied the pitiable being before him with piercing violet eyes, at a loss for words. Another of his race would have acknowledged the futility of the situation and proceeded with duty, but a stirring within his heart held him in place. His mind searched for words from the Qun. Words to meant to instill strength and purpose. But such phrases felt hollow, and it was this dearth that kept him frozen in place. He was wise enough to recognize that the man needed kindness and comfort, but the Qun offered little in that regard.

"We should keep going. We need to place a league or two more between our pursuers." And that was all he could manage.

The clifftop overlooked the docks, and lantern lights from seaside homes, taverns, and boats illuminated the water with ever-changing reflections. Waves of melancholy music carried on the wind made its way in their direction. The man studied the procession of people and watched as they carefully laid what was obviously a corpse in a slender boat. A few men held lit torches and remained still as a lament for the dead issued forth from one of their own.

"I thought Free-Marchers don't burn their dead," remarked the Qunari as he watched the unfolding event alongside his companion.

A soft breeze stirred through the conifers and caressed their faces.

"They don't." replied the man. "This is unusual."

"Unusual – how?"

"The colour of the banner on the boat – it symbolizes nobility. Nobles can afford to bury their dead. They don't have to endure the guilt of burying their loved ones in unmarked graves. Or leaving them to be burned by those who murdered them."

The Qunari swallowed. "I am sorry that you were robbed of giving them peace."

The procession by the docks below began to move. Wielded torches were lowered to the oil-soaked hay that lay beneath the body. Someone untied the boats moorings, and three people pushed the small boat into deeper waters. Within a matter of a few minutes the flames had formed a wall of fire that obscured that which it contained within.

"What good is believing in the Maker when He refuses to listen or help?"

"The Qun can offer – "

The man shook his head in annoyance. "No. Not now. I acknowledge the Qun. But no religion, no being or deity, could comfort me now. The Tevinters took away the little happiness I have." He turned to face his comrade; eyes watering with misery and fury. "But I will take this for myself. My grief and my vengeance are my due. I will have it, and no one, not the Qun or the bastard Tevinters can rob that of me."

The Qunari paused, wanting desperately to walk away, but a compelling guilt prodded him knowingly. "I know that the Qun can't –"

"Please, Asogen. Let me mourn."

"Let me finish." he insisted. "The Qun seldom provides kindness. We have to take that from wisdom that we procure from events such as these. I...do not know any of my people who have not lost their comrades to death. We do not struggle to understand it. We accept it. Life is not about getting what you deserve. Death is an inevitability, just as a storm comes to be, or the sun rises to shine."

"That must be easy for you." said the man, who made no effort to conceal his bitterness.

"It…isn't. The words of the Qun have been etched into my memory, but they often fail to reach my..." Asogen's voice haltered.

His companions eyes looked up at him. "Your soul?" he finished for him.

"My Asala. Yes."

"Doesn't this set you apart from the rest of your kith and kin? Wouldn't they burn you alive for these ideals?"

"My thoughts have not yet evolved into ideals. And no, I would not be burned alive for them. A senseless death is for you humans to accomplish."

For the first time in a long time, the man smiled. It was a grim imitation of one, but it counted nonetheless. "I disagree. You may understand more than most. Maybe even more than you realize."

The crowd below began to scatter, slowly but surely. The man crossed his arms and nodded in the direction of the funereal gathering. "My wife once worked for them, you know. The man they mourn is a Bann. Bann Trevelyan. He was a good man."

"All men are remembered kindly after death," reflected Asogen.

"He might be one of the few exceptions. He was loyal to the people. He never extended his reach yet managed to aid those who others of his rank would be content to ignore. He was good to my wife and my children."

"How did he die?"

"I believe he was ill for a while, actually. Despite his sickness, however, he led a small company of men to secure land that was stolen by the Tevinter. I'm not sure how truthful this account is, but it doesn't seem out-of-character for him. He was struck in battle and although he made it home, he wasn't able to pull though."

"The Tevinter have much to answer for." remarked Asogen. "But...then again, so do my people."

"But aren't your actions justified by the Qun?"

Asogen let out a deep laugh. He seemed surprised by his own reaction as he shook his head. "If you train your mind to adhere to such contrived ideals, anything is justifiable. Look at your Chantry. See how they ensnare and confine with offers of aid and guilt. See how they teach you never to question. They replace free thought with a sense of familial belonging. And it is this belonging that keeps you mired in their ways. Not to mention that this is not the least of the freedoms they ask of you."

"But doesn't the Qun teach the same?"

"Oh, the Qun is no exception. What it comes down to, my friend, is which one allows you to sleep better at night. Which is the lesser of the two evils. Having that choice is a luxury, and that is why I offer it to you. There are many among my brothers and sisters who would have slain you had you refused to become Viddathari."

The man sighed and rubbed his brow wearily. "I...I see."

Asogen studied his companion for a few moments. "No you don't. You are too overwhelmed with grief to give much thought to philosophical musings. In time, the grief will lessen and you will consider well what I have said. Do not commit to the Qun unless you are absolutely sure. But let's take one step at a time. We need to rest. Your pursuers may have given up the chase, but that is not a chance I'm willing to take. We should leave for Kirkwall as soon as the sun rises."

They turned towards their Spartan campsite, made various preparations for sleep and lay down.

The world began to sleep with them. The water from the sea below crashed rhythmically against the steep cliffs. The sound was welcome and soothing. The moon shone in its full glory as bats tittered alongside crickets in the vegetation above.

A few moments later, a twig snapped in the distance, the noise reverberating against the nighttime quiet. A minute later, softer sounds issued from beyond them.

Asogen sat up quickly. He reached for his axe and brought it to his side. With his other hand he began to open up a small poultice. He dabbed its contents on a rag and rubbed the piece of cloth along the sharp contours of his weapon.

"What is it?" asked his companion.

"It could be the wildlife," he replied, attempting to sound confident.

"But it's not, is it..."

"Your wildlife is too silent."

The man pricked up his ears. The Qunari was right. The crickets chirped no more and the noisome bats seem to have ceased all activity.

Asogen spoke in a low, clear voice. "There is a large rock by the cliff's edge. Get behind it and stay hidden. Once they're distracted, head north. Should I get killed, make for Kirkwall. If you still wish to give yourself to the Qun, speak with the Arishok there."

"I won't leave you to die."

"Us both being dead gains us nothing. And where will your vengeance lie then?"

"You think these are Tevinter?" he asked as he crouched towards Asogen's position.

"Yes and no."

"What do you mean?"

"Tevinter do not move so silently. I would have sensed them sooner. Perhaps these are sellswords – warriors and rogues who've been retained by the highest bidder. Either way, they're well trained to move this quietly. And if they can do so, chances are that they are flanking us right at this very moment."

The man hesitated.

Asogen gave up all efforts at concealment as a figure broke through the foliage before them. "NOW!" he cried to his companion. He raised his axe and tensed his muscles, coiled and ready to strike.

"Ataash varin kata, Basalit-An!" he bellowed into the night, "Come meet my steel!"

At once, several fighters fell upon him. Metal met metal and cries of bravery and pain pierced the night. Asogen's companion peered around the rock. The moon snuck behind a cloud and all he could see was a great silhouette of moving forms; a dark, contorting beast of fury. His friend's imposing and recognizable form was nowhere to be seen.

Then, suddenly, as a drowning man who struggles for air breaks through the water's surface, Asogen broke free of his swarming enemies. He swung his battle axe in whirling arcs, scattering to the ground those who were unprepared for its blade.

His friend gazed, stupefied and transfixed by this display of strength. A small part of him felt compelled to help, and he even made one step in that direction, when he saw the Qunari stumble forward. One of his attackers seized the moment and brought his sword to the Qunari's helm. Asogen staggered but kept himself from falling down with his hand. But then another flung something towards the Qunari, and as the clouds parted, he could see that they were attempting to tie a rope around Asogen's neck. One the noose was in place, two people tugged hard. But he still did not fall. He jerked his head back, causing one of his attackers holding the rope to let go of their grip. The remaining group then took to assaulting his newly exposed flank with blades.

There were too many of them. Asogen would not last much longer. He should flee. But the Qunari had saved his life. His heart pounded heavily in his chest.

In the midst of his indecision, something flew through the air, missing his ear by a few inches. With a resounding thwack, one of the attackers went motionless. Another thwack and a second one fell. The man looked around in bewilderment. Where once he was panicked, he now grew confused. Was someone helping them?

"Get them, Bunty!" came a voice from a copse of trees by the cliff's edge.

A stocky, four-legged animal snarled as it roared past him, and was soon followed by a diminutive figure who cried out with almost as much furor as Asogen had minutes before. He saw now that it was a child and a young Mabari hound. A hound named Bunty. It seemed utterly ridiculous. So thoroughly unexpected that, given more time, he would have had to laugh in spite of it all.

The child was nimble and launched himself on top of one of Asogen's attackers. He took out a small blade that glinted in the moonlight before plunging it deep into the assailant's shoulder. The dog growled menacingly as it held on with a vice-like grip onto their enemy's trousered leg.

In the time that the child and his dog brought Asogen, the Qunari quickly removed the rope around his neck. He fought with renewed fervor; thrusting, hacking and parrying the assaults of the recently-demoralized group. His movements were frighteningly elegant for so large a being. He was quick too, and seemed attuned to all the swift activity around him. He even caught the boy as he fell off the back of an attacker, and propped him back up to return to the fight.

Together, the three made short work of their enemies. Asogen moved around slowly but purposefully, as he surveyed the area for any remaining danger.

"That was...unexpected." he said finally, as he walked towards the child.

The child gazed back up at him, and the man saw the Qunari abruptly come to a stop. But the gesture was so perfunctory that he couldn't be sure that it had happened at all.

"You fight well." said Asogen to the boy. "How old are you?"

"You are in my book." began the boy. "Do you use poison on your blade?"

"Your book?" asked Asogen, perplexed.

"A Compiled History of the Occupied North, if you're asking. But I suppose that's more acceptable reading and we all know how approved text suffers from a tremendous lack of detail, not to mention truth. They don't paint a pretty picture of the Qunari, I'll tell you that much. Especially with the recently-arrived Arishok in Kirkwall. Scholars are clamoring – literally falling over themselves – to write addendums to newer versions of text, and well...your image just goes downhill from there."

"Parshaara!" exclaimed Asogen. "What on earth are you on about?"

The boy bent down to scratch his panting Mabari behind the ears. "It doesn't really matter. But seeing as how I saved your life, perhaps you'd grant me some of your time? I...well, I want to know more about you. History has not allowed the Qunari to speak for themselves, and all they have extracted from your people is that you have a predisposition towards violence. It could have something to do with your religion, but that would be a very simple-minded viewpoint."

"Evangeline?" the man finally emerged from behind cover and walked slowly towards the child.

"You know this...creature?" questioned Asogen, as he gestured towards their new companion.

"I...yes. She was seven when my wife worked for the Trevelyans." And then, to Evangeline, "I thought you were Chasind! Some runaway boy who lives in the wild! But what are you doing here? Your father's dead. Were you not at his funeral?"

The girl remained silent.

"Your mother must be worried sick."

"No. They have been giving her sleeping draughts. She sleeps the pain away." she said, more quietly this time.

"What about your sisters? Surely they must be missing you by now?"

Silence.

"Fine. Whatever the reason, you have to go home now. You can't remain here. It's not safe." He tried to sound forceful, but the events of the past few days were taking its toll on him. "I'll take you back home."

"No, you won't." said Asogen. "The Tevinter were willing to pay good coin for those mercenaries. They will not give up their hunt for you now. You should leave Ostwick immediately, and don't wait for the dawn. I'll take the child home."

"They're just as likely to come after you after all the aid you've given me." he argued. "Especially this manner of aid," he remarked, waving his hand loosely at the many unconscious and dead that lay on the ground.

"That is a risk I'm willing to take."

"So we're to part ways, then? Just like that?"

Asogen looked from his companion to the girl, studying her. The child gazed with quiet but keen interest in the ongoing conversation. "Perhaps I will make my way to Kirkwall in a few months. Perhaps we will meet again there."

"I...Asogen. Thank you. For everything. I'm not one for goodbyes."

The Qunari nodded. "Nor should you be. Given the circumstances."

The pair shook hands, and parted.