Alain just wanted to help people for once. He wasn't very good at fighting and it felt like he had spent the last three years just trying to stay far away from Templars and anyone else, really. So many people hated mages now he didn't think he would ever find a place he was welcome. Then he had heard about the Herald of Andraste and the great things he had done in his effort to close the rift. When the Inquisition sided with the mages he felt hope for the first time in a long time. They were doing so much good, perhaps there was something there he could do to help make the world a better place, help shape a world where mages didn't have to fear… going through what he had gone through.

So he struck out on the journey to Skyhold. He ended up encountering a group also on their way to join the Inquisition. Some of them were mages, but some of them were not and for a little while he could sit with them and listen to them talk and pretend he belonged.

The trip through the mountains was long and his threadbare cloak did little to shield him from the cold but it was worth it when they finally arrived. The sight took his breath away. Skyhold was beautiful. It was a fortress, but it was old and the stones were jagged and rough unlike the clean even rigidness of the Gallows. Yes, this place had been built to withstand war, but it was so old now it looked more like a makeshift home for the lost. He crossed the threshold full of nerves, wondering if they would be turned away after all. To his surprise his little group was welcomed. Some of them even had family and friends already there. Alain looked around rather overwhelmed by the bustle of crowds around him but froze as he saw the men in armor.

Templars.

Then he saw him. He wasn't wearing the Templar armor, but there could be no mistake. Knight-Captain Cullen. Alain's blood froze as the icy terror choked the breath from his lungs. He stumbled back and felt the cold press of stones at his back and suddenly he was back there, with the threats and the hands and there was never anywhere he could run. His legs gave out and he slid down the wall, burying his face in his hands. His stomach turned and he thought he would be sick if he had eaten anything and his breath was coming in sobbing gasps.

Some of the people who had been traveling with him tried to speak to him as people pressing in around him. He tried to pull away, to burrow into himself and the wall behind him as he had tried to do so many times before. A different voice rose up and silenced the others and people were backing away but it didn't matter. He knew he shouldn't have come. He didn't belong. He should have died long ago, and now he would be trapped again and he couldn't, he just couldn't he'd rather be dead why hadn't he died.

"Take deep breaths," someone was saying and he realized that most of the people in the area had moved on. They were alone. The man was large and intimidating, but he was talking softly and his eyes were kind and full of concern. He wasn't a Templar. He was breathing with Alain, trying to guide him. "What's your name?" the man was saying now.

"Alain," he said automatically and regretted it. The Templars probably knew his name. He was a known blood mage after all, even if he hadn't become one willingly.

The man continued to ask him questions, slowly talking him down. He still felt sick to his stomach with dread, but at least he didn't feel like it would smother him any longer.

"It's ok," the man was saying now. "You're safe here."

Alain would have laughed had he been able. "Templars," he managed.

"Oh," he said. "Let's get you out of here. Can you stand?"

His legs felt weak, but he managed to scramble to his feet. The man looked as if he wanted to reach out and help him, touch him, but thankfully didn't. He glanced around and waved to someone.

"Vivienne!" he called.

A severe and absolutely terrifying woman approached. She must have been a mage, but Alain had never seen one walk with such confidence, at least not since Hawke. The man whispered to her for a moment before turning back to him.

"This is Madame Vivienne," he explained. "She will take you to my quarters. I will be there shortly."

And Alain's heart sank. Of course. Even here, even this man who had seemed so kind. But he followed the woman anyway, automatically. Where else was he supposed to go? He didn't care anymore. He just wanted it all to end. He didn't look up until they entered the keep, away from all of the noise and the cold. There, by the fire, he saw Varric. Relief washed over him at the familiar face, but it quickly turned sour. After the hand Alain had in hurting Hawke, Varric's friend, he doubted the dwarf would want anything to do with him. He wanted to run, hide; he couldn't face him, but there was nowhere to go as usual and Varric was already looking up in his direction.

To his utter surprise Varric actually smiled at him. Vivienne didn't seem like the kind of person you stopped so he hurried after her after giving Varric a confused look. He tried to smile, he really did. Varric followed after them to his relief. They entered a door on the left and went up a stairway into a huge room with a desk, bed, and two balconies. He stood there gaping as Vivienne gestured for him to sit on a couch by the stairs. Just what had he gotten himself into?

"Who…?" Alain tried to say as he sank onto the couch.

"The man you met outside was the Inquisitor, Elden Trevelyan," Vivienne said. Alain was horrified. "Wait here, darling," she continued, then added sympathetically, "You'll be safe here," before sweeping out of the room.

Varric walked up the stairs after she had left. Alain was looking at him desperately, pleadingly, but Varric just smiled gently.

"Glad you made it out alive," he said.

Before Alain could reply the Inquisitor himself entered. He smiled warmly at both of them and crossed the room where he sat on the edge of his desk.

"You really do pick up all kinds," Varric said. "Even an old friend of mine."

"You two know each other?" The Inquisitor asked.

"Yeah, we met in Kirkwall."

"Oh," the Inquisitor said gravely. "I guess that explains it. This isn't a prison. You are free to come and go as you please. There are Templars here, but they won't harm you. I will not tolerate any abuse of power or infighting. If you ever feel threatened you can come to me or one of my advisers. I will be leading a small contingency to the Hinterlands tomorrow. Why don't you stay the night and if you still want to leave in the morning I can escort you anywhere along that rout if you would like."

Alain nodded, not sure what else to do. He stared as his boots, watching the drying mud.

"Unfortunately, I really need to get back out there," The Inquisitor said. "Varric, would you mind showing him around? I think there are still unclaimed rooms above the garden."

After the Inquisitor left, he followed Varric out in a daze barely listening to anything he was saying. He kept waiting for everything to go wrong. Varric was kind enough to avoid Templars and large crowds and eventually stopped in front of a door.

"This one's empty," he said. "Make yourself at home. I've got some paperwork to take care of but I'll come get you when it is time for dinner."

Alain nodded and went inside. The room was absolutely huge. It was almost three times larger than the room he had in the Kirkwall Circle. His door also locked from the inside. He pushed the small dresser in front of it as well just in case, and then sat on the floor in the far corner, hugging his knees tightly. Now that Varric was out of the way, would it happen? Would anyone come pay him a visit? But nothing happened. No one came.

Finally he couldn't take it any longer. He had to test it, see if he really was free. He remembered Varric taking him through a library. That seemed like a nice place. Steeling himself, he put the dresser back and unlocked the door. There was no one waiting for him so he headed off.