Krem had watched the scene unravel, and he'd seen how upset the pair of them had looked about what the Inquisitor had to do. He could have sworn that every day the pair looked more drained, and with more and more rumours surrounding them both coming out, he wasn't surprised they looked that way.

He deliberated greatly in his head whether or not he should go and sit with Aphre, who looked more and more forlorn with every passing moment. He braced himself and walked over in her direction, clumsily pulling out the chair evacuated by Caedri, the sudden noise drew her attention up to Krem, who was now decidedly blushing a beautiful shade of pink.

"I… uh," Krem spluttered, "Is it alright if I sit here? It's not right for a lady to sit alone." He added, giving a false and entirely unconvincing justification.

"Of course, Krem," She replied with a polite nod, tucking her hair on both sides behind her ears. As he sat down, Krem realised that the only times they'd spoken had been in the tavern, surrounded by the other Chargers. So to be sat opposite her, in what some people would consider a date setting, made Krem sweat through his armour. "How have you been?" She asked calmly, in a way that suggested she was feigning interest.

"Good!" He started, far too enthusiastically, his voice rising to the female register he did his utmost to disguise, not that she didn't know, it was more an issue of internal conflict than one of Aphre being perturbed, nonetheless he was mortified. "Good," He continue, making a concerted effort to lower his voice, "Chief has been a bit stressed out about all the qunari agents around, being Tal-Vashoth and all." Aphre smiled at him,

"Krem, I asked how you have been, not how Bull has been."

"Right, of course," His words were bashful, he scratched the back of his head. "There's not much to tell, I'm not a very interesting person."

"Oh, that's a lie!" Aphre exclaimed, "You travel across Thedas under the command of a former Qun agent, you falsified Tevinter military documents which almost got you killed, and you say you're not interesting?" She raised an eyebrow at him, "Regardless, having tales of fancy isn't what makes someone interesting, it's how they engage with other people, the way they talk and treat strangers. So, you are far from uninteresting." She told him, causing a small smile to settle on Krem's lips.

"I've been good," He admitted to her, "Though sometimes the whole 'living as a man while not being a man' is… frustrating. Knowing you'll never quite be what you want to, honestly, it hurts."

"But Krem, you are a man. I've seen manly women and effeminate men, and it is no one's business but their own how they want to be addressed by others. You know you're a man? That's all that matters. In the same way that no one can tell someone who they should love." She said, stabbing a boiled potato that was on her plate and biting into it. Her words lightened the feeling in his chest, the smile widening, reaching his cheeks,

"Wow, thank you, I- I don't know what to say."

"There's no need to say anything, if you don't want to."

"Thank you," He said again, "Really, Aphre, thank you. Enough about me, how have you been holding up? I've, well, I've heard rumours but-" He stopped himself as he saw her expression change,

"Maybe another time? The wound, it's still a little too fresh." It was the first time she'd openly admitted that fact, whether it was the fact that Caedri had helped her open up already, or how comfortable she felt around Krem, she couldn't quite tell. Though she had a distinct feeling it was a combination of the two.


"Empress Celene, the Dalish are not at fault, here. Do you not think it unfair to blame and marginalise an entire group of people because of the actions of a minority?" Josephine asked, her words diplomatic and unassuming, as they always were.

"But who else is there to blame, Lady Montilyet? Corypheus is long dead, and the rumours of an old god being behind all of this is exactly that, rumours." Her words were sharp, Caedri cursed the stubbornness of the Orlesians, there was nothing that they would ever compromise on. Fucking Orlesian sensibilities, all the frills and ceremony you'd think they all had rods up their arses, he thought to himself. His thoughts were continually interrupted by Celene's continued, monotonous yet carefully planned attack on the Dalish. She knew that no one would argue with her on the subject, not simply because she was the Empress but the Dalish were always used as scapegoats by the humans, it was the easy way out for them, it's almost as if none of them have brains, and they certainly aren't capable of individual thought.

Caedri's internal monologue continued alongside Celene's external one, barely paying attention to her words, though he could feel his anger rising with every word of hers he caught. He failed to believe that Celene was still talking, her continued onslaught, battering his people and their culture in the most ruthlessly effective and persuasive manner. Josephine looked on helplessly as the empress continued, Caedri, however, was not one to appeal to diplomacy and etiquette, especially in a situation like this. He stood up abruptly, his chair making a cacophonous sound that echoed around the chamber as it scraped backwards on the marble floor. Shocked by the sudden discordant noise, Celene fell silent, and all eyes fell on Caedri,

"I think it's rather funny that you have the audacity to blame the Dalish, Empress Celene, don't you? We are honest people. Orlais is a morally bankrupt empire with a poisonous witch at its head, and its insidious ways mean your 'friends' and 'allies' will stab you in the back if you offered so much as a sliver of power. You claim to be a devoted follower of the Maker and Andraste, yet you are a shining example of everything she opposed, you go against everything she ever stood for. With someone as such expansive knowledge as yourself, you seem to forget that the elves fought at her side against Tevinter, they were allies, and you give us no credit despite everything we did for your people, and every way your people have stood on us. You erased us completely from your precious Chant of Light, destroyed our homeland, and now you try to blame us for something a fucking god did? The god known as the deceiver. His name is a curse amongst our people, we hold no love or reverence for him. If the Maker turned out to be nothing more than a human mage, the elves would not utter a word, your filthy pride and self-importance would silence us then, too. You think we would declare war on you? Raze your cities to the ground, murder your families because your useless god turned out to be a piece of shit? And do we conveniently forget what you have already done to us, allowing your elven lover to murder a clan, before allowing a demon to massacre the rest? Burning the slums in their entirety so you could keep your pathetic grasp on the throne? So do not dare blame us, or I will make sure the Dread Wolf takes you first."

His speech was emphatic and impassioned, and it held the concentration of everyone in the council. He didn't bother to look across at Josephine, Leliana or Cullen, he simply left, having said all that he could, and leaving the empress to stick together the pieces of her wounded pride.


"Did you see her?"

"I did,"

"And? How did she look?"

"She is hurting, but she is hiding it well. Though she cannot hide the rings around her eyes, I doubt she has slept much, lately."

"I appreciate your candour, you may now take your leave." Solas said to the messenger, and so they did. Since Aphre had been at the Winter Palace, he'd had several agents watch over her, see if she was in any danger, to see how she was faring, especially after their last conversation. He couldn't run the risk of seeking her out himself, he almost dreaded to think what seeing him again would do to her, and what she would do to him. He sighed deeply, I have done this to her, this is all on me, but what choice did I have? He told himself as the guilt wracked through him. He loved her, he did, but what choice did he have? He had to save his people, had to, even if it meant losing the one that meant the most to him. The thought tore him up inside, to lose her would-

He remembered their first kiss, the first time he laid eyes on her, he had fallen completely and hopelessly in love with a mortal, against all reason or will. With her, the world changed. A small part of him hoped that her and her brother could prove him wrong, prove that this world was worth saving, worth living for. If anyone in this world could change his mind, it would be the Lavellans.