A/N: Hello, everyone, thanks to everyone who has reviewed, liked and followed this story! Now lets get it on with Chapter 4!

Chapter 4 - Towards Val Royeux

Sister Nightingale read the latest report from Cassandra, on their latest excursions in the Hinterlands. Usually, Cassandra's reports take on a plain, dull monotone, full of short sentences, direct and to the point but no embellishment. But this report was different from the rest, Leliana was able to sense anger, frustration and doubt in the Seeker's latest report.

All these emotions were centered around one person: The Herald of Andraste.

Cassandra complained about the man's lack of interest in taking the lead when he should be, she complained about how the man just didn't care about the gravity of the situation but most of all, she complained about the wasted potential. Cassandra described his skill in battle, his fluid movements and his ability to stalk his opponents silently. Leliana lips quirked in amusement at how…. detailed Cassandra's description of the Herald was. But the Spymaster was troubled, and not just because of the reluctant Herald. Was this how the Maker intended to repay her years of faith? She had left her lover's side, she had left her dear Theron, even when it tore at her heart, to help Justinia do the Maker's work and was this how he intended to reward her? By taking Justinia and giving them this…. fool?

According to the reports, Marcus was in his mid-twenties,

'Theron was the same age when he became a Warden,'

And yet the two could not have been more different. Theron had never truly enjoyed being a Grey Warden but had accepted the responsibility with stoicism and dedicated himself to completing what seemed like an impossible task. His calm and reassuring persona was the anchor that steered the ship through the stormy waters of the Blight, those brown eyes that burnt with an intensity that set her emotions…

'Don't go there, Leliana' she told herself, sternly. 'Not now,'

Thinking of Theron brought back memories of a time when she had been happy and as the Spymaster of the Inquisition, she could not afford to feel such emotions. Leliana looked down at the report from Cassandra about the Herald. The man had not made a positive impression about the Inquisition's leaders, with his short temper and indifferent attitude. Josephine had described him as an 'interesting character', which was her way of saying that she could not stand the man and Cullen told her that he would rather gouge out his eyes than have a drink with the man. Leliana sighed and put aside the report, perhaps it was best that Marcus remained uninterested. It would be proof to the Chantry that he was not some power hungry fool. Moreover, the man did not have to lead anything, he just had to close Fade Rifts and ultimately the Breach itself, once it was done, then they will see.

"The original Inquisition was formed well before the Chantry, but after the first Blight," Mother Giselle explained to Marcus.

They were on the path to Haven and the cold wind bit at them. Mother Giselle was wrapped in a dark leather cloak, Marcus was dressed in his simple black and blue armor, he had lent his cloak to a soldier, on learning that there was a shortage in their entourage. Though the Mother had began her journey four weeks before Marcus and his group left the Hinterlands, she traveled with refugees, many of whom were ill, and frequent stops were needed. When Cassandra had received word from Leliana to return to Haven, the small group had traveled quickly, until they caught up to the group the Mother traveled with. Mother Giselle was telling Marcus about the first Inquisition, though the nobleman appreciated the background knowledge, he wasn't quite sure if she had an ulterior motive for telling him all this, did she think he was going to be involved in the Inquisition once the Breach was closed?

"The Inquisition of old were fanatics and warriors, who hunted down mages and abominations with little or no mercy,"

Marcus shrugged casually, "They did what they had to do," he said, "It was a difficult time for everyone,"

Mother Giselle looked surprised, Marcus smiled when he noticed the way she looked at him.

"Mother, you yourself said that it was after the first Blight, if my memory serves well, it was utter chaos. The original Inquisition did what they had to do,"

"It is true that one must perform one's duty, whatever it might be," Mother Giselle muttered, "But doesn't the way one does one's duty matter?"

Marcus thought about it, "I think it doesn't matter," he said, "You get the job done no matter what, take the first Inquisition, as an example, they prevented Thedas from falling apart, until Andraste began to spread the Maker's word. We call them fanatics today only because they gave us that luxury,"

"But how you do things matters as well," Mother Giselle, "Tell me would the Dalish Warden be so readily accepted as the Hero Of Ferelden if he had not found a way to save the humans from the werewolf curse and ensure peace with the Clan whose keeper placed the curse? Would he have been so readily embraced, if he had not found a way to ensure that King Alistair and Queen Anora came together in an alliance that saw Ferelden stand strong after weathering a Blight?"

"He also killed the Arl of Redcliffe's son when the boy became an abomination, even though many in his camp protested the act," Marcus said. "It would have been ugly at the time, but none of it matters now, he saved Ferelden that was all that mattered. At the end of the day, you are defined by what you accomplish, how you do it, is not important,"

"Mother Giselle,"

Both Marcus and the Mother to see Cassandra, she was dressed in her black and white armor and she held a winged templar helmet in one hand. Marcus frowned briefly at the armor.

"Haven, is not far off, Mother," she said, "We should be there at any moment,"

"Excellent, I will spread word amongst the refugees, it has been a long and difficult journey for them. They will be glad to here that we are close to our destination,"

The Mother turned to Marcus, "Thank you for your time, Herald," she said, "Your views have been most interesting,"

"Thank you for telling me about the original Inquisition, Mother," Marcus replied.

The Mother walked away trudging through the snow,

"I heard some of the things, you said to Mother Giselle," Cassandra said.

Marcus turned to her, feeling a small twinge of annoyance.

"Did you truly mean what you said?" she asked, "The part where it doesn't matter how you perform your duty, so as long as it is done?"

"Yes, why?"

"It is just that…"

"You don't agree," It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"Its just that I am certain that the Templars in Kirkwall thought the same thing,"

Marcus' anger flared at her words,

"Don't you dare compare to me those bastards!" he snapped, getting right into Cassandra's face.

To her credit, the Seeker did not back away, she did not even flinch.

"The Templars in Kirkwall were thugs and brutes, who enjoyed brutalizing mages, who would have otherwise lived quietly in the Circle!" he snapped, "Meredith didn't give a damn about doing her job, she just wanted to take over Kirkwall!"

"You do not know that!"

"Of course I do!" Marcus snapped, "I was there!"

Silence followed this declaration, Marcus glared at the Seeker, feeling anger coursing through his veins, memories of that fateful night crashed down hard on him. The smell of blood and smoke choking him, the horrifying sights of abominations, mangled bodies and tattered corpses. But what Marcus could remember most was the fear, even though the screams of war and terror sent shivers down his spine. All of it because Meredith wanted power, because Templars were so caught up in their lust for power, that in the end, it was all their saw. Marcus glared angrily at Cassandra.

"Don't ever compare me to the Templars," he snapped, "I am not one of them, and I am certainly not part of your Inquisition,"

Cassandra took a deep breath, as if trying very hard to restrain herself.

"I had no idea you feel so strongly on the matter and I apologize," she said. "All I am trying to say is I believe that our conduct speaks more than our intentions ever could,"

Marcus rolled his eyes, "Easy for you to say," he said, "You are a Seeker, you will have to practically beg people to stop helping you,"

Cassandra snorted. "In my experience, it has been the other way around,"

"Maybe its because you presume they are guilty when they are actually innocent," Marcus said, "Varric told me about how you get things done,"

Cassandra's eyes flashed in anger, Marcus took great delight in that.

"Perhaps Varric forgot to mention the part, where I had very good reason to do what I did, perhaps he also forgot to mention that I could have done much worse,"

"Why? Because you are lying, untrustworthy woman, who switches her allegiance at the drop of her dime?"

Something flashed across Cassandra's eyes and with a low growl, she raised a clenched fist, no doubt to punch him. Marcus quickly leaped into a defensive position, ready to counter any attack and dish out his own….

"My Lady?"

If the scout had known what was taking place between the Herald and the Seeker, he would have ran away. Cassandra took a deep breath and turned towards the scout.

"What is it?"

"Haven, we are almost upon the gates of Haven," he reported.

Cassandra took a deep breath, Marcus could see that she was trying very hard to restrain herself, from lashing out.

'Come on,' he thought, 'I'll show you that I am not so easy to beat when I am not tied down,'

However, Cassandra lowered her fist and turned to the scout.

"I will be there shortly," she said.

She turned back to Marcus with a spiteful glare, "Talking to you was a mistake,"

"So was taking me prisoner," he snapped.

The Seeker didn't say anything else and walked away.

"Mother Giselle's suggestion is not a terrible idea,"

"You can't be serious!"

"The Mother is not wrong the Chantry's only power is that they are united in opinion,"

"And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?"

"Lets ask him,"

A tense silence followed as all members of the Inquisition's war council turned to hear Marcus' thoughts. The Herald of Andraste groaned and began to pace the length of the room, thinking, Mother Giselle was convinced that the Chantry saw him as some ungodly usurper and she wanted him to break that opinion, the problem was what would he have to do to convince the Chantry? What would the Chantry clerics do once they got to Val Royeux? As Marcus contemplated his words, Cullen lost patience.

"Hurry up and speak already," he snapped, "The Inquisition has a lot on its plate then your petty worries,"

"My petty worries," snapped Marcus, "Should be your concern, Commander, unless you woke up this morning with the ability to close the Breach?"

Cullen scowled at Marcus and opened his mouth to say something, but Josephine quickly intervened.

"What are your thoughts on the matter, Herald?"

"I understand what Mother Giselle wants me to do, but I am more concerned about what the Chantry will do, they may see this is an opportunity to…. reassert themselves,"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Cassandra demanded.

"What the Herald is trying to say," said Josephine, "Is that the Chantry may resort to drastic measures, perhaps even violent measures in order to reassure the people that they are still very much in control… even if they are not,"

"Then I will go with him," Cassandra said.

Marcus rolled his eyes at the words, "Comforting,"

Cassandra ignored him and turned Leliana, "Mother Giselle gave us names, use them,"

"But why?" asked Leliana, "What if the Herald is right? This is nothing but a-"

"What choice do we have Leliana?" Cassandra asked, "We can't approach anyone else for help with the Breach,"

Marcus shook his head, he was certain that marching into Val Royeux was a death sentence, the Orleisan capital was literally, the center of Chantry power, the remaining clerics would be desperate to make a statement in a city that had been their home for years. Marcus Trevelyan turned to walk out the door, not caring if the Inquisition's meeting was over.

"Just one more thing, Ser Trevelyan,"

Marcus stopped, sighed deeply and turned to look at Josephine.

"Its not Ser Trevelyan," Marcus sighed, "That title is reserved for my father and brother… mostly my brother, just call me Ser Marcus,"

"Very well, Ser Marcus, there is one other matter that we need to attend to,"

Marcus nodded, wearily, now that the matter with the Chantry had been discussed, he wanted nothing more than to leave this cursed room.

"What?"

"A group of soldiers have gone missing on the Storm Coast, if you could…."

Marcus shook his head, at once, he was already dragged into something that he didn't want to be in, he wasn't going to be suckered into anymore responsibility, no matter how bad it might seem.

"Send a rescue squad," Marcus said, with a dismissive shrug. " Or just pull out of the area,"

Marcus turned around and walked away, ignoring the hostile looks he was receiving from Cassandra and Cullen.

Whenever Varric Tethras ran into one of his fans, he was always be asked one question, 'How do you do it?' Even now as he walked out of the tavern, people came up eagerly, trying to understand the storyteller. Varric always evaded the question with a snide comment or clever quip, but the truth was that he was surrounded by stories, whether it was a small story of the baker working laboriously to provide for her children, or the epic tale of Hawke's ascent in Kirkwall, Varric Tethras was surrounded by tales just waiting to be embellished upon. Varric shivered and pulled his jacket around him, studying his surroundings. Haven, itself was a story, once a secret location, where its guardians protected the Temple of Sacred Ashes, it was now the witness of Inquisition's ascent from the ashes of the Conclave's destruction… and at the center of it all, was none other than Marcus Trevelyan.

Varric had taken a liking to the young man, sure, he was a little hot headed, but nothing compared to Bartrand. Varric had spent years dealing (reluctantly) with some of the shrewd merchants in Southern Thedas and had learned to read a person's character, just by looking at them. When Varric looked at Marcus, he saw anger and a determination to rebel against everything thrown at him. But Varric had also seen something else, he had seen a light, Varric couldn't put his finger but Marcus carried the same sort of gravitas that Hawke had, the same charisma and confidence that told Varric that a Fereldan refugee could become so much more, if only given the chance. The Chantry needed to see that side of Marcus, the Inquisition needed to see the light in him, otherwise the world's only hope for closing the Breach and restoring order would be snuffed out. So Varric sought Marcus out determined to talk to him and understand what was going through his mind. Varric made his way onto the courtyard, the clash steel echoed across the sky, as recruits trained hard under the watchful eye of their superiors, Cullen was training them hard. Varric could make out Cassandra whacking away at a wooden practice doll with her great sword. With a loud cry, Cassandra swung her great sword and nearly shattered the doll to pieces. Varric winced and scurried away, she was undoubtedly thinking about Marcus as she battered that poor wooden doll.

Varric soon spotted Marcus, he too was practicing with a wooden doll, though he was practicing away from the others. Varric approached him rather cautiously, watching Marcus perform his moves. He darted around the doll and swiped viciously at what could have been the doll's legs, midsection and neck. Varric was irresistibly reminded of Isabela, possibly the only other person he met who fought with two daggers, though their styles could not have been any more different. Isabela loved taunting her opponents, she loved luring them into a duel and finishing them off with quick blows. Marcus, however, seemed more interesting in finishing off his enemies before they even saw him. Varric came closer and the dull 'thwack' of steel on wood reached his ears.

"Kid?"

Marcus stopped and turned around, he was breathing hard and there was a sheen sweat across his forehead, but his green eyes were intense as he looked at Varric.

"Varric," he sounded, a little surprised, "Nice to see you,"

"Yeah, good to see you," Varric, "Listen, I was hoping we could talk… in private,"

Marcus looked at him again, pinning him down with another stare. "Something tells me, you are not going to give me the latest chapter of Hard in High Town?"

"Its still a work in progress," Varric replied, "Its about the Conclave,"

Marcus took a deep breath and sighed in frustration, "If you are going to give me a few pointers on how to appeal to the Chantry priests than you can save it," he snapped.

"I am the last person to give you advice about talking to the Chantry," Varric replied, "Besides, I am not here to talk about the Chantry, but about other stuff,"

Marcus nodded and sheathed his daggers, "We can talk in my cabin?"

"You have a cabin?" Varric said in surprise, the rest of them were simply making due in tents.

Marcus smiled, it was a more a quirk of his upper lip. "I guess being Herald has some benefits,"

The two of them quickly made their way to the cabin, Varric noticed Cassandra glaring at the two of them, he looked away, not in the mood to irritate her, but he saw Marcus glaring right back at her.

"You don't like her much do you?"

"Darn right I don't,"

The two of them walked side by side until they made it to the cabin, where Marcus was unconscious for three days before he woke up. Marcus opened the door and ushered Varric inside.

"No one enters this place," he said, "Guess its hallowed ground,"

Varric nodded and walked inside, feeling warmth wash over him, as Marcus closed the door. "Cosy,"

Marcus didn't say anything and merely sat down on the bed, he kicked a stool in Varric's direction, the dwarf took the invitation and sat down.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

Varric knew that he had two ways to play this, he could ease into the conversation with a few snide comments and joke, or take a more direct route. He decided to go for the former.

"Boy that Cassandra? She's something, huh?"

Marcus snorted, "She's crazy, deceitful and a stuck up man-woman,"

"Uh…"

'Okay, maybe not the best way to open a talk,'

"Varric, whatever, you wanted to say, you can come out and say it," Marcus said, "I wouldn't bite you or anything,"

"Right," Varric said, now starting to feel little uncomfortable at what he was about to do, "Look, here's the thing, I don't usually give pep talks of any kind,"

Marcus nodded, "Then don't think about it as a pep talk," he said, "Just focus on what's on your mind and give it voice,"

Varric blinked in surprise, he nodded and began to focus on his thoughts, rather than the words.

"I like to believe that I am as selfish as every dwarf in the Merchant's Guild," he said, "But the truth is that I am worried that the world is destroying itself, demons, a hole in the sky? I don't know if any one hero can solve this mess,"

"Well, we don't have heroes," Marcus said, "We have the Inquisition,"

"That's the thing, Cassandra, Leliana…. They will do what they can, but-"

"I know, I know," Marcus said, rolling his eyes, "I have the Mark, I can close the Breach,"

"I am not talking about the Mark, kid!" Varric said, "I am talking about the fact that you are the only one who can convince the Chantry to see reason,"

"What makes you say that?"

"I have a feeling, about people," Varric replied, "And I think you've got what it takes to convince the people that the Inquisition is on their side,"

For a moment, Marcus only stared at Varric, the look on his face hard to discern. Just when Varric was starting to get uncomfortable again, Marcus spoke,

"You are wrong, Varric," Marcus said, "There is nothing special about me, there never was,"

"Kid, listen-"

"No, you listen!" Marcus shouted, getting to his feet. "If there was anything special about me, my life would have been very different! If there was anything special about me, I would have made different choices! And I WOULD NOT BE IN THIS FREEZING WASTELAND!"

Marcus turned around and punched the wall, behind him. Varric jumped in surprise at the loud noise. He held up his hands in a placating gesture,

'Nice going, Varric,' he thought, 'You really messed this one up,'

"Look, I didn't-"

"I know you are worried about the Breach, Varric," Marcus said, "But this… this isn't helping,"

Varric sighed, feeling disappointed, not in Marcus, but in himself. He had come here to coax the best out of the young man, all he had done was demoralize him. Not knowing what else to say, Varric got up and made his way towards the door, as he stepped out of the door and turned to close the door behind him, he could hear Marcus say, "Better choices, I should have made better choices,"

Marcus Trevelyan was excited, he could not believe that Ser Alrik, one of the most preeminent Knights in the Order was asking him to perform a special task. Here was another opportunity to prove himself worthy of the name Trevelyan, here was another opportunity to make his parents proud.

'Try not to fall behind Trevelyan," Clyde sneered, "Ser Alrik doesn't want to be kept waiting,"

"Of course!"

Clyde led Marcus into a completely different section of the Circle, the stone courtyard was no different from the one in the Templar's sleeping area, however, Marcus felt a chill crawl through his spine and he began to feel uneasy about the place he was in.

"Clyde, where are we?"

"This is where the Harrowing Chambers are held," Clyde explained,

"Am I expected to watch over an Initiate as they take their Harrowing?,"

"Not precisely,"

Clyde's tone suddenly made Marcus uneasy, but he followed his fellow student. Clyde led Marcus down a long, narrow passageway with a series of doors, many of them had runes marked on it. Marcus recognized the rune designs, these runes were meant to seal doors, making it impervious to forms of magical attack. Clyde led Marcus into another passage at the lower level, he could feel the air grow colder with each passing step.

"Clyde, where are we?"

"I trust you know about Tranquility?"

Marcus cringed but nodded, tranquility, was said to be a last resort, when a mage was deemed too weak to resist the temptations of a demon, a lyrium mark would be branded on their forehead, severing their connection to the Fade. The mark protected the former mages from possession but also robbed them of all personality.

"What of it?" Marcus asked,

"There is a special Chamber where we make mages tranquil," Clyde explained, "Right beneath the Harrowing Chamber,"

Clyde suddenly stopped and turned to face Marcus. The two students were standing outside a door,

"You are going to make a mage tranquil,"

A loud, terrified scream came from the door, and it sent chills through Marcus' body. His heart started to beat rapidly, he started to feel very uneasy. Clyde saw the look on Marcus' face and said,

"Steel your heart, mages are not people but things, as we learned in training," '

Things?'

Clyde gestured towards the door, "You first,"

Marcus took a deep breath and nodded, he grasped the door knob and opened the door.

A horrific scene greeted him, the room was small, and resembled a dungeon cell with its stone walls and floor, in the center of the room was chair, strapped to the chair, was a young female mage. Torches in the room cast a gloomy, yellow light, highlighting the women's terrified blue eyes and frantic expression, as she looked at the newcomers.

"No!" she cried, "I haven't done anything, Please!"

"You have been a very bad girl, my dear," said a male voice.

Marcus glanced at the speaker, Ser Alrik's piercing blue eyes were looking at the girl, there was a glint in those eyes that disturbed Marcus.

"Please," pleaded the mage, desperately, "Please don't do this! I haven't done anything wrong,"

"My dear," he purred, "You have done wrong by the Circle, simply by expressing distaste with the way things are,"

The mage whimpered and shook her head in denial.

"I have brought him, Ser Alrik," said Clyde.

Ser Alrik turned to the newcomers, his cold blue eyes studying Marcus.

"You must be Marcus Trevelyan," he said, "I have heard so much about you,"

Marcus didn't reply, his eyes were on the mage, who was looking at him, beseeching him silently to act on her behalf. Ser Alrik noticed the direction of his gaze and glanced back at the mage.

"I see you have noticed our guest, I trust Clyde told you what you had to do,"

Marcus' throat was stuck, and he could barely speak, he simply nodded. The mage whimpered again,

"Be quiet! said a voice.

Marcus jumped in surprise, he had noticed that there were two other templars, beside Ser Alrik in the room, flanking the helpless mage, who was strapped to the chair.

"Well, then here you go,"

To Marcus' astonishment, Ser Alrik held up the branding device, it was a long metal stick with a metal mark on the which was glowing bright blue with lyrium. As if he was in trance, Marcus grabbed the stick and began to move towards the mage. The young woman shook her head violently, Marcus looked into her blue eyes, pleading him not to do it.

"Well?,"

"Was she deemed too weak to keep her connection to the Fade?"

Marcus asked Ser Alrik. The mage shook her head, a templar raised his hand and hit the mage hard across the face. Marcus winced at the blow, his heart was beating rapidly, and he knew something was off. If he recalled his lessons, one cannot just make a mage tranquil, there was procedure to follow….

"What was the mage's crime?" he asked,

"Crime?"

"Yes, according to-"

"Her crime is that she dared question how things are run in the Circle,"

"But…"

Marcus glanced hesitantly at the mage, tears were streaming down her face.

"Is there a problem, Ser Marcus,"

Something inside Marcus snapped,

"I… can't," he said, "I just can't,"

Someone grabbed Marcus by the scruff of his neck and turned him around, it was one of the templars, who were holding down the mage.

"I knew he didn't have the strength for it!"

"Indeed," Ser Alrik said, "Perhaps a demonstration, to harden his resolve,"

The templar shoved Marcus aside and grabbed the mage by the neck to hold her steady. She was shaking frantically, pleading with the Templars who loomed over here menacingly.

"Wait, Ser Alrik there is no need!"

Marcus felt something sharp and cold press against the nape of his neck and he went very still.

"Not another word Trevelyan," whispered Clyde from behind, "Not another sound,"

Marcus was terrified, his heart was hammering in his chest, and his breathing quickened.

"I-I don't," he muttered, "What's?"

"Not a sound!"

Marcus stared in horror, as Ser Alrik loomed over the terrified young woman, who was now trying to shake off her two templar holders.

"Once you are made tranquil,"

Ser Alrik in a voice that made Marcus' skin crawl.

"You will do whatever I say,"

Without another word, Alrik thrust the brand onto the woman's forehead. Marcus stared as the emotion and terror was drained out of the women's eyes. There was a few moments of silence, the templars watched as the woman stopped fighting. Alerik withdrew the brand and Marcus saw the woman's eyes grow cloudy, her body relaxed and she stopped fighting altogether. Marcus was staring in horror,

'This isn't happening, this can't be happening!'

At length, Alrik spoke, "My dear?"

"Yes, Ser Alrik?" said the former mage, in a dead monotone, she was now a tranquil.

Everyone in the room seemed to have realized it.

One of the templars reached out and grabbed the tranquil by the chin, she did not resist as he forced her to face him.

"Sod it, I have been waiting for too long,"

Without another word, crushed his lips down on hers.

"Eric, save some for the rest of us, will you?"

Marcus shook his head, ignoring the knife inches from his neck. This could not be happening, where they going to take advantage of that girl? Was this why she was made Tranquil? Marcus turned around and ran, unable to deal with the horror, trying to leave behind the disturbing sounds that were coming from the dungeon.

Marcus trudged through the camp, soldiers and scouts nodded respectfully as he passed by, but he barely paid any attention to them. It had been four days since his return from the Hinterlands and the plan to meet the remaining Chantry clerics at Val Royeux was slowly taking effect. The Inquisition was receiving letters from various clerics saying that they were in the Orlesian capital, but they had also received word from their scouts, that the Templars were seen marching from across Southern Thedas and converging on the capital, whether it was good or bad news, no one was willing to guess. During, these four days, Marcus kept to himself most of the time, his rage had dulled and had now settled in his chest, always seething. He did not seek the company of anyone else, except for Solas, his calm attitude was a welcome change to the barely disguised awe that many people held on their faces. The elf was content to let him be and not push him to act more like a divine figure, it also helped that Marcus found his tales about the Fade fascinating, albeit a little disturbing. But Marcus also trained hard during his time in Haven, he spent most of his time in front of the practice dolls, with his daggers. Cassandra could also be seen there, whenever she was not with the War Council, Marcus doubted the women did anything else other than work.

The young Trevelyan was on his way to the Chantry, to meet Josephine, she had wanted to speak about something before he left, Marcus hoped she didn't want to talk about his family, he was certain that they would not support the Inquisition, even if he was touched by the Maker himself. Marcus was little nervous about meeting Josephine, not that he found the women intimidating, but she was friends with Sister Leliana, who was intimidating. Marcus could hardly believe that a Legend of the Fifth Blight was amongst them, he had heard many stories about the Warden and his companions from the Fereldan population in Kirkwall, and it left him in awe of the Warden and those who followed him. It must have been an incredible feat for a dalish elf to lead a king, a senior enchanter, a powerful apostate, a war golem, a Qunari and ferocious warrior from Ozammar. Marcus knew that he would never attain such heights, he was simply not important enough, it had been so since the day he was born.

'Why didn't they call the Hero Of Ferelden?' Marcus thought, thinking about the War Council, 'He would have closed the Breach by breakfast…. Yesterday,'

"Oh, Maker, hear my cry,"

Marcus paused he recognized the voice at once, he had hardly had the chance to speak to Sister Leliana, since all of this began, but he could still recognize her. It was a sweet, melodic voice, Marcus could easily picture her captivating a tavern with a song or story. Marcus turned towards the Spymaster's tent and made his way towards the entrance, Leliana was on one knee, bent over and hands clasped together in fervent prayer. If Marcus didn't know better, she sounded afraid, uncertain, which was surprising.

"Is that what you want from us blood?"

Marcus couldn't help but listen, and it suddenly occurred to him that spying on the Inquisition's spymaster was not a good idea. He started to back away from the tent when Leliana turned and looked at him.

'Oh shit, she is going to kill me,'

"I am sorry," Marcus said, "I didn't mean to pry-"

"You speak for the Maker, no?"

"Uh, sorry?"

"You speak for the Maker, what does he think about all of this?"

Marcus glanced around him, and looked at Leliana, she was looking at him, her expression was a picture of calm but there was something about her eyes, they seemed to glow with intensity.

"Honestly, I don't actually know if I speak for the Maker, or not," Marcus said, "So if you are wondering what he thinks about our entire situation… I really can't tell you,"

Leliana sighed, she walked past Marcus standing just outside the tent, looking up at Haven's chantry.

"I used to think I was destined for something, just like you were destined,"

Leliana said, more to herself than Marcus. The young nobleman kept quiet, he had no idea why Leliana was telling him all of this,

"Leaving Theron and joining Justinia was a hard choice but I had made it and for a while I thought I had found my calling, helping people,"

"And now you felt like it has been shattered,"

Leliana turned and looked at Marcus with surprise. His words encouraged her to continue.

"Jusitnia gave everything she had, even her life, and what is the Maker's answer to all of this? Nothing, what good is he, if he does not help the best of his servants!"

Marcus was a little surprised by her intensity, he had not expected such a strong display of emotion from the Sister, somehow, it made her more approachable.

"I am sorry about the Divine's loss," he said, sincerely, "I didn't know her very well, but its clear that she was important to you,"

Leliana didn't say anything and Marcus continued.

"Like you, I used to think I had a purpose," he said, "I thought that if I worked hard at it, pushed myself and perfected my craft, I would be fulfilling my purpose in life, until something happened that changed everything I knew,"

"Your time in Kirkwall's Circle?"

Marcus wasn't surprised to find out she knew something about his past, she was a Spymaster, after all.

"Something to do with that," he said, "Look, I may not have known Divine Justina well, but from what I have heard, she was one of the bravest women in Thedas, possibly the bravest of all,"

Marcus paused, Leliana did not say anything, and the noblemen continued.

"But what I do know about Divine Justinia is that she wanted peace, for all of us, she may not be here, but you can honor her memory by finishing what she started. Bring peace to Thedas with the Inquisition,"

For a long time, Leliana didn't say anything, she stood with her back to Marcus, staring up at Chantry. Just when Marcus was thinking about leaving the tent, to avoid any daggers, Leliana turned around and spoke.

"Thank you," she said, "It was most unexpected,"

"Well, I am full of surprises," Marcus said, with a grin of relief, "Just don't tell that to anyone,"

"Noted," Leliana said, making her way towards the table, "Now, if you don't mind, I have lots of work to do. Josephine said she wanted to talk to you about what's going to happen at Val Royeux,"

Marcus rolled his eyes at that,

"Great," he said, "I just have to walk up to a bunch scared-shitless clerics, and tell that I am an anomaly to everything they have been taught their entire lives. That is going to go really well,"

"You may not convince them," Leliana agreed, "But that is not our objective, now is it?"

With that Leliana bent over the table and Marcus presumed the conversation closed. However, a small part of him couldn't resist asking one more question.

"Umm, Sister if you don't mind me asking something else,"

Leliana looked up from her work, "Yes, what is it?"

"Is the Hero of Ferelden as awesome and badass as everyone says he is?"

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed!