A/N: Hi folks! I am going to respond to some of the things that the anonymous NotAnonymous touched upon in their review. (And thanks for those reviews by the way, they are much appreciated!)

As you can already imagine, Varric and Cassandra will have a different kind of relationship in this story than we saw in the game. I absolutely enjoyed their bickering in the game, but due to the way the events have unfolded here, they have no reason for rivalry because Cassandra never took Varric prisoner and didn't drag him to Orlais in chains. So yes, in a way I will miss their bickering, but on the other hand, it's an opportunity to explore something new and different. Hopefully it will work out well.

Re: the pairings. There are only four characters I can include in the story summary, and as you can see, there's not even room for the Inquisitor! The Bethany/Josephine pairing means that yes, at some point things will probably happen between them, but it doesn't mean that Merrill is out of the picture. If anything, I should say that this would be a Bethany/Merrill/Josephine love triangle. I don't even know how that's going to end, to be honest. Sometimes it is only during writing that I sense some characters having better chemistry than the others. Maybe nobody has to be the odd one out! Stranger things have happened.

Briala and Celene both want the eluvian network for one thing – to be able to move their forces around faster. For example, if Celene had this knowledge, she could probably use it to crush Gaspard quite quickly.

And now onto the next chapter… here comes the Inquisitor!


Chapter 7

Village of Haven

Alistair climbed off from the back of his horse just short of entering the village of Haven, standing at the side of the narrow mountain road, taking in the sights that he had not witnessed in a decade. Certainly, a lot had changed about Haven since they had discovered the forgotten village ten years ago. Several new buildings had been erected, and the beaten path leading to the village certainly hadn't been this well traveled on their previous visit. Still, he could recognize familiar sights, such as the old chantry, still standing as impressive as ever, Alistair recalling how he and Maythre's group had freed the imprisoned Brother Genitivi from the chantry's dungeons all those many years ago.

During his exile from Ferelden and those several years he had spent wandering the Free Marches, wondering just what to do with his life and often deciding that drinking himself into stupor was the best course of action, Alistair had not truly kept up with the politics of Ferelden or Thedas on the whole. Only after he had come back to his senses, traveled to Weisshaupt and had then been assigned to report to the Warden-Commander in Orlais, Alistair finally began to feel that his life could still serve some kind of greater purpose, and he had also become more interested in the politics of Thedas. The year had been 9:36 Dragon, exactly one year after the Divine Justinia V had made her pilgrimage to the Temple of Sacred Ashes and decided to fund the restoration of the village of Haven and the nearby temple.

At the time, Alistair had thought it to be a very daring venture. Queen Maythre considered Haven to be a part of the Fereldan lands, even if she was quite content for the land to lay forgotten, caring little for something of significance to the Andrastian faith. The Orlesians clearly disagreed, a noble family in Halamshiral even coming up with ancient treaties supposedly granting the land surrounding Haven to them, urging Empress Celene to persuade Maythre into acknowledging their claims. Celene and Maythre had exchanged several official letters to that regard, not coming to any consensus, and then the civil war had broken out in Orlais, diverting Celene's attention from something as trivial as defending the interests of ailing Orlesian nobility. Meanwhile, Haven was being rebuilt and pilgrims were flocking in from every corner of Thedas, the Divine confident that Queen Maythre would not dare to move against the Chantry and face the outrage from the rest of Thedas... something that, truth be told, hadn't stopped her before.

Alistair's eyes turned to the little footpath leading out from the village and further up the mountain, towards the temple, across the Penitent's Crossing, the massive bridge that like the temple itself had endured the passage of time with remarkable perseverance. The Temple of Sacred Ashes could not be seen from the village, indeed, one needed to make nearly halfway up the mountain path leading out of Haven to be able to spot the temple, its cleverly chosen location keeping it hidden for nine hundred years, something that still struck Alistair as unthinkable. Certainly, this place did not appear on most maps before he and Maythre's group had rediscovered it, but even so, lost travelers surely ended up stumbling this way every year. It all made the Grey Warden wonder just how many innocent victims the mad Disciples of Andraste had slaughtered over the years in order to preserve their secret.

I wonder what other secrets the ancient temple was hiding, Alistair thought, taking the reins of his horse and beginning to walk towards the village on foot, needing to stretch his legs following the lengthy ride. We were feeling a little too rushed to do proper exploration. Angry cultists wanting to kill you will do that. And drakes, must not forget them. Of course, there was the urn, and I don't think Maythre ever really planned to return it, even after she had cured Eamon with the ashes. Of course, now the Chantry faithful have cleaned up the place and picked it clean from all the artifacts left behind by the Disciples. I wonder what sort of secrets they found… it's strange that nothing has been shared about any discoveries made here. There had to be something, if this Havard who carried Andraste's ashes back to Ferelden truly had been one of her disciples. Sure, they were all as mad as nugs in mating season by the time we found them, but when they first came here, they were probably all devout worshippers. Maybe something was left behind from those early days... something besides the urn...

"Running a little late, are you?" Alistair suddenly found himself addressed by a melodic female voice, the Warden shaking his head to clear his thoughts. The woman facing him was exceptionally beautiful, with wide, expressive brown eyes, full lips forming a pleasant smile and long dark brown hair falling loosely down her shoulders. She was wearing simple Chantry robes of a lay sister, but they clung to her body tantalizingly in all the right places, Alistair having to summon all of his willpower in order to stop staring. "The stables are getting quite full, but we should be able to find space for one more," the woman continued. "I'm sure you are aware that horses can't manage the path to the temple."

"Umm... yes, of course," Alistair replied, allowing a young stable boy to run up and take the reins of his horse from him. "What do you mean, running a little late, though? Has the Conclave begun already?" On his way here, Alistair had met plenty of people heading to Haven, both mages and templars, and some of them had explained to him what they had heard about this Conclave. While Alistair was glad to hear encouraging developments regarding the mage-templar conflict, this still did not answer his question why Clarel had arranged for such heavy Gray Warden presence at Haven. As important as Alistair found the events shaping the world of Thedas, this really was not a Gray Warden concern, so Warden-Commander's actions seemed very curious and merited an investigation.

"No, no, not yet," the woman smiled back at him. "I simply meant that all the Wardens had already arrived, and we were not expecting anyone else. I am guessing that you will want to join your fellows," she added, pointing in the direction of the mountain path, leading to the temple.

"Yes... eventually," Alistair replied, unwilling to give away too much. "I would not mind resting a little before making my way up to the temple," he said, hoping to learn more. "It was quite the grueling trip from Val Royeaux."

"I understand completely," the Chantry sister nodded. "There is a tavern catering to the needs of the pilgrims. You can catch your breath there."

"A tavern, well, that's an improvement from my previous visit," Alistair chuckled to himself. And it is also a good place to overhear some rumors. I'd like to find out more about what the Wardens are supposed to be doing here before I head up to the temple.

"You've been here before?" the woman gave him a curious look. "As a pilgrim?"

"No… not quite," Alistair shook his head. "That was... before Justinia's pilgrimage, actually. I could tell you more, if you'd care to join me at the tavern," he added, hoping to learn more from the attractive and accommodating Chantry sister.

"An intriguing offer, alas, my work here is not done," she gave him a slightly regretful smile. "Perhaps later, should you still be in the village? I'm Sister Bethany, by the way," she added, extending her arm for a warm handshake.

"Grey Warden Alistair," he smiled in reply. "And what work are you carrying out exactly, Sister Bethany?"

"Oh, just meeting and greeting everyone coming in for the Conclave," Bethany replied. "And, well... making sure that nobody who's not supposed to be here makes their way up the path to the temple. I'm sure we all wish for peace between mages and the templars and would not want to see something done to sabotage the Conclave, yes?"

"Of course," Alistair nodded. So she's more than just a wide-eyed, welcoming Chantry Sister. Interesting... "I hope to see you later in the tavern, Sister Bethany," he added with a smile, turning to walk away.


Bethany gave a small nod of her head accompanied with a gesture of thumbs up as a small delegation from Starkhaven, consisting of templars and Chantry sisters, passed by, the youngest of the Hawke sisters satisfied with the answers she had received from the latest arrivals. The agent stationed on the roof of one of the buildings caught her signal and went on to alert the gate guards at the mountain path, telling them to let the Starkhaven delegates pass. Of course, there was no such thing as an official guest list for the Conclave, everyone with a stake in the matter or anyone who was in some way affiliated with either of the warring sides, had been invited by the Divine herself to participate. It didn't make Bethany's job any easier, but she was fully determined to make sure nothing like the disaster with Anders repeated itself.

"Everything clear?" she turned around to face Varric approaching her. Even in the cold, crisp mountain air, Varric was keeping his leather jacket unbuttoned to showcase his ever-impressive chest hair, Bethany feeling a little envious at the apparent dwarven tolerance of cold.

"Seems so," Bethany nodded in reply. Working together with Varric to expand the spy network, just in case the Divine's plan for the Inquisition would have to be put into action, was working out great so far. Incorporating some of the people in the Divine's service into Varric's existing network had created some slight tensions on both sides, but everyone had accustomed to the new situation quickly enough. "What is the Warden doing?" she asked, nodding in the direction of the tavern.

"Just sitting there and relaxing, enjoying his drink and trying to overhear some rumors," Varric replied with a shrug. "Seems like a decent bloke to me."

"So did Anders," Bethany muttered darkly, feeling frustrated. According to the information she had been given, all the Wardens that were supposed to be here, had already arrived several days ago, grim faced and refusing to answer any of her questions, passing through the village and heading straight up to the temple to assume their duties of guarding Divine Justinia V. This Alistair was far more amiable than the other Wardens, but... perhaps that in itself was more suspicious, especially considering that he wasn't supposed to be here. "I won't let anything to happen to the Conclave, Varric. This temple is precious to our faith... the Divine says it is the soul of the Chantry, and I am starting to see why. I won't let anyone repeat what Anders did in Kirkwall."

"I wish you'd stop blaming yourself for that, Sunshine," Varric shook his head sadly. "But we'll keep watching the Warden, make sure he doesn't do something unwise."

"Good, I'll speak with him once I'm done here," Bethany replied. "If he has any dark intentions, I'm sure I can get him to slip up. I have my ways to loosen tongues…" she added with a wink directed at Varric.

"It's still hard to believe how much you have changed, Sunshine," Varric frowned a little. "Where did that innocent, naive girl I knew has gone? I wonder what your sister would say if she saw you now…"

"I pray that I will get to hear it from her," Bethany said hopefully. "But Varric, how could I not change, though… how could I go through something like that unaffected? You know that the events of Kirkwall changed Riona, too."

"They most certainly did," Varric admitted sadly. "Anyway... can't be that many arrivals left, surely? I heard that the Divine plans to open the talks tomorrow morning."

"Yes... I received the news about the final big delegation from Antiva City on the road, they should arrive any moment now," Bethany replied. "And I don't actually need to interrogate them, they can be allowed to pass freely."

"How come?" Varric asked, before snapping his fingers in realization. "Antiva, of course... that diplomat friend of yours already checked them for you?"

"More than that, she's actually traveling with them," Bethany smiled, looking past the village gates, hoping to see the Antivan delegation appearing on the road to Haven.

"Surely she didn't have to do that," Varric gave her a questioning stare.

"I, uh, might have fed her some intriguing stories about the temple and… well, convinced her that it would provide for an interesting adventure," Bethany admitted with a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "Besides, she really does need to get out of Val Royeaux now and then. I can't imagine spending time amongst all those Orlesian nobles being good for anyone's health."

"You're probably right about that," Varric chuckled. "Still... a little unusual to see you so concerned for her health..."

"Ah, and there they come," Bethany spoke quickly, relieved to see the procession of riders and their horses approaching the village, meaning that Varric was denied the opportunity to embarrass her further... at least for now.

The Antivan delegation was certainly one of the largest that had come through during the past few days, consisting of over twenty people. Templars rode at the front, followed by the Chantry priesthood, mages bringing up the rear, Bethany immediately spotting Josephine, graceful on her white horse amidst the Chantry priests. Bethany bowed before the Antivan delegation, gesticulating for them to pass, delighted to see Josephine breaking from the crowd and bringing her horse over to where she and Varric stood, the ambassador nimbly sliding out of the saddle, smiling broadly as she came to greet Bethany.

"I was beginning to worry you'll never get here!" Bethany exclaimed, having exchanged a friendly hug with the Antivan ambassador. "All that arguing between mages and templars slowing you down?"

"You would not believe how frustrating those people can be!" Josephine laughed, having made sure that the rest of the Antivan delegation was out of the earshot. "Shouldn't you introduce me to your friend, though?" she asked, giving Varric a curious glance.

"Oh yes, where are my manners," Bethany grinned, bowing faux-apologetically before Varric. "Master Varric Tethras, representative of the Dwarven Merchants' Guild, successful businessman and a renowned author."

"The Varric Tethras?" Josephine gasped. "Of the 'Hard in Hightown' fame?"

"The very same," Varric chuckled. "Pleased to have your acquaintance, Lady Ruffles."

"Umm, it's actually Lady Josephine Montilyet," the Antivan ambassador corrected the dwarf.

"That's not going to stop him once he's decided on a nickname for you," Bethany laughed.

"No, it really won't," Varric gladly agreed.

"Oh... hmm, Ruffles... I suppose I can live with that!" Josephine grinned. "Especially coming from someone like Master Tethras himself."

"He calls me Sunshine," Bethany remarked.

"I love it," Josie smiled at the youngest of the Hawke sisters. "It's so very fitting."

"You two should really get a room," Varric chuckled. "And by that I meant that you should go sit down in the tavern and talk over a glass of wine, of course. Yes, that's what I meant," he added, seeing the scandalized expression on the faces of the two women.

"I do think that is an excellent suggestion," Josephine nodded. "The Antivan delegation wants to head to the temple straight away, but I was thinking... you're going to join the Divine soon, yes? Perhaps... we could go up to the temple together?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Bethany agreed. "I was planning to depart for the temple tomorrow morning. We should be able to find you a free room to sleep over tonight," she added, deciding to ignore Varric's meaningful wink, briefly touching Josie's elbow to guide her towards the tavern, the two of them departing and leaving Varric behind to keep a look out for any stragglers left behind on the road, unlikely as that was.

The Singing Maiden tavern was small by anyone's standards, less than dozen patrons currently present, allowing Bethany and Josephine to find a quieter corner where they could speak without any interruptions. Most of those arriving to the Conclave would head directly for the temple itself, stopping only for a brief rest at the Singing Maiden. Some of the delegations left several of their representatives behind for one reason or the other, and together with the Grey Warden Alistair they made up the current roster of patrons present, Alistair sitting a few tables away from Bethany and Josephine, idly sipping his ale and managing to look convincingly uninterested in the conversations of the others.

"So, have you seen the temple already?" Josephine asked excitedly once they had sat down, Bethany replying with a quick nod. "It must be marvelous from how everyone is talking about it. I can't wait to go up there and see it for myself!"

"It is very impressive... and there is this air of mystery surrounding it... though I'm not sure the Divine would appreciate me saying that," Bethany winked at her new friend.

"How do you mean that?" Josephine asked, looking curious.

"Well, you know the history behind the temple, right?" Bethany said, Josie replying with a quick nod. "I mean, these Disciples of Andraste... talk about a creepy cult! How do you go from building a shrine to preserve the ashes of our Prophet to human sacrifices and worshipping dragons? Still... you would think there was something from those ancient ages that could tell us more about the woman Andraste was. I know that the Divine sent Chantry scholars to sweep the tunnels and recover what relics they could, but it seems like nobody knows what they actually found."

"Do you have a theory on that?" Josie prodded. "Maybe they have not finished their work yet?"

"Maybe," Bethany shrugged. "I saw some of the passages in the temple being sealed, supposedly for safety reasons. I'm not really sure what's going on there, but I hope to ask Justinia about it later. It's not like she has the time to indulge my idle curiosity while preparing for peace talks." I just hope that the secrecy is not because of something they discovered in the temple that should not be shared with the faithful, Bethany added silently, deciding not to voice her ungrounded doubts to Josephine and anyone else that could overhear them. Sealing parts of the temple could be done for various reasons, safety being one of them. I saw those sacrificial slabs of the Disciples, stones that had soaked up blood of hundreds over the centuries. Perhaps the faithful don't really need to know about that... to see how far from one can stray from the true path while still thinking that they are fulfilling the wishes of the Maker.

"Maybe the Divine will tell you more later. And maybe I'll manage to persuade you to share some of those secrets with me," Josie winked at her, then looking sharply to the left at someone approaching their table, Bethany also turning her head to face Cassandra, the Seeker looking concerned as she walked up to them, refusing to take the seat that Bethany quickly offered to her.

"Something the matter, Cassandra?" Bethany asked, frowning a little. So close to the start of the Conclave, she really did not want to hear any bad news.

"I saw him again, but just as before, he managed to elude us," Cassandra said, looking angry with herself. "I don't like this, Bethany."

"Should I warn the Antivan delegation before they depart, Lady Pentaghast?" Josephine asked with concern.

"Ah... Lady Montilyet," Cassandra appeared a little unsettled, as if she hadn't noticed Josephine sitting opposite to Bethany. "Forgive my manners... but, no, I am certain this is not of great concern. I simply... would like to see this man apprehended and questioned. Someone skulking around and being evasive... it's not helping to put my mind at ease."

"Some strange elf has been sighted around the temple and the village," Bethany explained. "A bald headed mage. Perhaps he simply wants to attend the Conclave, but is too afraid to approach us? It would make sense if he is one of the Dalish."

"I suppose it could be true," Cassandra conceded. "Ah, I wish tomorrow would be here already, the Conclave would prove to be successful, and my frayed nerves could finally settle."

"Hear, hear," Bethany chuckled, raising her glass of wine at the Seeker. "Cassandra, could you please find a room at the Chantry for Lady Montilyet to stay overnight? We will depart for the temple together, tomorrow."

"Of course, I will see to it right away," Cassandra nodded. "If you would follow me, Lady Montilyet?"

"As you would have it, Lady Pentaghast," Josephine rose from the table to follow Cassandra, turning to smile at Bethany. "I hope we can continue our riveting conversation later, Lady Hawke."

"I would be delighted to, Lady Montilyet," Bethany replied with a smile, watching Cassandra and Josephine depart. She was about to rise and head out of the tavern herself, but all of a sudden she found the mysterious Grey Warden standing by her table.

"Sister Bethany... as in, Bethany Hawke?" he spoke, looking down at her.

"What of it, Warden Alistair?" Bethany asked.

"May I?" he pointed at the empty chair opposite to Bethany, sitting down once he received her nod of permission. "I may have something for you... a message to pass from someone you might know."

"That sounds... very cryptic," Bethany narrowed her eyes at the Grey Warden.

"Just hear me out, Sister Bethany," Alistair spoke. "Three months ago, while I was stationed at Adamant Fortress, we received some most unexpected visitors, appearing as if out of nowhere. And if you know anything about Adamant, you would know why visitors are such a rare surprise there." Bethany nodded to that before Alistair continued. "One of these two guests was an elven woman, an apostate mage who claimed to be looking for you. Her name was Merrill of the Clan Sabrae."

"Merrill?" Bethany gasped, her hands trembling so hard that she spilled some of the wine without noticing. "Maker... she's alive? I had already given up hope!" She took a few moments to recollect herself. "Where... where is she now?"

"I accompanied her to Velun," Alistair shrugged. "From there, she planned to head to Val Royeaux, but she did not say what she was going to do after that. And that was almost three months ago. So... no, I have no idea where she might be now, but I thought that it would be comforting for you to know that Merrill is alive. She was very... upset at the thought that you might have perished in the Kirkwall rebellion."

"Yes... yes, it is a great comfort, Warden Alistair..." Bethany muttered, quickly gulping down all her remaining wine, hoping that it would help her to recompose herself. "I thank you for bringing these news to me... but excuse me now... I must go and think more on this..."

With trembling legs, Bethany left the Singing Maiden, pressing her back against the wall outside and breathing heavily, the crisp, cool mountain ail filling her lungs and slowly helping her calm down. Merrill was alive and looking for her... she was relieved to hear the news, yes, but... the joy she was feeling was immediately thrown in sharp conflict with her other feelings, the powerful attraction that she had lately begun to develop for Josie. Maker, this is going to be one big mess to sort out...


Temple of the Sacred Ashes

Maxime Trevelyan sighed, having finished combing his short dark hair, critically inspecting his appearance in a broken shard of mirror for what must have been the fifth time that evening. Everything about this... Conclave seemed so dull, at least thus far, there was nothing else for him to do than to remain cooped up in his small chamber at this grim temple, Maxime along with the others ordered to wait patiently until the Chantry representatives worked out the final few kinks before the peace talks could begin in earnest.

Oh, it was not as if Maxime was opposed to peace between mages and the templars, far from it. He simply did not understand why he had to be a part of it; he had nothing to do with this conflict. Just because his sister happened to be a skilled mage with personal stake to see peace restored, he had not expected that his father would contact him, the black sheep of the Trevelyan family, to specifically ask him to be in charge of the guard detail protecting his sister and other mages from Ostwick traveling to the Conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Certainly, his reputation in the circles of mercenaries for hire had grown over the past decade, but even so, Maxime knew that it would have taken extraordinary circumstances for his father to end his forced exile, to welcome him back and ask for his aid, in return for a promise to be welcomed back amongst the family, to have his part of inheritance, no matter how small, restored to him.

The offer had been too tempting for Maxime to reject, even if he did not particularly look forward to all the family dinners he would be expected to be a part of once again. From his loyalist mage sister to his two brothers, both vehement supporters of the Chantry, everyone in his family was so very... proper, so zealously committed to the worship of Maker, something that had caused him to rebel in the first place. The first disappointment for his father came when he was rejected from templar training, the holy warriors of the Chantry claiming that Maxime was too wild and unpredictable to serve in the Templar Order.

That was only the start of the chain of events that would eventually see him exiled. His father had managed to successfully persuade the Revered Mother of the Ostwick Chantry into accepting Maxime as a lay brother, hoping that the presence of the many devout worshippers of the Maker would even out the character of his unruly son. However, his father had miscalculated, forgetting about one of Maxime's greatest weaknesses to this very day... his inability to resist beautiful women. In a few months, Maxime had managed to seduce several of the attractive lay sisters amongst the Ostwick Chantry, and it was only a matter of time until a scandal broke out and Lord Trevelyan was forced to come and collect his unruly youngest son from causing more mischief and further shame upon their proud family name.

Next, his father had sent him to one of the small family holdings near the city of Markham, the estate that he was supposed to inherit after the passing of the family patriarch. Maxime was expected to prove himself by showing that he could run the estate as its lord, but old sins caught up to him again. The lord of the neighboring lands had a beautiful daughter, promised to some powerful noble in Markham, but she fell for Maxime's charms within a few weeks of their first meeting. Unfortunately, the young woman became pregnant from their frequent passionate encounters, a disastrous turn of events for the two lovers. His father had to use his considerable influence amongst the Marchers, as well as his impressive wealth, in order to silence the slighted noble, having to pay significant reparations in compensation when the would-be husband in Markham understandably declared the pre-marital agreement null and void when the rumors of his supposed bride being pregnant from another man reached his ears.

This had proved to be the last straw for Lord Trevelyan. Maxime suddenly found himself denounced by his family and kicked out on the street with nothing but the clothes on his back. His reputation in the Free Marches had been ruined as well, the citizens of Ostwick and its neighboring cities knew him as someone not to be trusted, and so he had hid himself in the hold of a ship heading for Amaranthine and sailed across the Waking Sea to Ferelden. Granted, it hadn't been his wisest decision ever, because a few months later the Fifth Blight had broken out in Ferelden, and he found himself amongst the many mercenaries recruited to fight under the banner of Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir. Somehow he had managed to come out of the whole mess alive, and even with some respect and recognition amongst his peers, something that helped him hugely in establishing his own mercenary company. Maxime left Ferelden during the civil war in 9:33 Dragon, certain that Queen Anora would be routed by Arl Eamon's forces, unwilling to find himself in Ferelden once the blood mage rumored to be behind everything that Arl Eamon did, rose to power and began the inevitable purges to ferret out those who had stood against her.

Since then, Maxime had worked all around Thedas, following the trail of coin to Orlais, Nevarra, and lately back to the Free Marches where almost ten years later nobody fortunately recognized him. He had made inquiries about the fate of the woman who was supposed to give birth to his child ten years ago, becoming greatly angered when he learned the full truth of where his actions had led. The young woman's father had tried to force her to get rid of the child, to terminate the pregnancy, despite the fact that the arranged marriage had already fallen through. The young woman had refused and had instead committed suicide by jumping from the tower of her father's castle. Maxime pondered using his mercenary company to take revenge on the despicable noble, but before he had managed to launch an attack, his father's unexpected summons reached him, calling upon him to return to Ostwick and then accompany his sister on the road to Haven, deep into the Southern Ferelden.

And that was where he currently found himself, in the ass-end of nowhere, waiting for the peace talks to begin and hopefully swiftly conclude, unlikely as it seemed. Certainly, there was no shortage of beautiful women here, amongst all the participating factions, but they were all far too preoccupied with the Conclave itself and did not respond well to his attempts at flirting. Also, the guards of all delegations were expected to remain confined to their quarters, and he had already been admonished for breaking this rule several times, but that was never going to stop Maxime once her became sufficiently bored. Surely there was nothing wrong with him stepping outside of his drab chamber to look for Cecilia, his dearly beloved sister, currently in talks with the mages of Starkhaven, trying to agree on a unified stance in the upcoming talks.

Wearing the most innocent expression on his face in preparation of encountering a particularly suspicion-filled Chantry sister, Maxime wandered through the halls of the dimly lit, oppressive ancient temple, feeling bored and looking for something interesting to capture his attention. There were the occasional groups of mages and templars conferring amongst themselves, usually behind closed doors, but mostly the temple was quiet. Perhaps this relative silence was the reason why he was able to overhear a deep voice as he was approaching the part of the temple that the Divine herself had appropriated as her quarters. He could not overhear exactly what was being said, but he was immediately certain of one thing, the voice belonged to someone who had no business being in the temple.

Sensing the opportunity to uncover some nefarious plot, Maxime all but ran towards the heavy wooden doors that led into the Divine's quarters. Something definitely was wrong here; he could hear that disembodied voice speaking again and he could see flickers of malevolent red glow through the cracks in the doors. Maxime pushed against the door, failing to make them budge, but the youngest son of the Trevelyan family did not despair. Taking a little run-up, he threw his muscled frame against the door, forcing them open with his shoulder and stumbling into a larger hall, facing a sight he could not have dreamed up in his worst nightmares.

The Divine was there, held in place by tendrils of red and green magical energy, surrounded on all sides by men and women in Grey Warden armor. In front of the Divine stood a creature most disgusting, some kind of a cross between a darkspawn emissary and a human, only much more ugly, channeling a ray of green energy from a strange looking orb into the chest of the barely conscious leader of the Andrastian faith.

"What is going on here?" Maxime exclaimed, against his better judgment immediately attracting the attention of the foul darkspawn and the Wardens. Before anyone could say or do anything, however, the orb fell from the darkspawn creature's hands and began to roll towards Maxime, coming to rest at his feet. Without thinking, Maxime impulsively bent down to pick it up, ignoring the roar of defiance from the darkspawn creature.

The next thing Maxime Trevelyan knew was his body suddenly seizing with debilitating pain, the world around him exploding in blindingly white fury.


Flemeth stood behind a heavy curtain bearing heraldry of the Andrastian Chantry, the Witch of the Wilds shrouded by an invisibility spell that left her impossible to detect as she observed the ritual, taking place in front of her. Corypheus stood before the struggling Divine, the helpless old woman being held in place by the magic of the possessed Grey Wardens, the magister readying the foci orb of Fen'Harel, drawing upon the ancient elven magic that in his arrogance he had not bothered to truly comprehend, then unleashing the magic that was supposed to bring him physically across the Veil and into the Fade.

The old witch did not doubt that the orb was capable of doing such, in fact, she already could feel the Veil weakening and dissolving around them as Corypheus poured more and more of his power into the channeling energies of the orb. Flemeth was more concerned about all the other things that might happen should Corypheus complete his ritual and open a gateway into the Fade. A dashing hero should burst through those doors right about now, Flemeth thought to herself, a little nagging doubt beginning to creep into her mind that perhaps this time she had miscalculated her machinations. Just then, the doors to the Divine's quarters were thrown wide open, a man charging in and beginning to shout at Corypheus.

Ah, and there we go, Flemeth chuckled knowingly to herself. He does not look particularly bright, but handsome as far as men go, and seems to have air of an experienced adventurer about him. Yes... he will do nicely. I had wished for a mage, of course. This one will never find his way out of the Fade, not without my help.

There was a barely noticeable blur behind the curtain as Flemeth cast a subtle spell, everyone's attention on the intruder and never noticing the flash of magic that raised the Divine's limp arm and propelled it forward to strike the elven orb out of the hands of Corypheus, the glowing sphere bouncing towards the surprised looking man at the door, who predictably bent down to pick it up.

And here we go again... the creation of another hero, another legend... I will never become tired of this game, Flemeth laughed to herself as the world around her burst into flame and exploded, feeling the familiar pull of the Beyond, giving herself to the draw of magical currents, throwing her into the Fade together with Corypheus, his Warden lackeys, and Flemeth's own chosen tool of destruction of the ancient magister.