Chapter Eight


"It is not a matter for debate. There will be abominations among the mages and we must be prepared," I say to Lelianna and Josephine.

"If we rescind the offer of an alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best - tyrannical at worst," Josephine complains, all politeness gone as she stands there, once again opposing me.

And then Lyla emerges from the Chantry and I'm seething. I trust this woman and yet I am shaking. In all of my years as a Templar, there was still use behind it all, to protect innocents against demon possession, as mages are so vulnerable to fall for. And yet it feels as if my concerns - well-founded concerns - are falling on deaf ears.

"What were you thinking letting mages loose with no oversight?" I demand of her. "The veil is torn open!"

"We're not monsters! We can control ourselves without any outside help," she retorts, her arms crossed.

"This is not an issue of self-control," I state. "Even the strongest mages can be overcome by demons in conditions like these-" I'm implying that it could even happen to her, too, if she's not careful. I can't bear to think of her being possessed by a demon, but it's such a real threat that I have to consider it.

Cassandra interrupts us. "Enough arguing! None of us where there. We cannot afford to second guess our people," she says, looking between us.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, exasperated, whilst Lyle continues to glare at me. Well, that smile she gave me before she left wasn't going to reappear anytime soon.

"The sole point of the Herald's mission was to gain the mages' aid and that was accomplished."

Lelianna looks thoughtful. "We should look into the things you saw in this dark future… the assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army?"

"One battle at a time," I say. Lyla's report on the events at Redcliffe had not been light reading, but we could not stumble and flee with the fear of possibilities. I sigh, "It's going to take time to organise our troops and the mage recruits. Let's take this to the war room."

The others nod, but Lyla looks away. "Join us," I say, trying a smile. "None of this means anything without your mark after all."

"Thank you; I would be honoured to help with the plan," she says curtly, and Josephine beams at her polite response, even though we were at each other's throats only moments before.

"I'll begin preparations to march on the summit… Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory," I say, as we adjourn to the war room.


As the plans to march up to the conclave intensify, I find myself restricted to time away from my duties. I even have a tent made up off the training yard so I can be on call almost all of the time. It reminds me of when I was an initial recruit, sleeping on the hard ground in a campsite, yet my tent is very much my own, and I don't have to share. It's something that, now that I'm a Commander, I actually do enjoy the odd little privilege, here and there.

I wake at the crack of dawn, which is my preferred time of day before most of the recruits are up and about. In fact, it's usually when hardly anyone is around, except perhaps the blacksmith and sometimes Lelianna. I've had a niggling plan in my mind all night - no thanks to my lack of sleep - so I think I'll head up to the war room nice and early, to read any reports that may have come in the night.

The sun is just peering over the mountains as my boots crunch through the fresh flurry of snow on the ground in Haven. My eyes flicker to the silent cabin belonging to Lyla as I pass, and I still can't believe what I did when she had first arrived. I thank the Maker that Solas chooses to remain silent on the topic - what would she do if she found out I had been alone with her as she lay defenceless? Probably hate Templars even more, I think sourly. There had always been rumours that the Templars in the circle would watch the mages as they slept, but that was just idle gossip to fan the flames of distrust.

I pass by the tavern when the door swings open and there is laughter. Stopping in my tracks I stare as the Tevinter mage Dorian stumbles out with his arm around Lyla's shoulders.

"Ah! Well look who it is, Lyla! It's your handsome Commander!"

I am frozen on the spot staring at them both. I'm not sure what's stirring in my stomach - jealousy? Seeing the way his arm is so casually draped around her shoulders makes me clench my jaw.

"Dorian, please - let's get you to bed," she says, her cheeks pink, her smile lazy. Her words are a little slurred, but not as much as Dorian.

"I should go…" I begin, my jaw so tight at the thought of them going to bed-

Lyla steps forward and I am shocked - and thrilled - when she places a finger on my lips to silence me. It's so sudden, so forward and out of character, that I can feel my eyebrows rising in shock.

"Shh, you work too much Cullen," she says and smiles with a glint in her eye. Dorian sways next to her and chuckles quietly. A moment later, she snaps her finger away as if she's just realised what she's done and Dorian hoots with laughter, making a flock of birds vacate a tree behind them.

"Lyla, I'm sorry to interrupt but I think I'm going to be sick." Dorian states, matter of factly and she nods, helping him back to his cabin. I can't help but stare after them, relishing her touch - her incredibly intimate touch - wondering what it means.

Needless to say I am distracted as I enter the vacant war table; my plan which had kept me up at night has all but evaporated following the encounter with Lyla and Dorian. I realise that I know so little of Lyla personally, that maybe she is just over friendly with the people she is actually more than just an acquaintance with. I wonder if I'm now not just an acquaintance, but a friend? To be part of her inner circle would be a delight, but I cannot get carried away. It's clear that her and Dorian are hitting it off… I think I've missed my chance, if there ever was one.

Lelianna is the next to join me in the war room, around an hour later, when I think I've controlled my thoughts and focused back on the task at hand. I am wrong when she casually says, "have you seen the Herald this morning, Commander?"

I can't help but glare. Of course, her little birds are everywhere, always watching. I suppress a shiver at her probing and try not to remember the feel of Lyla's slender finger on my mouth.

"I think you already know the answer to that question," I say gruffly.

She chuckles quietly. "Now, now Commander," she teases. I think she's going to continue, but my glare silences her. Eventually she says, "what do you think of the Tevinter mage, Dorian?"

She's trying to probe, I know it. "You want me to check on every mage that comes into Haven? I'll be quite over worked if that's the case."

"I meant as a person, not from an Ex-Templar perspective," she soothes.

I sigh. "He is an… interesting addition to the Herald's inner circle," I admit. "I am not quick to trust him - he is a mage and from Tevinter. It's the two things I was told to distrust as a Templar."

"There is something I cannot place about him," Lelianna admits. "He has come into the fold too quickly for my liking."

"But we weren't there in Redcliffe," I say softly. "We do not really know what happened in this 'bad future' mentioned in the reports."

We fall into a thoughtful silence, as my skin crawls at the thought. Mages messing with time is power none should have, and yet they had stumbled into it, seen what would happen if their cause failed and more. Finally I say, "If the Herald trusts him, then so must we."

Lelianna nods thoughtfully and I look up when Josephine enters with Lyla, who looks a little worse for wear.

"Long night?" Lelianna quips playfully.

Lyla rubs her forehead. "Remind me never to stay up drinking with Dorian again. I really can't keep up," she says. Her voice is husky, making me shift awkwardly on my feet, trying to deny how attractive it sounds. Andraste preserve me…

The whole meeting, we refuse to meet each other's gaze. I can only look at her when she's either staring down at the map or discussing things with either women beside me. Even when I address her, she appears to look over my shoulder, focusing on something else, or she's looking back at a report in her hand. I am aware of Lelianna noting every stolen glance between us, and it becomes so suffocating, that I can't wait to be out of the war room.

By noon, the latest business has been concluded, so we break for the day to see to our other duties. I am back in the training yard, doing my usual pace around the new recruits when I see Lyla approaching slowly. We greet each other politely and fall into a strange silence. She stands next to me for some time as I watch the recruits.

Finally she says: "Cullen… look, about this morning…"

"It's fine, don't worry about it," I say quickly.

"No, I ought to apologise. I completely made a fool of myself, and I know that as someone on the council, that I should perhaps… act with more dignity."

I open my mouth to say something then snap it shut. What in the world could she want me to say in reply?

"I was hoping that coming out of the tavern at the hour we did, that we would avoid anyone," she continues, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes distractedly. "So much for us starting over," she finishes, and turns to leave.

I don't want her to go - I want her to look at me. I want her to see that I really couldn't care less what anyone else thought. "I thought it was amusing," I smile. She turns, and to my delight, her face is flushing. "Just don't tell Varric, or he will never let you forget it."

She bites her lip - curse that delightful habit of hers! This is like my infatuation with Surana, only much, much worse. I thought it was the foolishness of youth, but clearly not. I rub the back of my neck and turn my attention to the training recruits once more, but she remains next to me. As much as I hate to admit it, I like her there at my side and pray she won't leave.

"I should get to know you better," she eventually says hurriedly "We are working together after all."

It's a relief to talk so I'm not standing there like a complete moron and very un-Commander like. I smile. "What would you like to know?"

"Alright," she says. "Where are you from?"

I ponder for a moment at her question. "I grew up in Ferelden, near Honnleath. I was transferred to Kirkwall shortly after the Blight. This is the first I've returned in almost ten years."

"You haven't seen Ferelden in ten years? Are you glad to be back?"

I shrug. "I was not sorry to leave at the time. I did not expect to return." We begin walking around the training yard. "Now - between the Divine's murder and the Breach - I've arrived to find nothing but chaos." I give a bitter laugh.

"So you were in Ferelden during the Blight," she says. "Did you fight Darkspawn?"

Her question is innocent enough, but there are flashes in my head. Flashes of torture in the Circle, the pain, the hallucinations, Surana… it's all before me once again. I exhale slowly "No… I was stationed at Ferelden's Circle Tower… the Circle had troubles of its own. I… remained there during the Blight."

"What happened at the Circle Tower?" she asks softly, meeting my gaze.

I knew it would be asked of me at some point. And yet I am reluctant - if others knew of what happened… I would not be seen to be as a commander fit for the Inquisition. Instead I say:

"Few who survived the Blight have fond memories of that time. I would … prefer not to speak of it."

Thankfully she nods, knowing to not prod. She is just curious, I realise that. "Alright, what was Kirkwall like?"

I slip into my report mode, and tell it bluntly, as I do anyone else. It's a natural reflex and I think it helps when I speak of it. "While I was there, Quinari occupied and then attacked the city, the Viscount's murder caused political unrest, relations between mages and Templars fell apart, an apostate blew up the Chantry, and the Knight-Commander went mad… other than that, it was fine." I try a smile, but cannot muster it. Maker, why does she ask such hard-hitting questions? I almost feel like I'm being analysed by her.

"What happened between Kirkwall's Mages and Templars?" she asks curiously. I forget that she is from a small clan who have had little to do with the conflicts that have taken over my life.

"Well you were at the conclave: you must've heard people speak of it." I say.

"Yes… but you were there," she presses.

I do not like where this conversation is going. I know that she, a mage, is going to judge me, an ex-Templar, just like all the other mages who are streaming into Haven. Just when I think things will be better between us, she has to discuss the most sensitive topic. Can't they all just leave it be? I'm trying, so hard, to get away from that life - from what I was… can they not see that?

I sigh and cross my arms - a natural defensive manoeuvre I've come to adopt. "There was tension between mages and templars long before I arrived. Eventually it reached a breaking point. There was fighting in the streets. Abominations began killing both sides: it was a nightmare."

"What happened?"

I frown at the memory. "The Templars should've restored order, but red lyrium had driven Knight-Commander Meredith mad. She threatened to kill Kirkwall's Champion, turned on her own men! I'm not sure how far she would've gone," I admit. "Too far."

Lyla tilts her head. "So you opposed her?"

I nod. "I stood with the Champion against her - in the end. But I should've seen through Meredith sooner."

Hopefully she can see I am different. Maker, please let her believe it.

She tactfully changes the subject. "Varric's from Kirkwall. Did you two know each other?"

"I knew he was friends with the Champion of Kirkwall, but little else," I say, rolling my eyes. "We've spoken more since I joined the Inquisition: largely at Varric's insistence. Apparently I spend too much time with a serious expression on my face, and it's bad for my health," I say bitterly.

She smiles again, wanting to say more but stops herself. "Well I should let you get back to work…"

"Yes I suppose… although you did say I work too much." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Instantly I remember everything from that morning and my face feels so warm. Maker curse me…

But she laughs. And it's a genuine little laugh that I can't help but laugh in return. It's infectious and soon it's just us two, laughing on the edge of the training yard, laughing as if it's all so ridiculous and silly, despite there being a massive hole in the sky above our heads. Recruits are turning to look, but for once I do not care about this fall in protocol as I simply enjoy this moment, knowing that they are few and far between.


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