Brady and Leliana stood at the gates of the Royal Palace and awaited for Anora to greet them. Brady stood with his arms crossed, shifting his weight between his feet. He grumbled, and undid his arms. He pulled at his brown leather gloves and sprawled out his fingers.

The two palace guards at each side of the gates stiffened when Brady glanced over to them, wrapping their hands around the handles of their sheathed swords.

He narrowed his eyes and huffed. He itched the back of his neck and grumbled underneath his breath.

"Patience," Leliana said, a tinge of annoyance in her tone. "Maybe if you had not overslept, we would have not been late."

"You could have waked me."

"Maker, I tried."

"Not hard enough, it seems."

A frown formed on her lips with a crease etched in between her brows.

He smirked, pointing a finger at her. "You're cute when you're angry."

She hummed, "I'm about to be adorable, then."

He laughed, and left her alone, focusing his boredom on kicking pebbles on the ground as far as he could.

They waited for a few more moments when Anora emerged from the palace to greet them, directing them to follow her through the courtyard. The courtyard was decorated and colored with indigenous flowers and masterworks of masonry displayed with the polished path to the palace and the giant fountain seated in the middle of the courtyard that misted Brady with cool water as he walked by, and statues exhibiting a distinct Ferelden charm with their rustic tone; both beautiful works of art and modest in design.

They entered the main palace doors. Brady eyed the old portraits against the grey stone walls of military heroes and previous Ferelden kings and queens. There was a large, rectangular vacancy on the wall tinted a lighter grey, the drastic contrast catching Brady's eye.

Brady pointed toward the vacancy on the wall. "I think one of your portraits fell."

Anora looked at Brady, and brought her eyes to the vacancy. She let out a deep breath, "That's where a portrait of my father used to be."

Brady tore his eyes away from the vacancy and gulped. "My apologies."

She continued down the hall to the throne room. The sound of bickering arose from inside. Anora pulled on the heavy door, silencing the conversation inside and directing attention to the open door.

King Alistair slouched on his throne, pinching the bridge of his nose, and leaned forward with a bright smile at the sight of Leliana. Arl Teagan sneered at Brady as they entered the throne room behind Anora. Damon Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden, dropped his crossed arms to his sides and grinned at Brady and Leliana.

Arl Teagan pointed at Brady, "What is the meaning of this?"

Alistair raised his hand and silenced Teagan, "They're here on my accord. Be nice."

Teagan shifted his eyes to Damon. "This man just stole from the Teryn. Your brother, Warden."

"Technically, Arl Teagan, he stole from me." Damon replied.

"Alistair, I will not stand for this!" Bann Teagan shouted, his face turning a shade of red as he flickered his eyes away from Alistair and stabbed them towards Brady.

"Then please, Uncle, sit," Alistair said, making Damon stifle a laugh. Alistair looked at Damon and let out a chuckle, "Thought you'd like that one."

Teagan waved him off and stormed through the throne room towards the exit. He brushed shoulders with Brady, and murmured into his ear, "If you do any ill, I'll personally take your head."

Brady pushed his brows together. "I'll give it to you."

Teagan huffed, and exited the throne room. The guards shut the doors behind him and returned to a stiff stance, facing forward.

Damon descended the short stairs in front of the throne and greeted Leliana with a tight hug. He held out his hand to Brady and they shared a firm handshake.

He let go of Brady's hand and wiggled his finger, "Just one thing, Inquisitor… before the pleasantries."

Brady tipped his head to the side, then felt a quick jab to his gut. He doubled over and let out a wince. Damon tapped Brady's cheek and held a smile.

"That's for putting my wife and son in danger," Damon cocked a brow. "Do not ever do that again."

Brady croaked, "Noted."

"So, there is an ancient, elven 'doom' dagger in the hands of the Inquisition's old enemies," Alistair said, bringing everyone's attention to him. "And the chantry wants it back. Am I missing anything…?"

"Yes," Damon said. "Morrigan would like it back."

"That's not happening," Leliana shook her head. "It's too dangerous to be in her hands."

"In our hands," Damon expressed. "It's just as much mine as it is hers."

Brady chuckled, "Kind of like a 'what's yours is mine and what's mine is yours' thing?"

"More like 'what's mine is hers and what's hers is hers,'" Damon laughed.

"And Brady still managed to steal it from you," Leliana argued. "It needs to be secured by the Chantry."

"I agree," Alistair chimed in. "Morrigan shouldn't be in possession of such a deadly weapon."

Damon scoffed, "Morrigan is a deadly weapon."

"Bound to the will of Mythal," Leliana retorted. "She's dangerous enough without the dagger."

"I could say the same of the Chantry," Damon shifted, his brows pushing together. "What could they possibly want with a weapon of such caliber?"

Leliana narrowed her eyes at Damon. He shot her a cheeky grin, and a sigh escaped her.

"Damon brings up a good point," Alistair said. "I want to help you, I do. But, even I have grown a slight distrust towards the Chantry's leadership and forces after their actions during the rebellion."

Leliana huffed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Brady glanced at Leliana and straightened, "We can argue about what to do with this dagger after we get it back. Right now, we're just wasting time."

"The Inquisitor- excuse me- Lord Trevelyan is right, your majesty. It is in everyone's best interest to return it," Anora said.

"That we can agree on," Alistair fell back against his throne. "What can we do?"

"We have received information on an auction, disguised as a party, organized by someone who goes by the name of 'The Dark Wolf,'" Leliana explained. "Ferelden's underground will all be in attendance. We could uncover if Florianne, Samson, and Calpernia have tried to sell the dagger, or used it for that matter."

Alistair cocked a brow at Damon, "Aren't you the Dark Wolf?"

Damon flickered his eyes across the faces of everyone in the room and waved his hands in front of him, "I was… was."

"Many have assumed the name after the blight," Anora said. "It is now a matter of who is working beneath the name now."

"Anora, show them to the records room. Perhaps there's something in our reports," Alistair ordered, and she nodded. He took a breath and grinned, "You are all welcome to stay as long as needed," he ticked his head to the side and looked at Damon and Leliana, "You remember where your rooms are, right?"

Damon rolled his eyes, "The one with the shitty view."

Brady bowed, "Thank you, your majesty."

Anora ordered them to follow her out of the throne room. She led them through the foyer and descended down the stairs into an underground section of the palace that was lined with numerous guards. At the far side of the corridor, there was a heavy door where two armed guards stood at each side of the door.

Anora opened the door and waved Leliana, Brady, and Damon in. The room was of moderate size with ceiling high shelves lining the walls with a sliding ladder attached to each shelf. The shelves were cluttered with brown leather clad folders, some appearing more worn than others. There was a wooden table in the center of the room with two chairs on opposite sides and unlit candles at each end of the table.

Brady studied the shelves, noticing the alphabetical tags separating each section of folders, the spines of some folders wider than others. He glanced over at the 'I' section of folders, and saw a bulky folder that took up a large space on the shelf in the middle of the section.

They watched Anora thumb through the collection, then pull a single folder off of the shelf. She placed it on the table and opened the folder.

"This holds all of the names that have taken up the name of 'The Dark Wolf' in the past… Including you, Warden." Anora said, flipping through the pages in the file. She stopped at the final page in the folder and scanned her eyes across the page. "According to our recent intelligence, we suspect that the current 'Dark Wolf' is a woman. Who this woman is, however, we do not know."

She pulled out a piece of parchment and turned the page towards them. They leaned forward and read the parchment.

Damon craned his neck and groaned, "Maker, not him."

"The Arl of Denerim?" Brady cocked his head. "Your Arl deals with the Dark Wolf?"

Leliana crossed her arms, "He is an unsavory man. I do not doubt it."

"Vaughn Kendalls is nothing short of a monster," Anora shook her head. "But he is the rightful Arl, despite our efforts to strip him of that."

Brady handed the parchment back to Anora, and she slipped it back into the folder. She closed the folder and returned it to its proper place on the shelf. She walked over to another section of shelves and pulled another folder and handed it to Brady.

Brady thumbed through it. He scrunched his nose and curled his lip as he read through the Arl's file and the details of his offenses: all taking place in the Denerim Alienage. He looked up at Anora and tossed the file onto the table.

"You allow this man to be the Arl of Denerim?"

Anora shrunk back and her eyes drooped, "We have tried to make him answer for his crimes against the city's elves, but we never have enough proof or statements to properly prosecute," She looked at Damon, "He supported you and Alistair during the blight and hangs it over our heads whenever guards start sniffing around."

"And you wonder why elves hate us," Brady scoffed. "These politics make it impossible for them to have proper justice."

Anora sighed, "He is your best lead to discover where the Dark Wolf is hosting this auction you speak of. Unfortunately, this is all I can give you on the matter."

"And why's that?" Brady said.

"I cannot interrogate Vaughn, as I represent the Crown," she explained. "It would cause an entire incident with the nobles."

Leliana pinched the bridge of her nose, "If he were to know I was part of the chantry, he could spin it as though the chantry was abusing its power."

Brady turned to Damon, "We'll do it."

Damon nodded, "I have been waiting to kick Vaughan's ass since after the Landsmeet."

"You think he'll talk?" Brady said.

"It's us," Damon said. "We'll get him to sing."

"You will do no such thing," Anora protested. "Warden, you will cause a hysteria if you do so."

Damon clenched his jaw, "Then what do you expect us to do?"

"We'll figure it out," Brady cocked a brow at Damon.

Leliana scrunched her brows together, "What are you going to do? Walk up to his front door and ask him nicely?"

Brady smirked and glanced at Damon. Damon nodded with a smile.

Leliana's face fell and her arms fell to her side, "No, no. Absolutely not. Don't you dare-"

"We're professionals," Damon said. "Don't you trust us?"

Leliana and Anora shared a look, then replied in unison, "No."


"We're not telling Leliana about this, right?"

"As long as you never tell Morrigan."

Brady and Damon stood paces away from the main doors of the Arl of Denerim's estate. Brady looked over at the two guards in front of the doors, then turned to Damon. Damon stood with his arms crossed and raised his brows.

"Go ahead," Damon said.

Brady wrinkled his forehead, "You do it."

"This was my idea. So, you do it."

"Exactly, it was your idea. It's only right that you ask."

"How does that make any sense?"

"Age before beauty, Warden."

"They'll recognize me," Damon argued. "I'm kind of a big deal around here."

"If you're a big deal, I'm a bigger deal."

The two guards eyed down Brady and Damon, and Brady groaned.

"Fine," Brady sighed. "But stay close."

Damon nodded, and shooed Brady towards the gate. Brady clenched his jaw and approached the two guards.

"State your business," The female guard to the left of the doors said.

"Good afternoon, good sers. I have a letter of the upmost importance that must be delivered to the Arl immediately."

The male guard squinted and flicked his chin at Damon standing behind Brady, "Who's your friend?"

The female guard narrowed her eyes, "Looks familiar, that one."

Damon pursed his lips and side-eyed Brady. Brady shook his head and urged Damon to take a step closer, "Him? He's… my father."

Damon clenched his jaw and grated his teeth, "Yes, his father," Damon rustled his fingers through Brady's hair, making Brady hold back a wince as Damon pulled on his short locks, "Had em' young. Very young. Started a courier business to support me and the boy. Times were tough back then, you know how it is."

"Yes," The male guard narrowed his eyes, "Quite."

"We have heard no word of a letter to be delivered to the Arl," The female guard said.

"Of course you haven't," Brady said. "We had just received it from… well, I am to keep their identity concealed, at the sender's insistence."

The guards shared a look, then the male guard sighed. "He is not here at the moment. I will inform him of your visit and send word to you when he returns."

"Well, this is an urgent matter, a very urgent matter," Brady stressed. "Do you know where the Arl may perhaps be?"

"No," the female guard said, her voice flat. "You are more than welcome to search the entire city of Denerim, if this letter of yours is as important as you claim."

Brady thanked the guards and retreated with Damon away from the estate. Damon pressed on as Brady followed behind. Damon evaded busy streets through the back alleys. Brady broke into a jog and caught up to Damon.

"You know where he is?"

Damon glanced to Brady and shook his head, "I have an idea. Come on."

Damon and Brady hurried through the back alleys and reached the gates to the Denerim alienage and entered. Elves populated the roads, talking outside of establishments and enjoying the pleasant weather of the day. Brady followed Damon through the streets, and stopped at the sound of someone calling out to him.

"Good ser," said an impoverished elf. He rose from his seat on the ground beside another elf and sheepishly approached Damon and Brady. "Care to spare some coin for a war veteran?"

"A war veteran?" Brady reached into his pocket. "Which war?"

He pointed to the sky, "The war against the breach, ser. An Inquisition soldier, I was. Knew the Inquisitor personally."

Damon and Brady shared a look. Damon shook his head and waved Brady off as he placed a few silvers into the elf's hand.

"I hope this is enough."

The elf shoved the silvers into his pockets and smiled, "More than enough. Thank you, good ser."

Brady nodded and departed from the elf. He overheard the elf brag to the elf beside him.

Damon chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice to see I'm not the only one who fell for that."

Damon approached a storefront and pushed on Brady's chest, urging him to stay outside and look for any sign of Vaughan. Damon entered the storefront, and Brady walked through the alienage. He leaned against a support beam near a large tree in the center of the alienage and watched the people talk and laugh.

A short, red haired elven woman in elder's robes approached Brady from the side, startling him. He pushed off of the support beam and turned to her.

"Apologies, m'lady," Brady bowed his head. "I did not see you there."

She cocked her head with a smile, "Manners? From a shem? Not something you see every day."

He held out his hand, "Brady Trevelyan, a pleasure to meet you."

She looked down at his hand and crossed her arms. "Trevelyan? You are the Inquisitor, are you not?"

"No. Not anymore, anyway."

"Shianni, the alienage's Hahren, or 'elder,' in your tongue."

"If I had known I was to meet an elder, I would have shaved," he grinned.

"Watch your charm," Shianni hummed, "I've heard stories of you. Try not to make your presence known here. My people are distrustful of human-led organizations, and more so of their leaders."

"I'll keep my head down," he nodded. "Thank you for the warning."

"I've gathered this isn't a casual visit to the alienage. What do you need?"

"I'm looking for Vaughan Kendalls. Do you have any idea where I could find him?"

Shianni closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "That bastard. What do you want with the likes of him?"

"He has information on a-"

"If you have no intention of flaying him alive, I cannot help you."

"I understand where you are coming from, but- "

"No, you don't," she scoffed and hardened her stare, pushing her brows together. "You really don't."

A commotion arose and the elven around him froze, all idle chatter dissipated into silence. Some hurried inside of their homes and stores, slamming the doors shut. Brady wrinkled his brow and looked around the alienage. He caught three well-dressed men stomping across the alienage.

He brought his eyes to Shianni, who eyed the men with scorn.

"There goes your man. Right on time."

The three men approached a group of young elven women. They backed away, but the men persisted, one of them running his hand down a blonde elven woman's arm. She slapped his hand away, and he grabbed her by the shoulders, spewing curses at the woman.

"Hey," Brady shouted, catching the attention of everyone around him, including the three men. He sprinted over to the men and placed himself between the men and the group of elven women, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Whatever the fuck I want," The man in front replied, holding his arms out wide and wearing a cocky grin, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Who are you?"

"Arl Vaughan Kendalls," Brady narrowed his eyes. "Just the man I'm looking for."

Vaughan sneered at Brady and waved his hand, "Jonaley, Braden… Make it quick."

Vaughan stepped back and the two men at his side drew their swords. Brady chuckled, and dodged a swing from Braden's sword. He drew the fight away from the elven women and into a clearing in the alienage.

"I advise you to disarm," Brady said.

Jonaley laughed, "Coward."

Brady shook his head, and caught Jonaley's blade with his metallic hand as he swung it towards his neck, forcing a loud clank to echo across the alienage. Brady pulled on the blade and yanked Jonaley forward, disarming him and taking possession of his blade.

Jonaley stood in awe, then pulled a small dagger from his belt. Brady crouched and jabbed the hilt of the sword into Jonaley's knee. Braden approached beside Jonaley, and Brady shot back up to his feet, thrusting his shoulder into Braden's stomach.

Braden slouched over with a grunt. Brady kicked the bottom of his boot into Braden's chin, knocking him out. Jonaley waved his dagger at Brady's calf as he clutched his knee on the ground. Brady brought his blade down on Jonaley's dagger and sent a violent vibration down the blade, forcing the dagger out of Jonaley's hand and into the dirt. Brady kicked the dagger away from him and stomped on his hand.

Jonaley cried out for mercy, clutching his hand and staring up at Brady.

Brady threw his sword across the clearing and crouched down, staring into Jonaley's terrified eyes. Brady glanced at Braden, then back to Jonaley.

"Take your friend and get out of here," Brady ordered. "Vaughan and I need to chat."

Jonaley struggled to his feet and ran to Braden, lifting him off of the ground and throwing Braden's arm over his shoulder. He threw a look over at Brady. Brady sneered, and Jonaley scurried away from Brady and Vaughan.

Brady walked towards Vaughan. Vaughan backpedaled, holding a nervous grin across his face.

"You've caught my attention," Vaughan said, waving his hands out in front of him. "Perhaps we can talk peacefully, no violence needed."

Brady stretched his jaw and caught Vaughan by his collar. He drug him towards the elven women.

He shook his collar, "Apologize."

Vaughan looked up at Brady and spat, "If you think I'm apologizing to a bunch of knife ears-"

Brady curled his upper lip and punched Vaughan with his metallic hand, opening Vaughan's lip and sending a crimson river to cascade down his chin and onto his clothes.

"Apologize." Brady repeated.

"I- I am sorry," Vaughan said, blood spilling from his mouth and coloring his teeth.

Brady shook his collar again and forced Vaughan's head down. He bowed his head to the elven women, "Forgive me for the violence. I hope I didn't ruin your afternoon."

The elven women watched him with wide eyes as he dragged Vaughan across the alienage and into a vacant, shadowed alleyway. He threw him against the side of a building and pinned him against the wall with his forearm against his chest.

"What do you know of the Dark Wolf?"

Vaughan laughed and spat blood into Brady's face, "Go fuck yourself."

Brady wrapped his hand around Vaughan's throat and bared his teeth, "I have no time for games."

Vaughan grabbed Brady's arm and attempted to pry it from his throat. Brady tightened his grip against Vaughan's throat. Vaughan turned a shade of violet as his eyes glassed over. Brady watched the life drain from Vaughan, his lips turning a pale before his eyes.

He heard the faint sound of heavy boots rush towards him, but did not pull his eyes away from Vaughan. He felt heavy hands grasp his shoulders and pull at him.

"Stop," Damon ordered, "He's had enough."

Brady released his grip on Vaughan's throat. Vaughan slumped down against the wall. He craned his neck and gasped for air, choking and spattering blood onto the ground.

"I have it under control," Brady snapped at Damon.

Damon let out a dark chuckle, "I see that."

"I'll have you killed," Vaughan said in between coughs.

Brady thrusted his foot into Vaughan's ribs. Vaughan yelped and curled up on the ground.

"Please, keep talking."

Damon stood in between Vaughan and Brady, pushing his hand against Brady's chest. "My turn."

Damon crouched down to Vaughan and laid a hand on his chin, forcing him to look up at him.

"Hey buddy," Damon smiled, "Listen, my friend here doesn't like you that much. Wants you dead, in fact. Now, I can help you, but you have to tell me what you know about the Dark Wolf."

Vaughan forced his back against the wall and looked at Damon with widened eyes, his breath labored. "I have only spoken to her on a few occasions. She has always been cloaked. I have no idea what she looks like, but her accent is Orlesian," He chuckled and wore a blood stained grin, and tossed a look to Brady. "A mean piece of work. Think you would like her."

"That's what I'm talking about," Damon laughed, tapping Vaughan's cheek. "Hear anything about an auction?"

"Tomorrow night- artifacts, treasure, skins- it's all going to be there," He said, his voice shaky. "You need an invitation to get in."

"Skin?" Brady's forehead crinkled. "There is no slavery in Southern Thedas."

"If you think that is going to stop slavers from making quick coin in Tevinter, you're daft."

"Where can we get an invitation?" Damon asked.

"I don't know," Vaughan said. Brady furrowed his brows and took a step forward. Vaughan quickly reached into his pocket and handed Damon a folded piece of parchment. "Take mine, take mine, dammit."

"It's been a pleasure, Vaughan," Damon said, groaning as he stood up. He reached down to Vaughan and pulled him up to his feet from his collar. Damon flicked his head, "Go home. Get cleaned up," he smirked, and rested a hand on Vaughan's shoulder, "Find a better hobby than tormenting the city elves."

Vaughan shook Damon's hand off of his shoulder stumbled away from Damon and Brady. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and murmured, "You'll pay for this."

Brady took a step forward, but was stopped by Damon. Brady pushed his brows together and glared at Damon, then raised his eyes to Vaughan as he walked away.

"We're just going to let him go?"

"We'll get him," Damon nodded. "But Anora is right, he's the Arl of Denerim. It must be done right."

Brady huffed, "I'll professionally run my sword through him."

"He's not worth being tried and killed over. We're lucky he didn't recognize us."

They left the alleyway and walked side by side through the alienage, prying eyes watching them head towards the exit. When their eyes met with the curious elves, they directed their attention elsewhere.

The group elven women stood in front of them, bringing them to a stop. Damon glanced at Brady, whose attention was solely on the women before them, their eyes focused on Brady.

"Ma serannas," A blonde elven woman said with a small smile.

Brady bowed his head, "Dareth shiral, asha."

Brady continued through the alienage towards the gates. Damon lingered for a moment, smiled at the elven women, and then followed Brady to the bridge and towards the Royal Palace.


Brady and Damon delivered the invitation to Anora when they returned to the Royal Palace. Anora thanked them, and ordered for the invitation to be forged into three separate copies with careful precision by the King's scribes immediately. She dismissed the scribes and reminded Damon and Brady they were allowed free reign of the palace and its pleasures.

Anora told Brady he was more than welcome to ride in the country with her, which he politely declined, more interested in finding out what pleasures the palace contained.

Brady asked for Leliana, and Anora informed him she was in her bedroom, located in the King's personal wing of bedrooms and utilities on the opposite side of his own assigned room. He thanked her, and departed to explore the palace.

He visited the kitchen and spoke to the kitchen staff, asking about Fereldan cuisine and sampling numerous platters that were to be sent to various people in the palace, ranging from the palace guards, to visiting dignitaries and scholars. He was amazed by the various cheeses present in each meal, to which the head chef laughed and informed him of the King's unhealthy love affair with the ingredient.

He requested a bottle of cherry wine and a chocolate cake be sent to Leliana's bedroom, knowing well enough Leliana would easily forget to eat if she was reading through reports and planning various assignments for her agents.

His newfound friends in the kitchen encouraged him to help prepare the chocolate cake. He initially refused, but their eager faces coerced him to stay. The head chef coached him through the steps, and Brady made a mess of the apron they supplied him with as cake batter flung from the wooden bowl as he mixed the ingredients.

The head chef and Brady talked as the cake baked. The head chef cocked a brow, "This is for a lady friend, is it not?"

Brady chuckled, "Can't a man enjoy a chocolate cake for himself?"

The head chef laughed, and retracted his curiosity, returning their conversation to alcohol that complimented different dishes.

When the cake was finished, Brady thanked the head chef and the rest of the staff, and retired to the library.

He read through Fereldan folktales, growing nostalgic for tales he heard before and intrigued by the tales he had not. Scholars shot him glances from afar, and he caught them on occasion, their eyes begging to speak to him, but they just as eagerly turned away and sunk their heads back into their studies.

He searched for Elvhen lore and history, but there was a scarcity on the subject in the library's collection. He grabbed every book he managed to find on the subject, and returned to his seat. He concentrated on the sections dedicated to Fen'Harel, half-laughing as he read through the tales. He sunk back in his seat and watched the words on the page blur and fade as his thoughts begun to travel to moments and conversations shared with his old friend, Solas.

Brady had time to think and understand Solas and his viewpoint after the exalted council, most of his contemplation taking precedence over sleep, culminating in many nights with little to no rest. When he did manage to sleep, his dreams felt stalked and studied, as though Solas still wished to find what Brady was thinking or doing.

Those dreams stopped entirely after he was dismissed from the cathedral and were replaced with nightmares, or nothing at all, depending on how much he drank prior to passing out on a tavern bar stool or in his bed.

Vaughan reminded Brady of the injustice enacted against the elves, and reinforced his rationalization of Solas and his plans. He disagreed with the utter decimation of the world as he knew it, but he understood Solas' reasons- and could not distinguish if that made him feel better or worse.

Perhaps ignorance would be preferable, defaulting to striking down Solas to stop the horrors he wished to inflict upon the world. Instead, Brady was entangled with his own hope; hope that Solas would see this world- though flawed- has potential to be something greater, through the good in its people and the progressive minds that strived for change.

Brady blamed himself, more often than not, for Solas' view on the state of the world. He wished that he did more to show Solas the good present in mankind. It pained him to think that despite his altruistic acts and decisions during his time as the Inquisitor, it was not enough to change Solas' mind.

Brady still believed that he could save Solas and stop him from completing his mission against the world. He had saved Brady's life, and Brady was determined to return the favor, with or without support from anyone else.

The sunlight diminished inside of the library, with the night forcing the scholars to light the candles beside them, and palace servants igniting the gilded braziers attached to the stone walls. He watched beads of rain crawl down the tall and narrow stained glass windows, the tapping of rainfall became the only sound in the library. Brady closed the book in front of him and returned his stack of books to their place on the shelves.

He stepped out of the library, and down the quiet hallway. He was restless and shunned the idea of lying in bed, waiting for sleep. He reached the foyer, and saw the door that led to the records room, and gave in to his own curiosity.

He descended the staircase into the dark corridor. There was a single guard at the records room door, slumped and snoring in his chair. Brady stalked forward and slunk into the room, locking the door behind him.

He lit a candle and observed the shelves of documents organized in alphabetical order, letter by letter. Brady scanned the shelves and found the 'I' section. He thumbed through the leather backed folders until he found 'Inquisition.' He pulled the bulky folder off of the shelf and placed it on the desk in the center of the room. He placed his candle beside the folder and rummaged through its contents.

There was a dossier for every member of his inner circle, and information on inquisition agents from each branch. He found a collection of parchment entitled, 'Inquisition and its Leadership' in large letters on the front page.

He pulled the collection of parchment from the folder and thumbed through it. Information on the inquisition's military force, diplomacy, and espionage were detailed in the documents. He found intercepted letters meant to be seen by 'The Inquisitor,' but none contained valuable information. They consisted of letters of thanks from various individuals, death threats, and love letters from admirers; varying from sultry and sinful to humorous and innocent. He could not help himself but stifle a chuckle from the letters signed anonymous, with a lipstick stain where a seal would have been, still prominent on the page.

He continued combing through the pages and found a brief dossier on himself that read:

(See 'Trevelyan, Brady' for more information)

He huffed, and placed the "Inquisition" folder in its proper place on the shelf and shifted to the 'T' section. He found 'Trevelyan, Brady' and returned to the desk.

His folder was divided into sections: History, Character, Known Associates, 'The Mark,' Decisions Made and Possible Effects on Ferelden, Political Affiliations, and Weaknesses-subtitled 'In the event of Corruption or Risk to National Security.'

The history section outlined a timeline of his life, and a drawn branch of his family tree. 'Eleanor Brady' was listed as his maternal parent, with her status as a mage noted beside her name. He shuddered. Throughout his life, his father's relationship with his mother was hidden from everyone, including the Ostwick nobility- Both allied families and rivals.

He reasoned with himself, quelling his worries with the conclusion that Ferelden kept his true lineage and his status as a bastard a secret in case he ever propositioned a Fereldan woman of nobility to marriage, to which they would reveal his illegitimacy.

The history section concluded with his excommunication from the Chantry, and unknown current whereabouts. There was a note in the margins that suggested he returned to the Trevelyan Family Estate in Ostwick, but it remained uncertain.

The character section was in bullets, but he neglected to read it, in the off chance it would simply be a summarized, direct character assassination of who he was, as well as his rejection of a stranger's observations defining him.

The Known Associates section was the bulk of the folder. Everyone was listed, from Cassandra and Lady Mira to inquisition agents and politicians.

He read the observation of his relationship with Cassandra. The first entries consisted of disagreements on mage independence, and the possible disconnect due to contrasting opinions. Later entries noted the existence of their romance, with a note stating:

(Refers to her opinion on multiple occasions, see: Decisions, and Weaknesses)

Her ascent to the Sunburst Throne was stated as an effect of his personal support and the dissolution of their intimate relationship.

He grumbled, and shifted in his seat. He knew he was being watched closely by every nation in Thedas, but a shiver ran down his spine upon the discovery of how close they were all observing. He imagined there was a file on him in every nation, dissecting him in gross detail. He pushed the thought away, finding comfort in ignorance.

He sifted through pages on his inner circle, and stopped on observations of his relationship with his advisor, Leliana. It was only half a page, and read:

Teagan,

Infiltrating the inquisition is one thing, but spying on the spymaster- that is entirely different. Lady Nightingale is careful, too careful, if you ask me. Her conversations with the Inquisitor are almost entirely concealed behind closed doors. I am afraid of her… almost too afraid to even write this letter of disengagement. I am enacting the "well-being" clause, for reasons listed below:

- She will find me out, and end our flow of information to the Crown

- She is terrifyingly sweet at times, and downright intimidating, as well. (I do not know if this point justifies the enactment, but I feel though it should be said)

- Her agents are fiercely loyal. I have been welcomed as an outsider, but those referred in bird names (those named after birds of prey especially) would have my throat slit in my sleep if they were to discover my discretion. This would inevitably lead to the souring of relations between country and the Inquisition.

Please consider this.

- Terrier

He chuckled, and wondered if 'Terrier' ever had his request fulfilled. He breathed a sigh of relief. There was an exciting feeling that arose in him. Finding his life described in pages by complete strangers was unsettling, and he hated it. It made him wonder if the privacy of being alone was preferable to his time with the Inquisition.

Though, he felt a sense of pride in his relationship with Leliana. He credited being in love with his spymaster the cause, as their intimate details were never able to be scrawled by peering eyes onto a parchment to be shared and known by strangers. It felt as it should: secret, intimate. Their relationship and all its details were theirs and theirs alone, only to be shared if they wished.

He heard the doorknob clink, and his heart fell to his stomach. He shot up from the table and collected the folder in his arms, the parchment inside disheveled and sticking out of the corners as he rushed to return them to the shelf.

The door creaked open, and he relaxed as Leliana slipped into the room. She closed the door behind her and squinted her eyes at him, pointing a finger at the folder clutched to his chest.

"What are you doing?"

He returned to the table and reopened the folder. She crossed her arms and awaited an answer.

He shrugged, "Curiosity."

She circled the table and scoped through the collection of folders.

He twisted in his chair and watched her. "What about you?"

Leliana reached for a folder, "I always destroy mine," She pulled it from its place and sat across from Brady with a small smile. "It's become a little joke between me and Alistair's agents," she let out a laugh, "Perhaps not much of a joke to them."

She pulled out the parchment and ripped them down the middle. She slid his candle closer to her, and burned each piece. The pieces of parchment lit the room with spurts of orange each time she sacrificed them to the flame.

She continued to feed pieces of parchment to the flame, and placed a coy grin on her lips, directing it towards Brady.

"I don't suppose you are to thank for the cake and wine delivered to my door?"

He averted her eyes, looking down blindly at the words on the parchment. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

She narrowed her eyes, and watched the flames eat away at another piece of the parchment. "It was quite good. Slightly drier than usual."

He sucked on his teeth, "Someone probably worked really hard to make that."

"There's a chocolate stain on your collar," she mused, keeping her attention on the flame.

He looked down and saw a blotch of batter stained on his shirt. He licked his thumb and rubbed it against the stain. She chuckled, watching him from the corner of her eye. The stain spread, despite his efforts, and he gave up.

Leliana blew the ash from the parchment off of the table and wiped away any remnants with her hand. She picked up the emptied folder and returned it to the collection.

"Ever go through mine?"

"Oh no," she shook her head. "I have my own."

His mouth fell slightly jar, then he pushed his brows together with a snicker. "You jest."

"Sure."

He pursed his lips to the side and continued to read through the collection of parchment. Brady handed her the letter from 'Terrier.' She smiled curiously, sat back down at the table, and read through the short letter.

She hummed and returned it to him, "I wonder which closed doors."

"Me too," He said, his eyes staying on the parchment. "My quarters… the rookery… outside the rookery…"

She laughed, "The medical ward… the library… the balcony…"

He raised a brow, "…The war room…"

"The vault… that storage closet in the tavern."

He winced, "We don't bring up the storage closet."

"Oh, it has been long enough."

"No, it really hasn't."

He found 'Eleanor Brady' scrawled on top of a page.

"Well, well," He said with a sly grin, "Look what we have here."

He held the page up to Leliana. She squinted at the writing, then fell back into her seat.

He read through the page and his face scrunched. His eyes darted across the page, not taking his eyes off of the parchment. He stood up and paced, walking up to the collection of folders and pulling one off of the shelf.

Leliana leaned forward as he slammed the folder onto the table. She looked up at him and then down at his clenched hands. Her eyes darted onto the thick folder labelled, 'The Grey Wolf of Ghislain.'

"Brady…"

He ignored her, and flicked the folder open. He read through its contents, crinkling the parchment with each turn of the page. He stopped on a particular page, then twisted it towards Leliana.

She glimpsed down at the page, then released a breath. He tapped his finger against the parchment and stared down at her.

"You never bothered to tell me?"

She looked up to him and her breath hitched. Her lips parted, but she did not utter a word.

He shot up from the table and turned his back towards her. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, deep exhales blowing out of his nostrils. He pressed the palm of his hand between his brows.

"I can't believe this," He murmured. He looked over his shoulder to her. "All those times I- and you knew? How could you sleep at night? How could sleep next to me knowing-" his head fell as he let out an exasperated sigh.

"It was complicated. Maker, it still is."

He waved her off and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The guard at the door shot up and cursed at Brady, then settled back into his chair, shutting his eyes and mumbling his annoyance underneath his breath.

Brady rushed up the stairs and towards the palace exit. The palace guards stared at him storm through the palace with bewildered looks tainting their expressions as he passed by.

Leliana called out to him from behind, but her desperate calls fell on deaf ears. He pushed through the palace doors and walked into the courtyard. The rainfall soaked his face and clothes. He splashed through the puddles on the pathway toward the main gates and heard Leliana call his name again from the open palace doors.

Leliana hurried through the courtyard and caught his arm, stopping him. He averted his eyes away from hers and shuffled out of her grip. She deflated with an exhale, and placed a hand on the back of his neck, urging him to look down at her. He clenched his jaw and remained silent.

"You have every right to be angry."

A sharp laugh escaped from his chest.

Her voice wavered, "We can talk about this, let me explain-"

He brought his hand to her wrist with a gentle touch, sliding her hand away from him. They shared a gaze. He shook his head with a deep whimper and turned towards the exit.

The guards begrudgingly let him through. Leliana stood and watched him disappear from her sight.