They ran.

Blood was oozing from countless holes that dug into pulsing walls and low meaty ceiling, and even floor was corrupted and mostly deformed. Both Maxwell and Solas tried their best not to step into the disgusting mess, but there wasn't much time to watch out as creatures were following them, and they were following fast. The corridor seemed to be a death trap with no turns or doors, and thick red fog stood like a solid wall up ahead.

"Gaah!"

In his hurry the Herald stumbled upon a lump of flesh and would undoubtedly fall down if his hand didn't reach the floor first. With a soft sound it slipped right into one of the holes, met something in the shifting depth and crushed it with uncontrolled force. A warm, squishy movement under Maxwell's fingers made him yelp and yank his hand back.

Solas halted next to the man's shuddering form and grabbed his elbow, pulling him forward.

"No time," he breathed out.

The Herald gathered all his manly will to not throw up right there as his fingers were now covered in something filthy. He quickly followed the elf, rubbing his hand frantically against the fabric of his shirt.

Sounds from behind grew in volume, signaling the approach of the enemy. Constant and steady, they were rising from under numerous fleshy legs of giant meat spiders, and it would not be a problem if there were a few of them around, but there were hundreds crawling against all possible surfaces. Which wasn't the worst thing. The worst thing about it all was that Maxwell and Solas were about to lose the last of their strength, and the enemy didn't look tired at all. At this rate, the outcome would be quite painful.

Maxwell was devoured by fear and exhaustion, and he ran without looking back. So when something abrupt happened beside him and Solas' hold was suddenly lost, he was caught unaware.

"What the…"

He turned halfway to look at the elf, and what he saw made his heart drop. It was too late; Solas was surrounded by ugly creatures, lots of small spiders rushing to his legs and going up his skin with an incredible speed. Solas looked utterly disgusted and tried to shake them off.

"SOLAS! NO!"

The Herald reached out in an attempt to grab the elf's wrist, and there was a brief moment when he thought he'd manage to. But when Solas raised his hand to meet him, the nearby hole in the floor suddenly shifted and widened, swallowing the Herald whole. Everything went dark.

No! Please no!

Maxwell flew down in pitch black for a long time, wailing, and when he reached the floor, his hopes to survive crashed against it together with him. Only fear was left, and he lay where he landed, shuddering uncontrollably. Solas was dead. Soon he would be dead too.

And as if fate was laughing at him, a door opened nearby. Maxwell went completely still, praying to Maker that the intruder would lose interest and simply go away, but no matter how hard he tried to seem non-existent, his heartbeat and heavy breathing were pretty good indicators. He stirred quietly to calculate his options and found himself trapped by the floor. Fear grew wider.

It's going to find me… Maker, it's going to find me, and then I'm dead…

Small steps sounded like thunder. Maxwell gasped, his defense mechanism going berserk as soon as he realized someone was actually trying to reach him. He started to thrash around, legs kicking wildly, and by some miracle the Herald even managed to hit the stranger when he approached. With a gasp the intruder tumbled down to the floor.

"Hey, calm down!" A familiar voice ordered. "It's just me!"

Maxwell's body jerked, and he slowed down his frantic movements as his surroundings began to change. The temperature dropped, unnatural sounds disappeared, and the air felt cleaner and easier to breathe in. He moved again, and it turned out to be a much easier task.

Wait… I was… It's... wasn't I in a… Thoughts rushed about in his head, unable to find their proper places.

A long moment later the Herald's face appeared from under the blanket, his eyes still glassy and horrified, and his lips trembling. He didn't notice the visitor right away, despite looking straight at his direction.

Where am I…? A question rose among others.

"In your room, as usual," the voice answered. He'd asked aloud without noticing..? "Where else would you be?"

Maxwell blinked and looked around. He was sitting on the floor of his room, true, next to his bed, and the blanket was covering his thighs and waist. It had been a nightmare, yet again. The Herald straightened his back, and his eyes shot up, catching Varric into view.

"Hi," the dwarf said with a small smile, though it was somewhat strained. "Nightmare problem?"

"Yeah…" Maxwell nodded wearily, raising a hand to his face. "I was…"

His hand halted.

No. Can't talk to Varric about that.

"…seeing things," he finished. "Can't remember any of them now, but they sure were scary at the time."

"I see," Varric said, yet his expression suggested he didn't fully believe into that. The dwarf got back to his feet and shook the dust off his clothes. "Well, you should get more sleep. I've heard the Seeker is planning something for you this morning."

"I… what…?" Maxwell asked absently.

"As much as I'd love to share this with you, she'll-"

A loud thump interrupted the dwarf as the door flew open, revealing Solas at the entrance. The elf stood there with his chest heaving and eyes narrowed, but putting that aside, looked pretty much alive and healthy. He stepped into the room and folded his hands across his chest.

"I-" Maxwell started.

"What are you doing here?"

Eh?

It took a moment to understand that Solas was not addressing him. The elf's eyes landed not on him but on Varric, and they shared a long stare. The dwarf then beamed and pointed at Maxwell with a nod.

"Came to save a damsel in distress," he answered lightheartedly.

"What?" Solas frowned.

Varric sighed, shaking his head. 'Even you could get that one,' his eyes read clearly.

"He screamed in his sleep," the dwarf explained, and Maxwell coughed in embarrassment. "I happened to be nearby, so I decided to check up on him."

The elf nodded.

"I see." He approached Maxwell and sat beside him, pressing a hand to the Herald's forehead. Maxwell brought his knees to his chest, not certain what to do. "I'm here now, so you can go."

Silence followed, interrupted only by soft rustling as the blanket slid to the floor. The dwarf remained on his spot, his eyes locked on Maxwell's face. He'd probably stopped seeing the man's nightmare as a usual one as soon as Solas came in with all his attitude…Temperature checking aside, the elf slept far enough from Maxwell's room to miss the scream, and when he'd appeared to check up on the man's health, he was exhausted. Varric wasn't stupid, and judging by his hesitation to leave, he'd already made a chain out of rings.

The Herald appreciated the concern, he really did. But he also knew he wouldn't be able to talk to Solas about anything if Varric stayed. While the dwarf was a good friend, Maxwell believed it would be better to keep his problems to himself. So he tried to keep an easy face.

"Solas will keep an eye on me," he said softly. "You should get some sleep too, Varric. It's pretty late, right?"

"Well… I guess so…" The dwarf said reluctantly. "But are you sure you want me gone?"

'Want me gone.' He saw through that, then.

"Don't say it like that," Maxwell made a face. "I'm fine, and I have a healer with me. What can go wrong?"

The dwarf shrugged.

"Have a good night," the Herald pushed. "Come talk to me tomorrow after Cassandra finishes with me, yeah? I'm sure it will be something to joke about."

"Yeah," Varric smiled. That didn't look like a real smile, but at this point even a fake one would do. "Good night, then."

With that he finally left, leaving Maxwell alone with the elf. By the time the door closed, Solas had already finished with the check up and was now resting in the armchair with a thoughtful expression. Maxwell moved to the bed and lay down, exhaustion worming its way through his body now that things were settled.

"I'm sorry about what happened," he said, barely audible.

Solas looked up.

"I was not in any danger," he answered simply.

"But there were all these spiders…" Maxwell objected. They had looked like a big danger to him. The chase had been a long one, and it had a purpose, right? "How can you-"

"Don't." The elf raised his hand. "We have a more important matter at the moment."

Maxwell closed his mouth obediently: he couldn't argue with that. Tonight was the first time a nightmare managed to separate them; before, no matter how scary or difficult things may have been, he and Solas had always managed to stay together, even if Maxwell 'almost died' in the end. But not this time. Did that mean they were getting weaker? And what could be trying to separate them if there was no Envy anymore?

"Do you feel anything new in you?" Solas asked, clasping his fingers together.

"Uh… I'm not sure… Let me see…"

The Herald looked down at his crossed legs in concentration. He was still feeling down because of the chase, and his body was exhausted from continuous insomnia, but other than that everything seemed to be in order. No arguing with himself, no seeing things that didn't exist, no anger, nothing. Even the mark was pulsing steadily as if trying to support him.

"No, nothing has changed, I think," he said after a while. "That's good right?"

Solas rubbed his chin with his long fingers.

"We yet have to learn about that," he answered.

"Yeah…"

The elf didn't rush to speak further, and Maxwell was so used to his presence already that he let himself turn to the wall, pondering. When his thoughts returned to the chase- no, even before that, if he looked back at all the nightmares he'd seen, he found himself wondering if he'd made a mistake by simply enduring them. Maxwell had been able to become a skilled warrior only after overcoming a great deal of obstacles, and he knew nothing came without a price. So maybe this was no different? Maybe he had to stop depending on Solas entirely and try doing something himself? Surely there was something out there that would make him mentally stronger.

"Solas," he called quietly, not turning back.

"What is it?" The elf asked.

"Do you think there is a way to make me stronger?" The Herald wondered. "That would make it easier to fight with my illness…"

Solas kept silent for a long time. Maxwell was already thinking about asking again by the time the elf actually answered.

"The nature of your illness is not an ordinary one. While I think there may be a way to improve your will and mind, I am not sure it will not affect your sanity."

Maxwell shifted until he was facing Solas again.

"There is a way?" He asked, his voice nervous but excited.

"Yes," the elf nodded. "I wouldn't be so hopeful, however. It implies the usage of a dangerous power, and no one knows how you will react to it, considering your state."

"Oh…"

Hope didn't die, but it became weaker. Maxwell sat up and hugged his knees, putting his chin on top of them. A dangerous power sounded… well, dangerous. On the other hand, it wasn't like he had much of a choice anyway; Maker knew how much time would pass before Solas was unable to help, and then everything would be lost. Saying no to the power would only be wise if a better option existed, but both the Herald and the elf knew that wasn't true.

"What is the power you're talking about?" Maxwell asked, and hoped to gods he wouldn't regret this.

Solas pressed back into the armchair, pressing the tips of his fingers together.

"You already know what it is," he said. "Your family had been using it for a very long time."

"My fa-"

Templars. He is talking about lyrium.

Maxwell trailed off and frowned. Sad memories of being forced into becoming a templar suddenly appeared before his eyes, and he'd expected panic to rise from the depths of his consciousness, but somehow that didn't happen. There was only bitter amusement: he'd done so much to escape that fate, and it just came back to stab him while he wasn't looking.

"You're saying I have to become a templar?" The Herald asked.

"I am saying that lyrium can make you stronger," the elf answered. "But we do not know the origin of your illness, so it can break the remains of your resistance to it as successfully. As to the means of getting it, the concern is yours."

Lyrium. He'd heard about lyrium. Had seen both his father and brother taking it. As far as he knew, it helped to resist and dispel magic, and every templar had to use it in order to guard or confront the mages successfully. That looked like a reasonable option in his situation: both visions and nightmares appeared after the encounter with the Elder One, and it was highly possible they were a result of a magic spell.

"So lyrium can make things easier?" Maxwell asked.

"Possibly."

"Then why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because I didn't want to turn to it at all," Solas sighed. "Until today. We got separated. It is not a good sign."

"Yeah, I figured," the Herald muttered. So he had been right. Nightmares had managed to make him weaker…

"Others are looking for a way," the elf continued, "but they won't find it. If there had been a proper cure, I would have already found it. Every suitable medicine there is, all of it has already been used."

"I see."

That's it, then. I'll have to become a templar. Easy.

Maxwell groaned. The day had not even started yet, and he'd already found out he'd have to begin the templar training, fallen Order or no. Solas did imply that it wasn't necessary to become a templar in order to take lyrium, but while in theory that looked acceptable, the Herald doubted it would be that easy to realize. The advisors were managing the Inquisition, and even if Cassandra agreed to help him get lyrium without raising much noise, they still would find out sooner or later, especially with Leliana's agents lurking all over the place. And he then he'd have to explain. No, becoming a templar would be a wiser choice.

"Okay, let's try that," Maxwell said. "I've been through the Fade and the attack on Haven. Maker, I even lived through Cassandra's fury! I can manage some lyrium just fine."

The elf nodded.

"Very well."


Cassandra came the next morning, looking rather determined. A week had passed since the Herald's nose got broken and fixed, and now he was good enough to go outside again. At least that's what the Seeker's eyes seemed to saying as she smiled, standing at his doorstep.

"Today is an important day," she said.

"Good morning," Solas greeted her from the armchair, and the woman flinched. She obviously hadn't expected to see him so soon.

"Uuuughhh…" Maxwell tried to hide his head under the blanket. The past few hours had been spent in another round of recovery spells; this time the elf took twice as much time as before, and he hadn't let the Herald sleep while he'd been casting. Maxwell had been allowed to doze off later, but he never got deep into slumber. That was probably why Cassandra sounded so loud right now.

"I want to sleep," he muttered. "Just give me another week…"

There was no answer for a while, and the Herald decided to use it to his advantage. His fingers gripped the pillow tightly, and he pressed it to his head from above, blocking the annoying sounds from the courtyard. His consciousness began to drift away once again, body surrounded by welcoming warmth of his comfortable bed, and he sighed in relief-

"WHAT?!"

Maxwell jumped up from the bed, startled.

"I just want to sleep!" He answered loudly, feeling utterly offended, and then realized that the Seeker wasn't even looking at him. She was focused on Solas instead.

"Please, keep quiet. That is not a public matter," the elf said calmly. His lack of reaction seemed to affect Cassandra as she coughed, trying to calm down. Then her eyes shot to the side, landing on Maxwell. He gulped.

This is not good…

"You," she said, taking steps towards him. As soon as Cassandra was close enough to talk without being loud, she continued: "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"It depends on what you're talking ab- oh. That," he understood, recalling the events of the night. "No, I'm not sure at all. But it's not like I have other options here."

Cassandra watched him with a frustrated expression, all previous content erased from her face. Maxwell wondered why she was behaving like this; hadn't she gone through a similar training once? It didn't make any sense as to why she would be against him doing the same.

"You do not need to worry yet," Solas said. "His will is strong, and he is not struggling alone."

The Seeker looked over her shoulder.

"Are you sure? I do understand that the illness is getting worse, but that means he will need a faster training! The Herald is already weak, and this might make it even worse..."

No. That won't do.

"Hey, look at me," Maxwell said, putting a hand on her shoulder. Cassandra looked at him, still uncertain, and he had to smile to erase that. "Don't worry. We've got it under control. I promise."

The Seeker sighed.

"…okay. I will arrange that," she finally agreed. "But if something goes wrong, you will tell me, is that clear?"

The Herald chuckled. First Varric, now Cassandra; he had no idea why people suddenly started to care about him so much, but it would be a lie if he said he found it unpleasant.

"Yeah," he said aloud and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. That seemed to work, and the tension somewhat lifted.

"Well, then," the Seeker said. "You have surprised me this morning, Herald. It is my turn to surprise you next".

"What is it?" Maxwell frowned.

"Come with me," she said and stepped towards the exit. "Oh, and put something on."

"Eh?" He blinked and looked down. Clothes. Of course. "Ah, right. Hold on."

The Herald came to the dresser and bent to pick a change of clothes. A cough rose immediately from behind, making him straighten up and look back. Cassandra was facing the door now, and Solas looked him in the face with a serious expression.

I should have told her to turn away, Maxwell guessed. Well, it's not like she'd never seen me in my underwear, anyway…

"Ready," he said after a couple of minutes. "Let's go."

"Yes," Cassandra said. There was not even a shadow of embarrassment on her face now. As soon as they reached the door, she beckoned Solas. "Come with us."

The Seeker didn't need to repeat; Solas stood up silently and followed them into the courtyard.

As soon as they got outside, Maxwell had to cover his eyes because the sun was so bright it hurt them. Cassandra gave him a moment to recover and then continued walking, not bothering to talk yet. She kept quiet for some time, and that gave the Herald an opportunity to look around: the courtyard hadn't changed much, yet for some reason there were a lot more people moving around today. He spotted Bull and Sera at the entrance to the tavern but didn't raise his voice to call them as it looked like they were busy arguing. A few seconds later both stepped into the building and disappeared from his view.

"I had a speech prepared," the Seeker suddenly stopped, and Maxwell's attention clung to her instead. They halted at the beginning of the steps that led to the castle, and Cassandra raised her head to look at it. "About how you managed to come all this way and helped to seal the Breach and heal the sky." Her eyes returned to the Herald. "Surely you realize by now that you possess traits and skills that allowed you to survive and reach our goal?"

Where is she going with this…?

Maxwell hadn't expected her to start praising him so openly all of a sudden. It had never happened before, and knowing that only made him feel more nervous. But then again, he'd just decided to become a templar. What could ever beat that?

"Well, I would have died if I had tried to do that alone. In the snow field, during the enemy attack, even before that," he answered. "I would have been long gone if the Inquisition hadn't been there."

"This is why I decided not to bother with the speech," Cassandra said and nodded at the stairway. "Let's go."

They went up the stairs, and as soon as they reached the top, Maxwell spotted sister Leliana standing there with a long sword resting on her hands. Birds chirped happily, jumping at her feet.

Wait a minute…

He turned abruptly to the Seeker.

"Are you saying that-"

"The Inquisition requires a leader," Cassandra nodded. "And you have proven that you can do it perfectly."

Maker!

Maxwell felt his jaw drop. That's it, only a few minutes ago he'd been completely sure that becoming a templar would be the event of the year. Now he wasn't so sure… Making him the Inquisitor though, what was the Seeker thinking?

Maxwell glanced over his shoulder at Solas and saw him watching the ground. It seemed like he had already accepted the turn of events, and he didn't look displeased.

"Did you know?" Maxwell asked him quietly.

The elf looked up.

"Yes."

"I see…" The Herald turned back to the women. "But doesn't my illness worry you? I mean, if it gets worse, I…"

The Seeker raised her hand, asking him to be quiet.

"No, it won't get worse," she said. "We have a way out. And do not expect everything to fall on your shoulders; technically, not much will be changed. But… you will get a much larger room to sleep in if you agree."

"I… oh."

A larger room. He had to accept this position.

However…

"Everyone agreed to this?" He asked, wondering if Cassandra would understand who he was talking about.

The Seeker's sigh was almost imperceptible, but it told him she did understand.

"I will not lie to you," she answered. "Handing this power to anyone is troubling. But come closer to the edge and take a look down."

"Hm?" Absent-mindedly, Maxwell did as she asked. And froze. There were people below - a whole horde of them standing down in the courtyard and looking right into his face. The Herald swallowed, trying to put his thoughts in order; that he had not expected. Even his companions were standing among the others, Iron Bull and Sera included- wait, why were they standing there? Hadn't they just walked into the tavern?

"I…" The Herald mumbled.

The Spymaster took the man's surprise to her advantage and placed the sword into his obedient hand. Maxwell squeezed the hilt without noticing.

"People have seen your doings," Cassandra meanwhile continued, her words going right into his heart. "They believe in you. And so do I. For better or worse – we still have to learn. But I want you to know that this decision feels right."

Still shocked, Maxwell opened his mouth and closed it, unable to answer. He'd never expected such a day to come. He'd never thought he'd become a man whom the Inquisition would desire to follow. Yet there it was: so many people were standing below him with hope and recognition in their eyes. So many chose him as their leader. It made him feel…

Powerful.

The Herald cleared his throat, suddenly thirsty.

"I…" He licked his dry lips and managed to tear his stare from the crowd, turning to face Cassandra again. "I want to… I want to do it. I want to lead the Inquisition."

The Seeker smiled.

"Then it is yours. How it will serve, how you lead: that must be yours to decide."

Yes. I will decide. I will lead it.

Maxwell smiled, walked up to the edge again and raised his sword. The movement was sharp and forceful, and it felt like he'd cut the air. Cassandra stepped beside him and shouted:

"Have our people been told?"

"They have," Josephine's voice rose from below, and somehow knowing that she was standing there as well made Maxwell even more content. "And soon the world."

The Herald looked down again, following the woman's voice but failing to find her in the crowd.

"Commander, will they follow?" The Seeker asked loudly.

The fingers on the hilt twitched and squeezed it stronger. Maxwell opened his eyes for real this time, his searching becoming much, much quicker.

Cullen is here, a hopeful thought flickered in front of the Herald's mind. He came to support me? He must have… He…

Then Maxwell saw the Commander. The man was standing next to Josephine in the courtyard, and both were looking at him. But while the Ambassador's face shone with joy and happiness, Cullen looked…

Oh no… He hates me.

Maxwell breathed out as a long, invisible needle slowly pierced through his chest. He'd known the Commander for quite a long time, had trained with him, went through troubles with him, argued with him, even kissed him once… but he had never seen him wear such a face. The Commander's eyes were cold and showed nothing but well-controlled anger, and his hands were folded defensively across his chest.

As soon as Cassandra asked her question, however, both his face and posture miraculously changed. If Maxwell hadn't seen him before she did that, he'd never guess what Cullen was thinking.

The Commander turned to the people, who had enough sense to give him some space, and asked them as loudly:

"Inquisition! Will you follow?"

Shouts rose, everyone giving their firm approval.

"Will you fight?" Cullen continued, pacing in front of them. Maxwell found himself hypnotized, following his every step.

"Will we triumph?!" The Commander shouted, and the crowd emitted an entire storm of support, raising their hands up. Their voices reached the Herald, and he fell into the depth of his emotions, closing his eyes.

I will lead the Inquisition. With our friendship or without it.

"Your leader! Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!"

Bathing in the feeling of being chosen, Maxwell raised the sword even higher. It reflected the sun rays and then dulled as the celestial light disappeared behind a heavy cloud. Thunder roared far away, and cold wind blew in the Herald's back, but he didn't shiver.

When Maxwell opened his eyes again, he saw red leaking down the walls of the fortress, and it was beautiful.


His nose didn't hurt anymore. Looking in the mirror, Maxwell couldn't see anything weird about his face at all, and he wished the memory of getting hit would erase as simply. He wished the hit hadn't happened at all…

He sighed, averting his eyes from the mirror. If Maxwell had known the Commander was staying in that tower, he'd do anything to avoid going there. How unlucky he had been to enter that very place at that very time.

So many people in Skyhold, so many places… And I ended up meeting him.

Outside, the rain became weaker.

Maxwell grabbed the mirror and tucked it into the bag. It was the last item to take to the room that belonged to him now that he'd become the Inquisitor. Cassandra had asked if he needed help, but Maxwell ended up refusing: if anyone saw him right now, their confidence in allowing him to lead the Inquisition would break into pieces.

The Herald didn't know what to do. One part of him whispered words of loneliness, but the other wanted to try fixing things once more. Only he was scared he'd lose his temper again. In that case Cullen wouldn't probably hold back and just bring him back to Solas dead.

After all that had happened, was there still a way to make things right?

With an utterly lost face, Maxwell closed the bag.

There wasn't anything important left in this small room anymore, but he still looked it over.

I hope I won't miss this place… He thought grimly, turning to the door. As soon as he approached it, however, someone pounded on it from the other side.

"Huh…?"

The Herald stopped, taken aback. It was pretty late already, and he didn't expect anyone to come visit. Not to mention it was still raining outside.

The noise from behind the door rose again: someone was desperate to get in.

"Open up!" A muffled order came, and the Herald froze on his spot.

It can't be. You can't be the one standing there.

That brought back memories, except that the Commander sounded furious, and Maxwell wasn't sure he'd be able to escape a full fight this time. He fidgeted and let go of the bag.

"What do you want?" He asked loudly.

"Just open the goddamn door," Cullen snarled from outside.

Maxwell pushed the bag away with his foot. Opening the door wasn't in any way appealing, but he doubted he had a choice here. The Herald got the handle, pushed the latch back and stepped away just in case. When the door opened, he saw the Commander wet, shivering and angry.

"Why are you-" The Herald started.

"Call it off," Cullen interrupted him.

"What?!"

The Commander shut the door with a loud thud and moved into the room, leaving the shocked Herald behind. He then took off his wet overcoat and dropped it on the chair, and soon a small pool of water appeared under it on the floor.

"I said, you have to call it off," Cullen repeated, looking at the man again. "Your decision, that is."

"What?!" Maxwell repeated, feeling his jaw drop for the second time this day. "What on Thedas are you talking about?"

"About you becoming a templar," the Commander said, stepping closer. "It is the worst idea you could get."

"Why?" Despite having Cullen far enough, Maxwell still moved back and only stopped when his back hit the door. "I don't have any choice-"

"Yes, you do," Cullen interrupted him again. He was still raging, but at least didn't try to attack so far. "I know you're having nightmares and all that, but becoming a templar won't help you. It never helps anyone."

"I don't…" The Herald trailed off. This day had given him too many surprises already, and he was getting tired of it. Of course, Cullen had to know nothing about the details of his illness; only Solas and Cassandra had a general idea, and only Solas and Cole knew about the demon's disappearance. The Commander probably thought it was still in Maxwell's head and was causing all the nightmares… But even if so, didn't he think lyrium would help clear things up? And wasn't Cassandra acting the same? Hadn't she been against him becoming a templar as well?

Maxwell tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Listen… I don't know why you are against me becoming a templar, but I want you to at least consider that I have no alternative."

The Commander had already opened his mouth to say something back, but no answer followed. He frowned, and some of his rage gradually lifted, giving space to thinking. It seemed like there was no fight about to happen, so Maxwell took courage to move to the bed and sat down on its edge. He was overwhelmingly tired and didn't understand a single thing anymore.

"Am I missing something?" Cullen asked quietly after a long moment, and it was both surprising and relieving to see him trying to understand again. But that didn't mean Maxwell was ready to open up.

"Probably," he avoided the question. "Why bother, anyway? We're not exactly friends."

"No, we aren't," the Commander agreed, and it hurt. Deep inside the Herald had hoped he would deny that. "But I still care about you. And if I can do anything to prevent you from taking lyrium, I won't stop."

Lyrium again.

"Just why are you so against it? A lot of templars take lyrium, and they are fine!" Maxwell exclaimed, starting to get annoyed already.

"No, they aren't!" Cullen objected. "Haven't you asked about what happened in Therinfal Redoubt? Or did you just fall unconscious at the end and then leave it at that?"

"I…"

Maxwell fell silent. Back then he hadn't thought it was important. He knew that the Lord Seeker had been devoured by Envy and then defeated, and he knew they'd managed to lead the remaining templars to the Inquisition. Beyond that, was there something he should have asked about?

If there was, why hadn't Cassandra told him? Why hadn't anyone?

Cullen sighed, and it seemed he got his answer from the Herald's silence. The Commander moved closer and settled next to Maxwell on the bed; the movement was careful and quiet, and both of them sat there for some time without talking.

"You know I am a former templar, right? Everyone knows that." Cullen was first to talk.

"Yeah, I know that," Maxwell nodded. Now that he was thinking about it, why did the Commander stop being one?

"Lyrium is essential for a templar, it grants us our abilities," the man continued. "But… it controls us as well. Those cut off suffer. Some go mad, others die."

"I've heard about it, being in a templar family and all," the Herald shrugged. "It's not like I will stop taking lyrium if I become a templar."

Cullen hid his face in his hands, groaning.

"You have a demon trapped inside you. Do you really think you can fight with it using lyrium? Why not ask a mage to get it out?"

"About that…" Maxwell managed a quick glance at the Commander's face and then looked back at the floor. It was getting darker outside, and if there was no lamp in the room, he wouldn't be able to see anything. "There is no demon anymore."

Despite facing the stony surface under their feet, Maxwell was sure Cullen was looking at him now. He could almost feel the stare on his skin.

"What?"

"You heard me," the Herald said. "It's gone. Corypheus took it away. I'd tell you sooner, but we were having… problems, so to say."

"But… If it's not a demon, what are you suffering from?" Cullen asked.

"Nightmares, mostly," Maxwell said, and he wanted to leave it at that, but for some reason his mouth opened again and he started talking. "I also see things that aren't there. Like blood, remember? Saw it today too. A lot of it. And there is also anger."

The Commander was listening to him closely, and the man continued, now too far in it to stop.

"Like I can't control myself. I get furious over spilled tea. I'm raging when my socks get lost. And you don't even want to know about my mornings."

There was a moment of silence, and Maxwell bit his lip, thoughtful.

"So when I bumped into you that day…" He started, not certain he should have done that. The blanket shifted under his fingers: the Commander probably tried to move away just in case. "I couldn't really control myself. I was angry with you. I was so angry you didn't come to see me when I needed you so much."

Cullen cleared his throat quietly.

"So… does that mean that you…"

"I've lost almost everything and everyone I have ever had," Maxwell started answering even before the question was finished. "My sister, my family, my home… I didn't want to lose our friendship. But guess what, I kissed you. Such a wise move."

"Yeah…" the Commander said.

"I didn't mean to do it," the Herald assured him. "Anyway… Solas said there is no cure for my illness except for lyrium, since the origin seems to be born from magic. It is my only choice, and if I don't start taking lyrium soon, the nightmares may kill me for real."

Cullen didn't answer for a while, obviously thinking.

"Well, If there is no other way…"

Maxwell blinked and finally forced himself to look Cullen in the face again. They were staring at each other now, and there was no anger in the Commander's eyes. And somehow that made the Herald desperate.

"I…" Maxwell gulped nervously. "If there is any chance you can forgive me… If there is still hope for us to become friends again…"

"You want me to support you?" The Commander asked with a carefully neutral expression.

"If that is possible," the Herald mumbled. It was becoming way too hard to keep looking at Cullen, but he struggled. "I still see you as my friend. I don't want to lose you."

Thunder roared somewhere, rain crashing dully against the ground. The world outside was dark, and a single lamp was saving the room from disappearing as well. Soft light touched Cullen's face, not only making it look warmer but also showing that he was completely exhausted.

The Commander smiled.


Hey there, sorry for the delay. In my defence I can say that this chapter was very difficult to write.