Everything felt wrong. It felt as though everything she knew of herself, of the world was different now. This Herald they were calling her. That wasn't her. She had turned her back on the Chantry, on Andraste long ago. How could she be chosen by someone she no longer believed in? But now she was here, she had lived, they say she had been saved by Andraste herself. Somehow she had been sent out of the fade. She couldn't remember how she escaped the blast, and she didn't know why, Laurel only knew she did. Perhaps this was a second chance. Maybe she had been sent to atone for her sins, to make herself worthy of being at the Maker's side. She had come that day intent on murder. Intent on killing any mage that got in her way. Now they were dead and she had lived. Peace had certainly not been granted to her. She knew now that she had made a mistake. She thought back, thinking of the lives she had taken that day at the Ostwick circle in her grief. Why had she thought their lives were less valuable than her brother's? Because they were mages? Their deaths could in no way make up for his.

She stood now in Haven's Chantry, the first time she had been here on reason of faith in a very long time. It was odd now that this was the place she had turned to, after having turned away for so long before. But now she had been given a second chance at finding real faith, not something forced upon her by duty or tradition.

Laurel could remember being in the fade, but barely. It felt like her memories were taken from her or that her mind had blocked them from her. Laurel couldn't remember what had happened to her, but she could feel it. A deep fear nagging at her mind when she tried to close her eyes to rest. She was almost afraid to enter the fade again, even if only in a dream. Each night she had come to the Chantry, hoping to find some comfort or peace, at least some solace. For some reason it was easier at night. The light of the candles helped soften the look of the place, and there were less people here. She would come just after the midnight service, when but a few would be roaming the chapel.

It had been three days since she had awoken to find the breach still in the sky. Their first attempt to seal it had failed. And in those three days she had not yet found sleep. Tomorrow she would meet with the Inquisition's advisors. They would be discussing some sort of plan and it involved her. She looked down at her hand, at the mark now spread across her palm. The only reason they had allowed her to live at first was because of this. She remembered a verse from the Chant. For no mortal may walk bodily In the realm of dreams, Bearing the mark of their Crime. They said she had walked out of the fade. Was that why she was now marked? A punishment for her crimes, or was it truly a blessing from Andraste? Was it a mark of her sins or a mark of her worth? Whatever it was, it was now the only hope for stopping what was happening in the sky. And it had to be the reason she was the only one to survive.

She raised her head, turning her gaze toward the marble statue of Andraste surrounded by candles. She looked at the prophet, searching for answers. Wondering why her? Why now? Why like this? She knew she wouldn't find her answers today. Maybe if she could sleep she could remember. Or maybe she wasn't supposed to remember, maybe remembering would just make it harder to move forward. She decided she couldn't look back anymore, she just needed to have faith that all of this had happened for a reason and that a new path had been chosen for her. No, not chosen for her. Laid before her. The choice to follow it was hers. She was a Marcher. She determined her own destiny.

Laurel rose from her knees and turned to look at her surroundings. Every other day she had kept her focus on the altar, but Haven's Chantry served as much more than just a religious sanctuary. It was now the Inquisition's base of operations. There were offices, quarters, and then there was the war room. She had been in it only once, when she officially met the Inquisition's leaders. There was Cassandra, the seeker who had started this whole inquisition business. She was the first person she had met after the blast that destroyed the temple. Thankfully first impressions were not lasting in this case and she had been given a second chance by the seeker. Laurel again had the mark to thank for that.

Then there was the red head, the spymaster Leliana. She was frightening to say the least. If it served her she would stab you in the back or the front, whatever it took. And she moved so effortlessly and elegantly, you would never see her coming. She was in the room when she woke from the nightmare too. Had seen her weak and in chains, a feeling that made her quite uneasy and resentful.

There was also an Antivan woman whose name she couldn't remember, but she knew her surname had sounded familiar at the time. Some sort of nobility. She was ever so proper, serving in her perfect role of ambassador. She seemed like the sort to quite enjoy the snobbish dance that nobles liked to play with each other. She always stood perfectly straight, kept every hair in place, and held her clipboard close.

And there was the Inquisition's Commander. His name had escaped her too. He made her quite nervous. She wasn't sure if it was because of the title or something else. She had been a soldier and was almost promoted to warrant officer before she left, high ranking officers always made her jump a little. He had been a Templar like her brother before the mage rebellions. He stood tall and confident like a soldier and he was quite young to be a Commander. Close to her age she guessed but battle worn, with scars peeking from under his armor and splitting one side of his upper lip. Usually scars made people look worse, but something about his made him seem that much more attractive. His mouth had lifted on just that side when he had smiled briefly when their eyes caught before. He was admittedly handsome, she couldn't deny that. And the slight rasp of his voice was rather soothing.

She reached up to touch her own scar spread across the left side of her forehead and ran her fingers across another under her chin, trying to remember where she had earned the cuts. She wondered how battle worn it made her seem, if they affected her attractiveness in any way. She used to be a beauty, but it had been a long time since she had looked in a mirror and really examined herself in that way. She didn't know anymore. She still received attention, but for some men it didn't take much to cause them to advance. She shook her head at herself, laughing at the silliness of worrying if she was pretty enough. This was definitely not the time to be concerned with such things. She wasn't 18 and carefree anymore. 10 years had passed and those years had been long and wearing. It was surprising what could happen to a person in 10 years' time.

She shook, freeing herself from such thoughts. She looked to the door in the back again, sitting dead center on the very back wall. She was being drawn toward it, her feet moving toward it before she really knew what they were doing. There it is, she thought. The war room. Laurel wasn't quite sure she liked the sound of it. War. She'd never really fought in a full blown war. She had seen battle, been in combat, watched from the outside as a city burned, but a war? Had it really come to that? The mages and Templars had always been at odds, but now they meant to involve all of Thedas. And she suddenly found herself right at the center of the conflict. This thing on her hand thrusting her to the heart of it.

She looked at it, convinced it had to be the work of mages. Who else could do something like this? Who else could do something so deranged as to put a hole in the sky to let the monsters in? She clamped her eyes shut, shaking the thoughts from her mind. No! She couldn't think like that anymore. It wasn't fair to blame the mages. They were men and women just like any other. All men were capable of extremes, great compassion and empathy but also great evil. Magical talent didn't suddenly make them all corrupt. She had seen enough corruption in normal men, even within her own family. Her father in particular.

Laurel stood in front of the door to the room now and reached for the handle deciding to try it. It was locked. She fiddled with the latch for a moment, taking only a few seconds to pick it. She slowly inched the door shut behind her and made sure it clicked quietly. She had the distinct feeling that maybe she shouldn't be in here sneaking around, but it didn't dissuade her any. The room was lit slightly by moonlight, it was enough to see so she didn't dare light a candle and alert anyone of her presence. She wasn't really sure if they trusted her yet, especially around this much information.

In the middle of the room sat the war table, with a large map of Thedas spread across its surface. She approached it slowly, peeking over the table's edge seeing the entire known world laying before her. She could see her home land, the Free Marches. To its northeast was Nevarra. Antiva and Tevinter to the north. Orlais and the Anderfels to the east. And south, where there were now, laid Fereldan. Metal markers and figures were spread over the map, she wasn't exactly sure what they were for. If each one represented a rift she was supposed to close, she had a lot of work ahead of her. It was overwhelming. She had never been responsible for such a large task. She hung her head and let out an exasperated sigh. She shook her head and swore. "Fuck."

The door behind her swung open with a metal screech, causing her to gasp. She turned to see someone standing in the doorway, their face lit by a candle they held in their hand. It was the Commander. "Forgive me. I…didn't mean to startle you, Herald. I didn't know anyone was in here. Is…everything alright?"

She turned back to the table, leaning on it trying to catch her breath. She chuckled at herself under her breath while holding her chest. The Commander walked to the other side of the table, lighting candles around the room as he moved past each candelabrum. "I apologize, I know I shouldn't be in here."

"And what makes you say that?" he questioned.

"Perhaps because the door was locked," she admitted.

His voice was low as he chuckled. "I won't ask how you got inside then." He stopped behind the table across from her and stood with his hands resting on the hilt of his sword. "You should have access, I'll make sure you're given a key in the morning."

She looked up sheepishly smiling. "Thank you." She was embarrassed, but she had to know his name. "Commander, forgive me, but it's been a very long few days and I haven't quite gained my senses. I missed your name at our introduction."

He placed his hand on the back of his neck, look away almost as if he were nervous. "It's Commander Cullen...or Rutherford if you prefer more formal address. Ah, should I call you Lady Trevelyan, or...?"

She laughed with a head shake. "No that won't be necessary, Commander Cullen."

He looked relieved and laughed a little at himself. "Apologies. I don't deal with very many nobles, I wasn't sure what was expected."

She shrugged her shoulders. "No matter, I've been away from court for the better part of the last decade. I'm beyond forged politeness and formality. I find it rather exhausting actually, though I do try when it is required."

"I suppose I should have guessed that when I walked in on you swearing," he said with a small laugh.

Her mouth gaped open in surprised as she blushed. "You heard that? Well…damn! I guess that really isn't very lady like. You caught me, I have the mouth of a fishwife."

He stood there with his arms crossed. "You were in the military, weren't you? It can tend to do that sort of thing. Or so I hear."

"I was...for almost 7 years," she sighed. "I wish I could say that's the reason I have such a foul mouth, but I'm afraid I've always been like that. The army just taught me a few new colorful words to say."

He chuckled. "You were an officer? I'm sure your troops trembled at your vocabulary."

She pressed her lips together. "No actually, I enlisted."

"Oh, I just assumed since you had a title. I didn't think they let…"

She interrupted suddenly. "I lied about it. Got myself in quite a bit of trouble. My career ended because I hid it. I lied on the application because I didn't want to be an officer. I didn't want to deal with the politics and all the other shit that comes with having a title," she said with a tinge of bitterness.

"There are worse things than having a title. But… I think I take your meaning," he nodded.

She'd made it awkward again, as it weren't already awkward enough between them. "Forgive me, I probably sound like an ungrateful brat. I did have a privileged upbringing, I should be thankful. I never wanted for anything." That wasn't entirely true. She had wanted for nothing money could buy anyway. A bit of affection from her parents would have been worth more than any coin.

He changed the subject clearing his throat. "Ah, so...what brings you to here at such a late hour? Planning world domination on your own?"

She blew a short laugh from her nose and smiled. "I couldn't sleep. I haven't slept for… days. I keep coming to the Chantry hoping to calm my nerves, but it hasn't worked yet. I sort of just wandered over to the war room tonight." she admitted. "I could ask you the same thing," she said lifting her eyebrows.

"I had trouble finding sleep as well," he rasped as he scratch the back of his neck. "I thought I could finish reading a few reports from Sister Leliana's scouts."

She lifted some parchments and threw them in front of him. "If you want to be bored off to sleep you should try reading some of these reports from the ambassador. Lots of big long titles with names I can't even begin to pronounce. Not very riveting material, trust me I tried."

He chuckled low. "Of that I have no doubt. How many days exactly since you've slept?"

"Well, this is the 3rd night I've ended up in the Chantry instead of my bed." She stared down blankly, thinking. "I...I just suppose I'm afraid to close my eyes, to go to the fade again. I feel like I'm going to go mad," she said looking up at him. He was looking down at her and their eyes locked for a moment, both were quick to look away. Laurel lost her breath for just a moment. Why was he so easy to spill her secrets to? She had told him more in the last few minutes than she had told anyone since arriving at Haven. Perhaps it was their similar backgrounds. He was a military man and there was always a certain understanding when you came across a fellow soldier.

Commander Cullen cleared his throat. "I...I know what that's like. I've had many sleepless nights myself. If you're interested I have a bit of a secret cure I've used from time to time. I'd be willing to share it with you. I don't like to use it often, but sometimes I find it necessary."

"What sort of cure is this secret of yours?" she questioned him squinting her eyes curiously.

"I'll show you." He led her out of the war room and he stepped into his quarters that laid just to the left. She waited outside the door as he fetched something from inside. He came out and stood in the doorway, pouring a bottle into a small flask. "It's a very strong dwarven wine, mixed with a just bit of blood lotus. It does the trick every time," he said handing her the flask. He turned around placing the wine on a table just by the door. "And I do mean strong, don't drink it until..." She had already thrown back the entire flask. And she already felt incredibly dizzy. "Sweet maker, I was going to say don't drink it until you're ready to fall asleep."

The room was moving and she was having trouble staying upright. The drink was acting quickly. "That's the sort of thing you say to someone before you hand them such a thing," she slurred, wondering if he could even understand her. She barely understood herself. "I...I think I need to sit down." She started laughing, letting out a snort and quickly covered her nose. "Oh Maker, that's embarrassing." She started to fall.

Cullen burst out laughing, catching her before she hit the floor. "I did say it was strong."

"I think you're going to have to help me to my room, if I can even make it that far."

He pulled her inside the room he had fetched the wine from and sat her on the floor. "I think you may be right. You won't make it that far." He looked around for a moment, considering the options. "Just use my quarters for the night, I'll find my way to the barracks." He picked her up and put her on the bed before she could protest.

"Are you sure," she asked sleepily. "You don't have to put...," and she was out, finally asleep. He shook his head, laughing at what had just transpired. He pulled the quilt over her, accidentally brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. Her skin felt soft. He looked at the skin he had just touched, something about her was very striking, she was beautiful and this was not the first time he had noticed, he stood and watched her sleep for a moment. She almost reminded him of someone he knew once. He realized how inappropriate it was to linger and left silently scolding himself, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could manage.