Wow! I apologize for how late this chapter is. I truly did not think that it would take me this long to post the next chapter, but with gaining more hours at work and trying to keep up with all of the housework time has gotten away from me. Also, my husband finally agreed to buying my PS4 early instead of making me wait until Christmas, and I have been very distracted playing DAI! Thank you for your patience. Hopefully I will have the next chapter out sometime next week. We shall see.

VIPER'S PIT

Cullen ran a calloused hand down his tired face as he scanned the list of supplies for perhaps the hundredth time. Each of the items was just a small portion of an even larger list of things that needed to be ready for the Herald's journey the next morning, and he wanted to make sure that everything was provided and accounted for before she left.

Waterskins

Salted Pork

Hardtack

Blankets

Tents

Weapons

Horses

Lyrium

Healing potions

Placing the paper on his desk, Cullen massaged his temples. The headache which had started hours before had yet to ebb. He glanced at his wooden chest at the foot of his bed, knowing that in it lay the one thing that could take away the throbbing pain.

Gritting his teeth with the effort, the former Templar wrenched his gaze away from the box and, instead, out his office window. It was a cloudy night with a few snowflakes falling lazily to the ground. Cullen focused on the flakes of snow as they drifted through the air, willing his headache away as he stared into the night.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement - a form slipping from shadow to shadow between the wooden structures and alleyways. The Commander was instantly on his feet, and reaching for his sword. He highly doubted that this shadow was one of Leliana's people (she trained them to not be spotted). For a brief moment he considered the possibility that it could be one of his men being released from his watch, but the figure's build was too slight to be one of his warriors.

Grabbing his sword and cloak, Cullen cautiously slipped out of his cabin. Greeted by a cold gust of wind he tugged his cloak tighter around his shoulders and followed the shadow.

The slight figure moved steadily towards the western part of the wall. He observed as the mystery person slinked along the edge of the wall to where the wooden structure met the mountain. The figure paused only once before slipping between the rock and wood. Foot catching on an unseen rock the figure stumbled momentarily before regaining his balance. Cursing softly in elven, the figure continued away from Haven.

Without hesitation, the Commander followed the shadow. Not once did he think to call for aid - he didn't need it. By now, he was almost certain he knew who the figure was, judging by the surreptitious movements and other tells, and he knew exactly where she was heading.

It wasn't long before the outlining of the Herald's favorite hideaway came into view. Cullen wondered how often she came out here at night alone. It grated against the man's every instinct to think that she was away from any protection or help. And while he knew that she was quite capable of defending herself, it did not change the way that he felt.

Sticking to the shadow of the trees, Cullen silently watched as the elf entered the small clearing of pines. He felt the pull of magic as a small ball of fire formed in the mage's hand, its glow illuminating the shadows surrounding her.

Cullen was momentarily mesmerized by the elf's beauty in the dancing firelight. She had removed her hood, revealing long, cascading hair. It was the first time Cullen had seen her hair loose from its usual braid. The raven strands framed her oval face as her pointy ears just barely showed. The dance between shadow and light gave the elf and ethereal look.

Shaking himself from his trance, the man noticed as the elf knelt and began to mutter in elven. He soon realized that she was praying, and though he did not understand her words, he did hear the name Mythal mentioned several times. Cullen knew little of the Dalish customs, but he did know that Mythal was one of the most revered elven gods.

Suddenly, the lass stood and began to pace around the clearing, and he noted the way her brows pulled together, as if in deep thought. At first, he assumed that she must be praying silently when suddenly her pacing stopped and she lifted her gaze upwards to the darkened sky.A moment later, the most beautiful sound issued from her lips.

I pray you'll be my eyes

And watch me were I go

And help me to be wise

In times when I don't know.

Let this be my prayer

As I go my way.

Lead me to a place,

Guide me with your grace,

To a place where I'll be safe.

Cullen stood mesmerized. He had never heard anything as beautiful as her voice. She sang with such clarity and feeling, and he wondered if this is how the Maker felt when he first heard Andraste sing. The Commander of the Inquisition felt a thrill go through him as the elfin lass continued her song.

I pray I'll find your light

And hold it in my heart.

When stars go out each night,

Remind me where you are.

Let this be my prayer

When shadows fill my day.

Lead me to a place,

Guide me with your grace,

Give me faith so I'll be safe.

Morwen sighed as she finished the last words of her song. The singing usually helped, although, tonight it did little to ease her anxiety. In all honesty, she was nervous about the trip to Val Royeaux. She would rather face a horde of raging demons than deal with a bunch of raving Chantry clerics.

Words.

Josephine had said that they were just words.

Yet, the elf could not shake the feeling that more than words awaited her in the capital city of Orlais. She gnawed at her bottom lip as she attempted to calm her raging nerves. It would be fine. She could handle whatever was waiting in the strange city.

Pulling her hood over her face, the mage extinguished her flame and silently wandered back to Haven. Not once did she noticed the man hiding in the shadows.

Cullen did not know how long he remained in the copse of trees, staring at an empty space. He was unsure of what he was feeling. He saw a new side to the Herald that he had never before observed. She had always been strong and opinionated, and he had thought that nothing could penetrate that tough facade that she always wore. Tonight, however, he had witnessed a softer side to the Herald of Andraste, and he wasn't entirely sure what to make of it.

Val Royeaux, the capital city of Orlais, was unlike anything Morwen had experienced. The Sun Gates of the city were intricately fashioned after the rise of Orlais' first Emperor, Kordillus Drakon. The gates glittered in the midday sunlight, shining brightly in the elf's eyes.

As the Herald and her small troop passed through the gates, their eyes were greeted by impressive, gold roofed buildings with walls painted white and deep blue. Crimson drapings hung from the windows in a majestic display of color.

The Dalish elf couldn't help but stare at the grandeur surrounding her. She had never seen a human city so beautiful and pristine in all her life. Not even when she was a child in the Free Marches. Those cities were plain, and most definitely not as grand or pristine as Val Royeaux.

Making their way slowly through town, Morwen noticed a strange absence of people in the streets. Bells rang out in a woeful tune as a dark, somber mood settled upon the travelers.

"The city still mourns," observed Cassandra.

Morwen agreed. Just then, a woman passed them. The elf stared at the strangely clad Orlesian. It was not the dress that drew the elf's attention but the mask that the stranger wore, and the odd hat that sat upon her head. It was as if someone had taken a pillow and placed a feather on top of it then shoved it over her hair. The impracticality puzzled Morwen.

Before the mage could decide what to think of the strange hat, the woman took notice of the elf and her party. Glancing sharply at the foursome, recognition flared in her eyes. Gasping in alarm, the Orlesian woman hurried in the opposite direction.

"Just a guess, Seeker," Varric commented. "But I think they all know who we are."

"Your skills of observation never cease to impress me, Varric," Cassandra dryly replied.

Morwen smirked at her two companions. They seemed to enjoy getting on each other's nerves. On the trip to Val Royeaux, Varric tried a number of times to get the Seeker to play a "seeking" game. It never worked, and his attempts were usually rewarded with a disgusted noise from Cassandra.

Turning her attention back to the present, Morwen's eyes narrowed. Something wasn't right. She had assumed that the further they ventured into the city the more people that they would see. There was no one in sight, save for a lone figure running towards them.

"My Lady Herald," gasped the newcomer as she knelt before the elf.

"You're one of Leliana's people," Cassandra noted. "What have you found?"

"The Chantry Mothers await you...but so do a great many Templars," the scout reported.

"There are Templars here?" Morwen asked, slightly alarmed. She could already feel the panic beginning to grow in her stomach.

"The people seem to think that the Templars will protect them from..." the scout paused hesitant to finish the sentence.

"Go on," the Seeker prompted.

Reluctantly the spy finished, "...from the Inquisition. They're gathering on the other side of the market. That is where I believe the Templars intend to meet you.

The churning in the pit of the Herald's stomach increased. Morwen could feel invisible walls of fear closing in around her. Her demons screamed to be free. She should have known that Templars would be here. She should have listened to Leliana about this gathering being a trap. Panic froze all thought.

A slight pressure on her shoulder pulled the elf from her inner turmoil. Cassandra was gazing steadily at the young lass. Morwen stared into the dark eyes of the Seeker, willing for the other woman's confidence to boost her own failing resolve.

Taking a deep breath, she searched the faces of her other companions and pulled strength from their confident gazes. "There is only one thing to do, then," she said, moving towards the market.

Into the viper's pit, Morwen thought grimly.

On the other side of the market there was a crowd gathered around a raised dais. Several Chantry Mothers and a Templar stood on the structure, with one of the Mothers speaking to the crowd. Moving through the crowd, Morwen heard the woman speak.

"Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me! Together we mourn our Divine - her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery!"

Morwen moved steadily through the crowd, her eyes never leaving the woman on the dais. This was the woman that she was going to have to convince to support the Inquisition. The elf knew that it wasn't going to be easy, but she wasn't going to let this woman win without a fight. Stopping directly in front of the Chantry Mother, the Herald met the heated gaze of the other woman.

"You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more!" With great contempt and disdain the Mother gestured towards the elf, "Behold the so called Herald of Andraste. Claiming to rise where our beloved fell! We say that this is a false prophet. The Maker would send no elf in our hour of need."

"I make no such claim," Morwen responded vehemently. "I wasn't sent here by Andraste or the Maker. I am simply trying to close the Breach. It threatens us all!"

"It's true," Cassandra pleaded. "We only seek to end this madness before it is too late."

A disturbance to the elf's right drew her attention. A group of Templars were making their way towards the platform.

"It is already too late," The Chantry Mother answered as she triumphantly gestured towards the Templars ascending the raised platform. "The Templars have returned to the Chantry. They will face this 'Inquisition,' and the people will be safe once more!"

As the Templars ascended, a brutish looking one approached the Mother and hit her roughly on the head, knocking her to the ground. Murmurs of disbelief and shock ran through the crowd. The Dalish elf narrowed her eyes at the men. She may not have liked what the Chantry woman had been saying, but she did not condone an attack on an unarmed woman.

"What's the meaning of this?" the Herald demanded.

"Her claim to 'authority' is an insult. Much like your own," a voice belonging to a tall, dark haired Templar answered. His manner of standing and the the way that the other Templars stood respectfully behind him marked him as their leader.

"Lord Seeker Lucius," Cassandra's eyes widened in recognition, and she interjected. "It is imperative that we speak with..."

"You will not address me." The Lord Seeker dismissed as he descended the stairs.

Taking several steps towards the Templar, Cassandra hesitated, "Lord Seeker?"

Lord Seeker Lucius turned to glare at the Seeker of Truth, "Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste's herald. You should be ashamed." Turning to the crowd he addressed the people of Val Royeaux, "You should all be ashamed. The Templars failed no one when the left the Chantry to purge the mages."

Morwen chewed on her bottom lip vigorously. This was the sort of arrogant behavior that she had come to expect from the Templars. It irritated her immensely.

Arrogant bastard, she seethed silently. If I had you to alone you'd wish that you were never born. Biting her lip hard, the elf kept her thoughts to herself as the man continued his rant.

"You are the ones who failed. You, who'd leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear," Lord Seeker accused, raising a finger towards Cassandra and the Herald. "If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is mine!"

"If you're not here to help the Chantry, then you just came to make speeches," taunted Morwen.

"I came to see what frightened old women, and to laugh," sneered the Templar. "I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the Void. We deserve recognition. Independence. You have shown me nothing, and the Inquisition...less than nothing. Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!"

With that the Templars turned and marched out of the market and out of Val Royeaux, never once looking back.