Circle Tower

Maebh sat in a very comfortable chair next to a roaring fire, wrapped in blankets and furs, a mug of bouillon clutched in her hands.

In Greagoir's personal chamber.

She lifted one weakened hand to rub her forehead. Greagoir entered. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

"Better, though still a bit sore," she shifted in her seat. "And like I could sleep for a week, but no chance of that happening anytime soon."

"Believe me, if I could allow you to do that here, I would. Unfortunately, the Tower is not safe. I took a big enough risk allowing you to stay as long as I have."

"Yes, I wanted to speak with you about that. Maybe it was the delirium, but I seem to recall you mentioning the Right of Annulment?"

"You did not imagine it."

Maebh was silent while that information sunk in. "How could it have come to this?"

Greagoir stood and began to pace. "We are prepared to deal with one abomination at a time, not a … a battalion! We were already weakened by our own losses at Ostagar. We were overwhelmed. I do not make this decision lightly, young lady."

Maebh leaned her head back and closed her eyes, weary. "Of course you don't. Is everybody behind the door an abomination?"

"Well, there are those who are dead, I suppose."

"Don't be like that," she absentmindedly twisted the ring on her finger.

"No. You can't go in."

"I'm not under your jurisdiction anymore," she reminded him.

"Absolutely not. It is out of the question. You may not be under my command but the Templars with the key certainly are."

"If there are any mages left alive I need them for my army," declared Maebh, her temper flaring. "I'm pretty sure a Grey Warden's orders during a Blight supersede that of a Knight-Commander's. And even if they don't, I'm sure I can convince Bran that they do."

"Bran's dead."

Maebh glared at him. "There has to be some left alive in there still. How can you just abandon..."

"I'm not abandoning them! I'm right here! You weren't when those creatures boiled out of the walls and cut through my men like hay! You weren't here when the demons erupted from the floor and set them aflame! You weren't here to hear the screaming!" Greagoir's voice cracked, he took a deep breath. "I'm not losing any more to those beasts. You are not going in, and that is final."

"Damn it, Greagoir! Why go through all the trouble of detoxifying me just to send me on my merry way?"

"I did not bring you here as a child, keep you safe as you matured, defend you from your own father's attempt to have you made Tranquil, just to send you into the gates of Hell!"

Maebh smashed her mug on the floor as she jumped out of her seat. "You forget your place. I have duties and responsibilities that I am obligated to fulfill. Ferelden cannot afford to indulge your paternal fantasies!"

Greagoir grasped her upper arms. "Forgive me," he said tightly. "You have always performed your duty admirably. In some ways, you are so much like..."

Maebh held up a hand. "Like you," she interrupted fiercely. "You have taught me well. Let me help you."

Greagoir's eyes were bright. He nodded his consent. "Are you sure you're quite recovered?"

"I'll be fine. We've wasted enough time on me already."

"Remember when you said that casting earthquake in a cavern was the worst idea you ever had? I think you just topped it," Alistair said angrily.

"You have your orders."

"Do I need to remind you that you were just detoxified? You are in no condition to fight..."

"I feel better than I have in a month. I have a full pack of potion, thanks to Morrigan. You and she and Leliana need to rest. Oghren's drunk. I'm taking Sten and Zevran."

"How can you trust them?"

"What are they going to do? Mutiny or assassinate me in the middle of a battle with a demon? It's in their own best self interest to keep me alive for the duration of this mission."

Alistair slumped, defeated. "I guess that makes sense."

Maebh hugged him tightly. "I'll be fine. Just relax, you've been taking care of me enough lately." She kissed him on the cheek and left, not looking back when the Templars shut and bolted the door behind her.

"Maker's Breath, Wynne?" Maebh could not believe her eyes. "You survived Ostagar?!"

"Yes, actually," she said with a wince. "Though I must say I'm more surprised to see you still standing after that. I thought Wardens were all wiped out."

"Not all. There was myself and one other who had been sent from the field by the king. He saved our lives."

"Thank the Maker."

Maebh paused, uncomfortable. "Wynne, you need to know that Greagoir has called for the Right of Annulment."

Wynne gasped, Petra and Kinnon stared at her, eyes wide with fear. "It is worse than I suspected. Greagoir would not make that kind of decision if he had any other choice," Wynne clutched her staff.

"He did that before I got here. I am his other choice," Maebh's eyes flashed with determination. "But to do what I need to do, you have to let us through that barrier."

"I'm coming with you," Wynne's determination matched Maebh's.

"Impossible. Who will protect the children?" Maebh gestured toward the young apprentices huddled in a corner, small licks of flame and sparks of lighting flickering from their fingers.

"Petra and Kinnon are more than capable. They can erect a similar barrier after we leave. You need me."

Maebh turned away, brow furrowed. She looked at Sten and Zevran, both watched her guardedly, revealing nothing of their thoughts. It occurred to her that an ally against these two could be helpful. She turned back to Wynne. "Fine. But I'm in charge here, Senior Enchanter. This is my mission."

"I would not dream of mutiny, Grey Warden," Wynne said with a small smile.

This was not like her Harrowing. There, the demons had been smaller, almost benign. It was as if they had known it were a game; as if they had known that in the waking world Cullen held his blade to her throat, so attempts to possess her really weren't worth the effort. Or maybe it was her own will, her own arrogance that kept the demons small. Maybe she had been in more danger from the pride demon than she realized.

But she didn't have time for such introspection at this point, because right in front of her was a maleficar surrounded by a troop of abominations who all wanted to claw her to shreds. She saw the mage preparing to cast Sten in a crushing prison and stunned him. "These are all rage abominations," she said to Zevran, who was also surveying the field. "Um, fight fire with fire?"

He glanced at her, "You're asking me?" he asked, disbelievingly. He then slipped away in an attempt to flank the mage. Maebh cast a lifeward on him. She then tried a cone of fire at the abominations, which failed miserably.

"Think, girl," Wynne said with irritation, casting tempest. "Try something cold."

Maebh cast blizzard, which proved remarkably successful against the abominations. Unfortunately, it also froze Sten and Zevran.

"Pashaara. You are no longer under the influence of intoxicating substances?" Sten growled after thawing.

Maebh's lip twitched. "I am not. If you didn't notice, I just saved your hide."

"A happy coincidence."

Maebh stepped up to Sten, drew herself to her full height and stared into his eyes. "A coincidence, you say?" she challenged softly. "We're trapped in here, now. The only way you're going to lead is to cut me down." She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, never breaking eye contact. "How many 'happy coincidences' do you think you'll get without me?"

Sten grimaced in barely concealed fury. "This isn't over."

"I'm sure it isn't. But you're going to stuff it until we're out of this Tower, understood?"

"Understood."

Maebh awoke with a start. For a moment, she did not know where she was. There was no bunk above her, but a canopy. It was warm and soft and there were no echoes of armor clanking and mages murmuring in the halls. The sunlight poured in through large bay windows. Her sheets were smooth and her coverlet luscious. She gathered a large wad of bedding and curled on her side with a contented smile. She heard a familiar voice humming happily and a footstep in the hall. She looked at the door.

There stood Cailan. "Excellent, you're awake!" he loped across the spacious chamber and leapt into bed, grabbing Maebh and flipping her over on top of him as she squealed. "Your Father isn't going to be returning with Orla and Rian until sometime this afternoon," he informed her as he pushed her hair back and kissed her where the corner of her jaw met her neck. "You want to try for another 'spare'?"

She giggled. "I should probably get ready..."

He nibbled her ear, "Always so dutiful. What about your wifely duties?"

Something flickered in Maebh's mind. "Duty," she repeated. She pushed Cailan away and got out of the bed. "This is wrong."

"What?" Cailan asked with a baffled laugh. "We're married. This is what we're supposed to do."

"No. No we're not. Where's Anora. Where's Alistair," she tried to gather her will to cast a spell.

"Wait, stop," Cailan scrambled after her. "Think about what you're doing. We've worked so hard for what we have!"

She looked at him, feeling horror pooling in her belly. "We. Don't. Have. Anything."

"Yes, we do!" he grabbed her hands. "We have our love, our children, our people. Ferelden has never been stronger!"

"You are lying to me. This isn't real, I'm a mage and you're... you're dead and we could never..."

Cailan wrapped his hands around her throat and began to strangle her. "You traitorous bitch! After all I've done for you to make this real you're going to just throw it away? You're going to just throw me away?"

Sparks blurred Maebh's vision. She felt her life force leaving her. Panicking, she kneed him in the groin. Cailan let go of her throat and doubled over in pain. She backhanded him across the face, knocking him to the floor. She kicked him in the stomach, then cast petrify and stone fist in short order, shattering him before he could react. She looked around the room, trying to figure out where she really was. She saw a strange dias emerge from the floor. She stumbled over and read the runes inscribed on its surface. The room quaked and shifted, her surroundings shimmered, grew brighter, bright enough to blind her. She closed her eyes tight against the blinding light. When the tremors subsided she opened her eyes again and found herself in the now-familiar Raw Fade. She swallowed and rubbed a hand on her throat, already bearing bruises from Cailan's fingers.

She stumbled along the uneven hillocks until she encountered another creature. He stood by a portal, looking despondent. She blinked, not believing her eyes. "Ni...Niall?" she croaked, throat still not recovered from the attempted strangling.

Niall's look of disbelief mirrored her own. "What? How did you get here?"

Maebh shrugged. "There was... a Sloth Demon? I fell asleep?"

Niall nodded. "Wait, how do I know you're real?"

"Niall, I know you're real because you're the last person in Thedas a demon would conjure to make me want to stay somewhere."

"Yes," he mused, "I suppose you're right at that. But wait, what if the demon is counting on us making that conclusion..."

"I'm going," Maebh whirled in irritation and stomped toward the portal. "I'll come and fetch you once I figure out how to leave."

Maebh stole a glance at each Templar corpse, dreading the answer but sure it was only a matter of time. Her honey-sweet memories of Cullen haunted her. She prayed he was not possessed. She knew if he was, the demon would have used visions of her to seduce him. The guilt stabbed under her heart, sharp as a knife. She should have listened to Greagoir. She should have avoided him. She should have refused his gifts. She should have denied herself the pleasure of those always too-brief conversations. She imagined what life would have been like, if he had been the first-born son and she had been just a farmer's daughter. Their life together growing olives. Growing old. She was oddly grateful her grief over Cailan was still fresh enough that the Sloth Demon latched onto that fantasy. If it had delved deeper and discovered her infatuation with Cullen she wasn't sure she'd be strong enough to resist.

She had given up. Cullen was nowhere to be found. Maybe he had been reassigned after she left and escaped this horror. She was heartened by this. It had to be true, otherwise she would have come across him or have seen him in the entry hall with Greagoir. She was almost to the door of the Harrowing Chamber when she came across something she never expected.

A corner of the hall was completely cut off by a magical barrier. It glowed with an odd, purple light and a humming sound that made Maebh feel slightly sick. Behind the barrier where a number of dead Templars, each in various states of decay.

And Cullen.