A/N: Sorry for the wait, everyone! I've been working on this chapter between finals and work, and hope you all will enjoy it. Thank you so much to those that have reviewed and continue to review. Your support means the world.
I've also been up to no good. Some of you may have already seen my teaser for the sequel to this story. If not, please go check it out on my profile.
In the wee hours of the morning, the courtyard was shrouded in fog. Cullen had gathered all of Evelyn's inner circle together to discuss their travel plans. Their expedition would look and function much the same as it had when they'd moved on Adamant, though perhaps a bit less hurried and with a great deal more soldiers to look after. Frankly, though Cullen cared little for the man, he was pleased Gaspard was to arrive with his Chevaliers and join them to the Arbor Wilds. To say that he was surprised by Celene and Gaspard's generosity on the matter was accurate, and it grew greater still when a single unit of Fereldan soldiers appeared with a unit of archers from Gwaren the night before. Leliana had briefly announced their arrival along with apologies from King Alistair that he himself could not join their campaign, though she didn't stay long. It had been, after all, a very busy day for all of them, but the Commander and the Inquisitor doubly so.
He smiled to himself as he vaulted into his saddle, remembering Evelyn's vehement nod to his proposal. She had looked at him with such vast adoration that he felt certain he would weep with joy.
Cullen Rutherford did not cry.
She had agreed to marry him, wonder of wonders, and he would do his damndest to be worthy of her pledge, to deserve the role of her husband. First, however, they needed to survive the Arbor Wilds, defeat Corypheus, and pummel that jackass Samson into the next age like he deserved. If Cullen had his way, the bastard wouldn't survive their next encounter.
"You allowed our lovely Inquisitor out of bed this morning, did you not?"
Cullen rolled his eyes, turning his head to see Dorian smirking at him in that way that meant the mage was seeking to nettle him.
Two could play at that game.
"Of course I did." His easy, knowing smile was all the mage needed to draw his own conclusions.
Dorian's mustache twitched. "You southerners. You're positively barbarous to your women." He paused, devilish smile showing his perfectly white teeth. "And to your men?"
Cullen laughed, covering his mouth with a closed fist. "Afraid you're going to have to ask someone so inclined to give you more information on that account."
"Pity," the mage sighed dramatically. "What I wouldn't give for you to change preferences for just one night."
"Sounds like a wish you'll have to make to your fairy god mother."
"Solas? No. He'll only lecture me again about the virtues of thinking of more than myself. That's a terribly dull pastime, you know. I never get bored when staring into a mirror."
"Gentleman," Cassandra spoke stiffly, riding up to them on her own steely-gray mount. "Time to pick up the Inquisitor."
By the time Evelyn heard the approaching hoofbeats of at least two dozen horses, she'd already given her father a teary farewell and was now looking upon Kara with both pride and a fair touch of sorrow. She'd grown incredibly fond of the young woman Cullen had rescued those few years ago from the Hinterlands, and now that she was older, she wished to further her studies.
Unfortunately, the mages within the Inquisition had very little time to devote to Kara's needs, and Evelyn had thus far been trying to supplement the tomes and intermittent knowledge the girl obtained, with little success. Eventually, Evelyn had decided that perhaps she should bring up the subject of moving Kara to Ostwick and the remaining Circle there, if only for a scholarly benefit. She had shown great aptitude for elemental magic, and Evelyn knew three mages personally who would be incredible tutors.
She simply had not known how Kara would react to Evelyn suggesting she go back to a Circle, given her outright censure of them when they had first met. She had been surprised, however, when she had agreed, and appeared almost excited.
So it was now that Evelyn spoke words of encouragement to Kara while her adopted mother and siblings finished packing their wagon. They were going with her as well, and Lord Trevelyan had assured them that they would be welcome in his home as any other.
He was also leaving, both to accompany Kara's family and to return home to Evelyn's mother and brother, who had managed the Circle while he aided the Inquisition. Peter had expressed an interest in accompanying him, much to her surprise, but she guessed his desire sprang from Peter's protective nature, as the last time her father had set out, they'd almost lost him.
While her brother and father never really saw eye to eye on much of anything, and Peter tried his damndest not to look like he cared, it was quite obvious that losing their father would probably affect him most deeply. They'd been close when Peter was younger, perhaps closer still when Aaron and Edward had left for Templar training.
"I'll be fine," Lord Trevelyan said. "You and Hawke go deal with the Red Templars and find Aaron. We can speak more afterward if you still want to come back home."
Peter only nodded, murmuring something else that she could not quite hear over the sound of her myriad of companions now entering the small village that sat at the foot of the mountain where Skyhold stood. At the front of the group rode Cullen and Cassandra, both looking for all of Thedas like they were trying to avoid listening to Varric and Dorian's conversation, which was most assuredly ten shades of inappropriate.
"Are you really going to marry him?" Kara asked from beside her, drawing Evelyn's attention away from Cullen and back to the girl who had grown from a leggy youth to a young woman in just a few short years.
"Yes," she replied, "I am."
"Good," Kara smiled. "You're both too nice to be married to someone else."
Evelyn chuckled at that. "Oh? Who else would I be married to?"
Kara covered her mouth with her hand as she sniggered. "Varric."
At that, the Inquisitor burst into laughter. "I dread that I should come between a dwarf and his crossbow. That would be an unhappy marriage, indeed."
The two of them dissolved into giggles, not noticing Cullen's approach until he nudged Kara with his elbow and wrapped an arm around Evelyn.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing," they both answered, then began to laugh again.
"Commander Cullen," Lord Trevelyan's voice stifled their laughter, though just barely as Evelyn's father joined their little group. He extended a hand to Cullen, which the Commander immediately shook with an incline of his head. "I trust you'll take care of Evelyn while I'm gone."
"Of course, Ser."
"And I expect to see you both in Ostwick when this mess is over." He eyed them for a moment before smiling at his daughter. "Your mother will likely send threatening letters to all of your advisers until she meets Cullen in person, so try to be quick about it."
A jest, Evelyn knew, though likely not the bit about her mother, who could be extremely bull-headed when the mood struck her. She flashed a smile at Adair. "No pressure, of course. I'm sure the Inquisition will just waltz in and defeat the Red Templars, take care of the corrupted Lyrium, and deal with Corypheus all in one go."
Cullen snorted. "Wouldn't that be something?"
Adair Trevelyan smiled again, though his mood sobered somewhat. "Be careful. I'll see you soon."
"Goodbye, Papa."
Cullen cocked his head to the side, trying to decipher what Evelyn and Peter were going on about a few feet behind he and Cassandra. His eavesdropping must have been appallingly apparent, for when he glanced over at her, Cassandra's brow was raised questioningly at him, a smirk trying to find its way to her lips.
"You have never heard the Ostwickan dialect before?"
He was embarrassed to admit that he had not, even more so that he hadn't even realized Evelyn spoke any other language than Common Imperial.
"I would not feel so bad," she continued. "The Inquisitor tries very hard to ensure her accent is undetectable, and believes that speaking openly in a foreign language is disrespectful to those around her who cannot understand the conversation."
The sensibility of that statement was undeniable. "Can you comprehend it?" He knew from experience that Cassandra was versed in a few different languages, for such was part of her training as a Seeker.
"Bits and pieces, though Ostwickan is a bit hard to follow. It is very...sing-songy."
Cullen glanced over his shoulder again at the siblings, tuning an ear to the foreign words he couldn't possibly understand if he tried, and found Cassandra was correct on that point. Whereas Imperial was blunt, and spoken from the front of the mouth, it seemed Ostwickan was spoken from the middle of the pallet, and the tone of voice rose and fell in such a way that it did sound very much like a song. It also sounded about as complicated as Orlesian.
Evelyn caught his eye, flushing in embarrassment before spurring her horse to come ride beside him. "I'm sorry," she began, still red-faced with traces of her accent still lingering in her speech. "Peter and I were discussing Aaron."
Cullen smiled, trying to hide his amusement at her entirely unnecessary apology, then stiffened visibly in his saddle at the mention of Evelyn's traitorous brother. He certainly hadn't forgotten the cur, but he and Evelyn had not spoken one word about the possibility that he might be with the Templars in the Arbor Wilds.
"You think he'll be there?"
She nodded, lost in thought a moment before she replied. "Yes. He has nowhere else to go. He'd have been thrown out of Ostwick, and he's never been one to strike out on his own, so we think he would have gone with them."
From the way her voice wavered, Cullen could tell Evelyn was struggling to maintain her composure. Obviously her brother, though an incomprehensible ass, was important to her.
"Perhaps I could convince him to return with us. He doesn't have to be with them. He really isn't like that and-"
"Evelyn." Cullen's interruption was quiet, but firm as he tried to drive images of the day he'd found her made Tranquil in that cesspit of a keep from his mind. If it weren't for Aaron, she'd likely not have suffered that indignity, nor the pain of it, and Cullen was determined to pay him back tenfold for his treachery. "Aaron made his choice. He would rather sacrifice you, and all the other mages of Thedas, simply for his peace of mind. Do you honestly believe he's become more rational after all this time with Corypheus' fanatics?"
He hated how her shoulders slumped in defeat at his words, but she needed to see reason. While Cullen loved Evelyn's generous and gentle spirit, he knew that in this regard, she had to harden her heart. Aaron was most certainly past the point of no return, and she needed to be ready to face that reality.
"You're right," she sighed, drawing her mount closer so that her leg brushed against his. A small point of contact, but it was nonetheless reassuring for her. "It's just difficult to come to terms with it."
It took four more days for the Inquisition to reach the Arbor Wilds, and another to find a suitable base camp. All the while their numbers were harried by the Red Templars, but they were so few that the rebels were easily beaten back.
Cullen was damn near horrified at their lack of common sense, even more so at the way they recklessly rushed in to pick off a few of the Inquisition's people, as if such a small victory would balance the risk. Thanks to his quick thinking and heavy-handed training, the Inquisition had lost not a single soldier to the Templar's attacks.
"They're stupid - bloody stupid," Cullen grumbled to himself as he pored over maps of the region with Gaspard, whom they had met on the road. Both men seemed confused by the sheer lack of coordination they were facing in the opposition, and generally believed it to be some strange strategy to catch their armies off-guard.
"Leliana's scouts are reporting that both Corypheus and Samson are in the area," Evelyn read from a report in her hand. Cassandra's shrewd, cat-like eyes viewed another report detailing the same.
"They are due south, in the ravine and on the other side of the river. Apparently it is too deep to navigation foot or horseback, but there is one crossing, and it is there the bulk of the Templars remain. Perhaps the parties we have seen thus far have been deserters."
"That's certainly possible," Gaspard mused, marking off the location of the shallow crossing on his map.
Cullen shook his head. "Unlikely. They're addicted to Lyrium. They wouldn't stray far from a reliable source unless they had a death wish."
"So you think Corypheus is sending them out here on a whim? So few?" Evelyn asked patiently.
"I believe he's trying to fake us out, as Gaspard and I gathered before, or distract us from his goal. All of the attacks have originated from the North, yet from Leliana's reports, Corypheus and Samson are both camped in the opposite direction."
"How do you suggest we approach this, then, if we're more or less surrounded?" Evelyn asked. "I suppose we could split our forces."
Cullen nodded. "That is what I was thinking. We can leave the archers from Gwaren here along with a unit of Inquisition soldiers. That should be more than enough to deal with the small parties we've encountered. Gaspard and I will take the rest of the army south, split up here," he said, splaying two fingers on the map near the river, "and surround them."
Gaspard nodded. "Because they are a reasonably small force, the prudent thing to do would be to surround them and cut off their supply lines. That will also weaken the raiding parties, and make dealing with them easier here."
"The only thing I'm worried about," Cullen hummed, thumbing the stubble on his jaw thoughtfully, "is the Elven ruin. Obviously they haven't been able to get inside yet, but I have a feeling once his men begin to report that we're on the move in their direction, he'll redouble his efforts to get in before we reach him."
Evelyn caught Cullen's gaze across the map. "So," she said with a small smile, "we'll just have to be faster than they are."
"Easier said than done, Inquisitor." Gaspard frowned. "How do you propose we run a hundred horses through this dense jungle to beat Corypheus' informants? That's impossible and dangerous, unless you think you can simply snap your fingers and move the trees out of the way."
"You forget, Grand Duke, that I have mages."
Though few in number, the mages gifted with elemental magic were able to clear a path for the Inquisition's mounted units, who then set off at breakneck speed to intercept Corypheus' informants and surprise the bulk of his army where it loitered in front of the temple. Cullen was among them, and had instructed Evelyn and her circle to stay behind until he'd sent a rider back telling them the camp had been secured.
She did not like the idea one bit.
While she knew Cullen was only concerned for her well-being, she was keen to remind him that she was hale and perfectly capable of joining their forces at the front. He'd heard none of it, vexing her so thoroughly that now she waited for his rider while pacing the length of their encampment, glaring at the dense forest before her.
"I could always burn it down for you," came Hawke's voice, rousing Evelyn from the inner tirade she was having with Cullen's bossy, arrogant, self-serving spectre.
The Inquisitor turned, her expression softening a bit as she sighed. Some of the tension left her shoulders, but she was still anxious and irritated. "No. Thanks for the offer, though."
"Any sign?"
"Not yet, though it's past the time frame we'd agreed upon. I've half a mind to go in anyway - to the Void with Cullen's instructions!"
The Champion grinned. "Well, why not?"
"Because if I botch this, then we're all screwed, and I'm not quite that upset."
"Shame. You know I'm all about breaking rules and not doing what I'm told."
Evelyn laughed. "Well, that's worked out for you. If I tried, I'm sure something would go horribly awry."
Hawke flicked her fingers at Evelyn in a dismissive gesture. "Don't say shit like that about yourself. You're plenty capable of causing a ruckus."
Evelyn inclined her head, regarding Hawke out of the corner of her eye. "You want me to cause a ruckus?"
"I am extremely bored, but I never asked you a thing," she replied with a shrug, and the Inquisitor sighed.
It was past the time Cullen had outlined, and now that worry for him had begun to compound her frustration at being left behind, Evelyn found her resolve waning. It took but a few more moments of thought, staring down the empty clearing before she nodded, turning on her heel toward her mount while tossing a "come on!" over her shoulder.
"Bull's eye!" Varric called, high-fiving Hawke as the dwarf pegged a Red Templar from across the roaring river - in the ass.
The yelp from the man across the way was wholly undignified, and as he danced about trying to pry the offending bolt from his rear, Evelyn found herself growing impatient. They were still following the path the mages had cleared for the Inquisition, but so far they'd seen no rider Cullen promised - only Red Templars. It didn't bode well, and she was sure Hawke and Varric were making light of their predicament in order to spare her the worry. Unfortunately, it wasn't working.
"Let's keep moving!" she called, hurrying along the makeshift roadway.
"Evelyn, they're probably still fighting. You know Cullen, he can't be bothered to do anything by halves. Maker, he's probably hunting down any possibly dangerous wildlife before he summons you."
Peter's words were not entirely exaggerated, but if Cullen made the damn plan, he wouldn't just deviate from it on a whim. Something was going on, and her intuition was practically screaming at her to get a bloody move on.
She'd been right to leave when she did.
As they approached the river crossing, she saw immediately that the fight was still being waged, and though the Inquisition's forces were pushing the Templars back, it was a slow and hard fought advantage against the hulking Red Lyrium brutes that blocked the way. Frantically, Evelyn's eyes searched the field until they landed on the familiar lion helm and dark armor. The tension in her shoulders instantly relaxed, and she blew out a breath while she assessed the situation. Behind the Behemoths, the temple doors stood closed, which meant that Corypheus was not in the area, and neither was Samson.
Bully for the Inquisition, that, though now they needed to push through and get to the eluvian only that much faster. She lead her companions down the small embankment and across the shallow portion of the river where they joined the fray. Still unsure of the stability of her power, she hung back, healing those that fell and dispelling any harmful magics the Red Templars managed to use.
Her passive presence ended, however, when one of the Behemoths backed Cullen up against an entire unit of Red Templars, separating him from the rest of the Inquisition's forces but for two men. They were clearly outnumbered, and when the Behemoth moved to strike, Evelyn felt as if all of the breath had at once left her lungs.
Sparing no thought to whether she could or couldn't do it, she flung out her hands and pushed with everything that she had. It seemed in slow motion when she watched the Behemoth fly backward, his crystalline body splintering apart against the wall of the Temple.
Cullen paused to look her way but a moment, then turning to engage the stunned Red Templars behind him. When all was said and done, he looked around the field, assured that their enemies lay dead or on the run, and removed his helm.
Evelyn had never seen him so angry.
He stalked toward her, fury written plainly across his features. When he came to stand before her, she felt her composure waver for just a moment before she squared her shoulders and met his furious gaze equally.
"I asked you to wait until I sent someone!" he thundered, his chest heaving from his earlier exertion.
"If I hadn't come, you'd likely be dead!" she argued in return, placing her hands on her hips. Her voice caught on the dreaded word "dead", and she sensed his hackles lowered a little.
They stared at one another for what seemed like forever, neither backing down, and both thinking they were in the right.
Cullen was the first to speak. "You're alright?"
"Of course I am," Evelyn snapped, before sighing deeply. "And you?" She stepped forward, splaying her fingers against his breastplate to send a wave of healing energy over his body.
He didn't wait for the spell, simply taking her hand and pulling her bodily toward him, hugging her to his filthy, bloodstained armor. "I'm fine." He pulled away a moment to look her over, as if to be sure she was speaking the truth, before placing a kiss to the Chantry brand on her forehead.
"Cullen?"
"Hm?" He pulled away again, this time surprised when Evelyn snagged the lip of his armor at his neck to pull him down to her level. Eye to eye now, she said, "I swear, if you ever scare me like that again, I'm going to…" She really had no idea what she was going to do to him, but it would be bad, and he'd regret it, she was sure. For the moment, however, she simply settled for pressing her lips against his, her arms winding around his neck to bring him closer. Cullen banded his arms around her in turn, tongue sweeping into her mouth as he assured himself that she was well, and alive, and positively not Tranquil.
Only the annoyed clearing of a throat gave them pause, and when they looked up, Peter was rolling his eyes heavenward. "Look, I know the saying 'you go to war to prepare for marriage' is really fitting right now, but the scouts have the temple doors open. We should probably, you know, do what we came here to do." He jerked his thumb behind him to indicate the portal, and about a hundred pairs of eyes pretending not to watch them.
Cullen cleared his throat. "Of course. Let's get moving." He gave Evelyn's hand a quick squeeze before replacing his helm, and the two of them made their way to the doorway.
Once inside Evelyn felt her stomach plummet as she recognized both Samson and Corypheus' voices. Here she'd thought they had taken the advantage from the Darkspawn Magister, but she'd been mistaken, and horribly so. Though Cullen, much to her relief, didn't seem phased by this at all. His pace quickened through the lengthy archway and his steps were light despite his armor. Perhaps he could teach her to move like that with a hundred pounds of noisy extra weight someday.
Shaking her head to clear useless thoughts, she tried to regain her focus on the task at hand, walking quietly next to Cullen and Varric as they peered around the corner of the entrance and into the small courtyard below. Evelyn frowned, her brows furrowing as she strained to hear Corypheus, who was carelessly tossing a lithe body out of his path. Samson stood beside him, his blade naked and covered in blood. All around them lay bodies, elves and Red Templars alike, though it appeared as if the Templars had suffered far greater casualties.
"These arrows are an old design," Peter whispered from beside Varric and Bull. "Very old."
One elf stood before the imposing duo looking tense, but unfrightened. Evelyn admired his fortitude, for were she in the same position, she'd have certainly looked nervous. He was speaking what sounded like Dalish, and she would give anything to understand the conversation. Looking around at her companions, her eyes first landed on Sera.
No help there.
She then looked for Solas, but the mage was strangely absent. Assuming he'd remained to tend to their wounded outside in the deserted Templar camp with Vivienne, Evelyn thought nothing of it.
"Do you know what he's saying?" she mouthed to Dorian, who nodded once, opening his mouth to speak before Lady Morrigan practically materialized beside them.
"He seeks the Well of Sorrows," she said plainly.
"What? I thought you said he was after an eluvian."
"Well, I am certainly not omnipotent. If the creature says it's after the Well of Sorrows, then that's what it desires. Perhaps the Well is an eluvian, but we shall never find out if we remain here."
Cullen's breath stirred the fine hairs on the back of Evelyn's neck when he next spoke. "There are no more of his men in the surrounding area. What we see is all that's left perha-"
"Be honored!" bellowed Corypheus from below.
The Templars at his side stirred, stances shifting subtly to attack when the creature advanced on the lone elf who still seemed rather nonplussed. Backing away, he moved behind two enormous statues as he stepped onto a low bridge, his eyes never once leaving Corypheus. As the Magister closed the distance between them, drawing nearer to the statues, the stone carvings began to glow.
"Witness death at the hands of a new god!" he called once more.
Varric rolled his eyes. "This schtick again?"
Hawke almost followed with a reply, when suddenly the light from the statues grew so bright that Evelyn had to shield her eyes. Before them, something unexpected happened. The light grew, enveloping and holding Corypheus within it. They looked on in disbelief when the Magister's blighted skin burned and fell away, revealing bone and muscle, and all at once the light reached its brightest intensity, and what remained of Corypheus' body exploded in an intense, white heat.
"What in the-?" Cullen breathed, arm loosening from where it had wrapped instinctively around Evelyn's shoulders.
They moved below carefully to survey the damage, watching as Samson and the remaining Templars chased the elf through the doors on the opposite end of the bridge. Had Corypheus just met his end? Could this really be it?
Their advantage proved short-lived, however. Their party had only made it as far as the statues, now silent and dark, when they heard a low, guttural sound echo off the stone walls behind them. A look passed between Hawke and Varric as all eyes fell onto the body of a Grey Warden, head tucked to his chest and on his knees. He twitched, blood beginning to stream from his nose and eyes.
"Guys…" Peter warned, taking a step back.
The Warden's head snapped backward, blood, dark and gelatinous, spewed from his mouth.
"Shit, Evie," Cullen said firmly, catching her eye from where she stood transfixed by the transformation happening before her. "Get across that bridge!"
"But-"
"Go! Now!"
From the Warden's rapidly liquefying body, a new being was forming. Gore coalesced and strengthened into a new structure, one that appeared - to their horror - exactly like Corypheus.
Cullen gave Evelyn a shove, and the Inquisitor needed no more prodding as she gathered their party and fled across the bridge. Inquisition soldiers filed into the entry, surrounding the forming creature as Cullen remained to shout orders. Above his voice, a screech echoed down and around them from the treetops.
Like something from a nightmare, the dragon Corypheus had used to annihilate Haven - the same that harried them at Adamant - swept down from the forest canopy. Intent on stopping their advance into the temple proper, the beast opened its blackened maw, dragonfire sparking at the back of its throat.
"The door!" Dorrian called, quickly doubling back with Peter once they had all slipped through the portal to close the massive doors. They'd succeeded just in time, a scorchingly hot blast of air barely slipping through the crack as the heavy metal swung shut with a resounding thud.
"Cullen!" Evelyn called, hurrying to the door, hands pressing against it as if she could somehow move the massive thing. Maker, he was out there with that thing - and Corypheus! How in the Blighted world did the Magister come back? They'd seen him die! If he could immortalize himself in such a way, how was Cullen, not to mention the rest of their soldiers, supposed to thwart him? How were they supposed to survive?
She felt panic grip her heart as firmly and surely as a fist.
"He's fine," Peter spoke gently, turning her away from the door. "You know the Commander. He's notoriously difficult to kill."
Evelyn frowned, worry drawing a crease between her brows. Her heart quivered with the notion that Cullen might be hurt, or worse, but her head listened to Peter's words and took hold. She could not afford to dissolve into an anxious mess now. They had come here for a reason.
She pressed her fingers against the sides of her nose, closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Relax, she told herself. If Cullen had died, she would know - she was certain - and he would want her to get on with this so they could return home to Skyhold. Taking a moment, she dropped her hands and nodded at her brother, willing the nervous jitter in her limbs to subside.
"You're right." Opening her eyes, she spared a glance around, seeing neither hide nor hair of Samson or the men he'd taken with him. They were in yet another courtyard, though this seemed far more closed in and decorative. The statues here were old, but well taken care of, and she felt almost as if she were intruding in someone's home. "This place seems...lived-in."
"Good thing I'm not the only one feelin' that," Varric murmured, glancing up and around at the scenery. "Those elves we saw back there, think they live here?"
"Likely," she murmured.
"Here," came Morrigan's calm and quiet voice, and for a moment Evelyn envied her the detachment she so often seemed to feel. The woman motioned Evelyn over, Varric and Dorian on her heels, and the three of them rounded a small, raised platform. In the middle sat a rock. It appeared quite ordinary at first, but at second glance one could just barely make out the weathered, faded lettering carved into the stoney surface. Squinting her eyes at it, Evelyn leaned in.
"Is that in Elven?," she asked. "I only know a little."
Morrigan nodded, running a finger along one of the indentations. Tracing the characters with the pad of a finger was perhaps the only way to identify many of the words. "It is, and I know precious little as well, but…" she cocked her head, frowning a moment. "...enough.
"I assume that this, being a temple dedicated to Mythal, would have received all manner of petitioners and those vying to seek the Goddesses' favor." Morrigan stepped to the side as she said this, and the beautifully carved tile beneath her feet began to glow. "The temple's magic is still quite strong. I imagine this pathway here serves as a way for those seeking entry to display their piety."
Evelyn glanced around, noting the tiles such as the one where Morrigan stood only spanned a few feet here and there. "A pathway, you say?"
"Tis all I could think to call it."
Evelyn watched the space around the tiles carefully, focusing her magic a bit until she could-
Ah, there it was!
Shadows, the kind she had grown used to seeing in Skyhold, meandered about the courtyard. They crawled along the walls, scaled the steps, and flit to and fro beneath the shade of the trees. Several, however, stood where she was standing, and she paid close attention to their path as they crossed over the ornately tiled floor. Mimicking the steps she had seen, she crossed over the tile where Morrigan stood, and stepped onto the one directly next to it. It too lit up, and the Inquisitor, despite her concern for her brave commander, smiled as she seemed to have figured out Mythal's little puzzle.
Morrigan had gone bonkers. That was all Evelyn could think when she'd agreed to leave the Well of Sorrows be and comply with the elf, Abelas', terms. The very moment she'd done so, Abelas had said that the Well needed to be destroyed. Thinking nothing of his comment, because she certainly didn't need anything from the Well, Evelyn had been completely taken by surprise at Morrigan's insistence that the Well remain intact.
Abelas had fled the room, and Morrigan had gone after him in an attempt to stop him. Fearing the mage would get herself killed or run into the Red Templars unaided, Peter and Hawke rushed after the woman.
Fortunately, Morrigan's brash behavior didn't negatively color their reception, and Evelyn and the rest of her party were lead through the depths of the temple - in and out of walls, mazes, and other well-hidden secrets. Along the way they'd seen Samson's men, the first sign of their presence since they'd followed them in at the bridge.
They were killing everyone in sight. The elven sentinels Evelyn had bypassed by showing respect to their goddess were falling at Samson's feet as he unfeelingly felled each and every one that stood in his way. She tried to ignore the carnage and focus, but she could not deny the angry stirring in her gut. The killing was senseless. It served no purpose but to anger the elves and further Corypheus' agenda. Was Samson so blind that he could not see the creature would kill them all? If he thought that he would be spared when his "new god" took over, he would be mistaken. Evelyn did not see Corypheus as the type to share spoils or power.
Then there was the matter of his meddling with her family. At the mere thought, she felt heat rise in her cheeks and pound in her blood, coiling in her gut like a snake ready to strike. Samson's scheming had nearly killed her father, and he'd lured her brother to the Red Templars by playing on his weak mind and faulty logic. She well understood her brother's role in her capture and what had happened to her, but Aaron's motivation arose from fear, not hatred, and that made all the difference to her.
Fear she understood. Fear was a natural response to something that was not easily comprehended. Maker, that was the exact reason most non-magic users despised magic. They could not understand its origins or its purpose and labeled it as evil - a sign of demons and death. The Chantry had played well on that fear, instilling within their Templars not only a sense of superiority, but a fear of magic. Samson, however, did not fear magic. She did not even think he held much opinion of mages one way or another. He was simply a grasping, evil man who would sell his own soul to a demon for a taste of Lyrium.
Cullen had explained much about his old associate on their journey, and that afforded Evelyn insight to the man's machinations, though it did not in any way improve her opinion of him. In fact, it only served to stoke the angry feeling burning low in her gut. She had little time to dwell on that sensation, however, because their guide had lead them through a set of worn wooden doors and out into the open air.
A lush and overgrown garden sprawled skyward before them, and the sounds of a hundred different kinds of birds echoed cheerily off the Temple's stone walls.
"The Well of Sorrows!" Evelyn breathed, focusing across the space to a large circular pool set in a small hill atop a long column of stairs. Hurrying to the bannister, she leaned over to survey the garden below, only to be met with the sight of Samson's men. They'd fought their way through the last chamber, it seemed, and now gutted and murdered the remaining elves seeking to protect this sacred place.
Her fingers tightened on the banister a moment, eyes narrowing on Samson's smug expression as he watched the innocents before him die.
"That bastard," she growled, earning a raised brow from Varric.
"Sunshine?" he asked, "You gonna be alright?"
"When he's dead."
Cassandra nodded, taking Evelyn's anger in stride. She suspected some reaction from Evelyn once again facing the man responsible for making her Tranquil, and she was silently pleased that it was anger. Anger was a tool. One could use it to their advantage, and she would help Evelyn in this endeavor in any way she could, for she had no compunctions about killing Corypheus' general.
"Come then," the Seeker spoke firmly, inclining her head toward a set of stairs leading down into the garden. "Let us go kill that creature and take our leave of this place."
Hawke lamented the fact that they had gone chasing after a shapeshifting mage, one who, to her great irritation, chose the form of a bird to go tearing after that elf. Neither she nor Peter had wings, so they were resigned to picking their way through the darkened and maze-like corridors of the temple, unsure of where they were and where exactly they were going.
"Hopefully if we just keep heading in this direction we'll run into something," he said, moving along at a quick pace despite the gloomy atmosphere.
"This Well, what do you think it really- oof!" Hawke stumbled over something, knees landing in something that quickly seeped into her leggings. "What the-?"
She held up a hand, summoning fire despite the drain to her mana, and recoiled from the body she'd barreled over and the pool of blood she'd disturbed eking out from beneath it.
"A Red Templar," Peter observed quietly, having turned around to giver her a hand up. "Hard to believe they penetrated the temple's defenses this far."
"Samson is one ambitious prick, I'll give him that," she grumbled, taking stock of the damage. So many dead here, and for what?
"Hello?"
The voice echoed from in front of them and the pair spun at once to face it. Though Hawke's mage fire burned brightly, the light only penetrated the murky blackness of the room so far. Silently knocking an arrow, Peter shifted his weight, stepping slightly away from Hawke and out of the light.
"Who's there!" Peter called, drawing back on the string, arm and fingers tensing.
"Peter?" the voice echoed back, seeming relieved and much closer.
Hawke's eyes shifted between Peter and where the voice was coming from, confused, though she stood rooted to the spot. Peter seemed to know this person, or at least recognize their voice. It probably wouldn't do to go throwing fireballs at them. Peter, however, looked for all the world like someone had just pissed in his morning coffee.
"Aaron," was all the Seeker said back. It wasn't a question, and it held no emotional cadence. It was a flat observation despite the curl of his upper lip that Hawke could plainly see.
Peter had heard all he needed to know of his brother's trespasses from Evelyn, who seemed to still believe the man was worth saving. Peter held no such opinion. What kind of man lead his kin into a trap, and saw his own sister mentally castrated in front of his eyes while thinking he was doing good?
"Thank the Maker!" Hawke heard the footsteps hurrying toward her now, Peter's brother drawn to the light more quickly now that he thought he knew the source. "I've been wandering down here for hours. I got separated from Samson." He stepped into the light, eyes widening in momentary panic at the sight of Hawke.
Aaron even had the gall to address Peter as if he didn't know what happened in the Exalted Plains. He wondered, momentarily, what sort of reception Aaron was expecting. Surely the man wasn't fool enough to think he'd be welcome. "What are you doing here?"
Peter was being far nicer than he ought to have been. He should have just killed him, rid the world of his radicalism and hatred and been done with it. While it was perhaps difficult for him to admit, truly, Aaron had become part of Thedas' problem. His brother had become everything he'd hated about the world, and he would see one less dangerous fanatic in the world before more innocents could be harmed.
"I'm here with Samson." Aaron's eyes trembled nervously at Hawke who was standing perfectly still, hand slowly drifting toward his blade. "Brother?"
That was the final straw.
Breathing deeply to shake out his own nerves, Peter let his arrow fly, and it connected with a soft thunk into Aaron's yielding flesh. Harm his father, Tranquilize his sister, and threaten Marian? No. Aaron couldn't be trusted any longer. He was not the boy he'd grown up with
A moment later Peter looped his bow over his shoulder, peering down at Aaron's gaping expression. "You," he growled, "are no brother of mine."
He started walking away, and Marian followed, looking back at the body, arrow stuck cleanly through his throat. "Think you're going to regret that?" she asked.
"No," he replied simply. "He's not a person anymore - not in my eyes."
"Going to tell Evie?"
He paused, mentally chewing it over. "No. Let her think he's still out there somewhere. She has a soft heart for family. While she's upset with Aaron's role in all this, she would find a way to forgive him."
"She's naive."
"She has a good heart."
They walked on for a time, passage curving this way and that, but they encountered no doors. Eventually the silence melted away, however, making room for a pair of voices just ahead.
"You're a demon, you don't oversleep. You don't even sleep. Admit that you were so busy terrorizing Briala that you missed the assault."
"Hey, hey, hey! I've told you how sensitive I am about the demon thing."
"Said yourself you don't know."
"Well if I were a demon, do you think I'd be having this conversation with you? No. The answer is no. The moment you'd begun to annoy me, I'd have just eaten you."
"I'd like to see you try."
There was a pause. "She went this way!"
"Cullen! You made it inside!" Peter greeted the tired-looking Commander. Beside him hovered Friend, who had seemed to pick up a few more small rocks to add to his odd spirit-body.
Cullen's head shot up at the sound of Peter's voice, body tensing before he was able to recognize his friends in the darkened space.
"Shit," Hawke grumbled as she looked around the chamber. "Back at square one."
Cullen opened his mouth to ask, but Peter shook his head. "We probably got turned around. Evelyn is on her way to the Well by now." He turned to Friend. "You said you know where?"
"Yeah, Through this door."
"You're sure?"
"Would you just shut up and follow me already? We don't have a lot of time."
Hawke, Peter, and Cullen moved to follow Friend, and the Commander filled Peter in on what happened at the bridge. "Corypheus is able to move his soul into other Blighted creatures. He reformed his body completely but he didn't want anything to do with me or the Inquisition. Once he realized where Samson and Evelyn had gone, he called his beast and fled the field." He frowned. "I believe he was intending to come this way, but I have found little evidence so far."
"Where's the rest of the Inquisition?" Hawke asked.
"I sent several men ahead while Friend and I looked around here. There are so many doorways and side passages." Cullen's eyes swept each room they entered out of habit, searching for movement. He found none. Elf and Templar alike lay motionless on the floor, and he felt his worry for Evelyn compound tenfold. "Evelyn went ahead with Cassandra?"
Peter nodded. "Yes, with Varric and Dorian. Samson seemed keen on bypassing the elves to get to the Well before her."
"We need to hurry, then." Cullen picked up into a jog. "Samson is no pushover."
"Inquisitor," Samson chuckled, turning from the handful of his men still standing to face her. "I'm surprised they still let you out, broken as you are."
Evelyn very nearly betrayed her surprise, willing her features to remain in place. Samson still believed her to be Tranquil? The man truly had been living beneath a rock since his escape from the Dales. Obviously she saw right away the advantage his misinformation gave her, and silently hoped her companions would go along with her ruse.
"It appears the Inquisition still finds a use for me," she replied, stepping a bit closer to the man. In her pocket, the rune Dagna had given her grew hot, as if sensing her proximity to the armor. The enchanter had said all she would need to do was get close to begin to draw away the energy from Samson's armor, and Evelyn could practically feel the tainted buzz of Lyrium undulating around her. How the Templars could stand to be around the stuff when she barely could, she would never know.
"Oh ho, I bet they have," he sneered, "especially that Commander of yours."
Cassandra tensed, but didn't move, bless her. She was waiting to see what Evelyn would do in response. Clenching her fist in anger of Samson's strike against Cullen's character, Evelyn willed herself to remain appearing neutral.
"Perfect, precious Cullen," Samson continued. "The inquisition's golden boy, and yet do any of you really know what kind of man he is? He's just like Teague."
"That's a load of shit!" Dorian snapped, and Evelyn couldn't help but agree as she inched even closer to the disgraced Templar. Just a bit more…
"Is it?" Samson laughed. "Do you even know the man? He turned the other way, knowing mages in his care were being killed, raped, and mutilated. He even supported those who performed the acts, always saying some such nonsense about them not being people - that they couldn't be treated like everyone else. Yet, he seemed to always get the Circle's trust, didn't he? Did his fair share of fucking around with the apprentices, then left them to rot when it suited him. You call Corypheus a monster and yet let that brute in by the front door!"
"Enough," Evelyn spoke, thanking the Maker that her voice held. She was pissed, nails biting red crescents into her palms with the force of her anger.
Samson cocked his head, regarding her a moment out of curiosity and a bit of suspicion. She was close enough now, wasn't she?
"Right. Enough," Samson replied, turning and pacing away from her toward the Well. "You will not reach the Well of Sorrows. The power is mine to hold, and I will give it to Corypheus so that he can walk into the Fade without using your anchor, since you've been so uncooperative." He turned back, walking straight up to Evelyn. "Now I will bring him the Well's power and your head all at once."
Evelyn's hand tightened around the rune, and she finally allowed herself to sneer back at the pretentious lout. "You can try."
She moved quickly, pulling the rune from her pocket to press it firmly against the Red Lyrium crystal at the center of Samson's armor. The rune sparked and crackled, and for a moment Evelyn feared the thing would break before completely draining the Lyrium of its power. Finally, she felt the creepy energy of the Lyrium fade, however, and the shock on Samson's face confirmed the success of Dagna's enchantment.
"Wha-What?" he staggered backward, clutching at the broken crystal at his chest.
"Your first mistake," Evelyn spoke evenly, drawing Samson's attention to her, "was underestimating the Inquisition."
She summoned her energy around her, sending a blow toward the man that sent him sprawling backward. He scrambled to his feet, hand flying to his sword. He did not get the opportunity to draw, however, because Evelyn hit him again, and again, until he was on his back in the shallow creek that ran through the garden.
She narrowed his eyes on his supine form, focusing at once on the Red Lyrium. It still pulsed, still active, but it was no longer providing Samson's armor with the energy it needed. Perhaps she could turn it to her advantage. Evelyn held out one hand over his body, feeling the crystal with her power and beginning to press down on it from above.
"Your second," she continued, pressing harder, "was underestimating me."
She grunted with the effort, but shoved, splintering the crystal and sending the shard spearing painfully throughout Samson's body. He writhed. He begged. He even apologized, but as Evelyn ground the active Lyrium into his veins, poisoning him with the one substance he spent his life chasing after, she did not hear him.
"Evelyn!"
The voice was distant, and it did not sway her from her task. She would see this man dead, wanted it even, and for the first time in her life she was not disgusted by the notion of killing another human being with her own hands.
Cold pressure pressed against the sides of her face.
"Evelyn!"
The hands shook her gently, and she blinked heavily, feeling herself come to. All around lay the remains of the Templars Samson had lead to the Temple, and her friends stood back, watching her with a mixture of concern and wariness.
"Look at me, beautiful."
Her eyes swung back around in front of her, and she felt her entire body sag in relief. "Cullen"