"What do you mean you cannot activate the mirror? You're an elf and a mage; surely there is some sort of way to wake this up." Dorian turned back to Solas. "Listen carefully, the King of Ferelden is in there somewhere but more importantly if Cullen returns and learns that Yennelyn is lost somewhere in that Eluvian . . . let's just assume that he won't be pleased."
Solas shook his head. "That I am an elf has no bearing on this Eluvian, I cannot say how the Lady activated the mirror or perhaps this is the Other waking and it is best we do not follow."
The usual calm and reserve that surrounded Josephine cracked. Josephine never infringed on another's personal space, it was impolite and touching another person was simply not done. She stepped between Solas and Dorian and clasped Solas' hand. "You cannot abandon the King in such a place; we would be guilty of numerous crimes!" Dorian smirked and coughed to gain Josephine's attention. She quickly dropped his hand and slinked out from between the two men, eyes shifting in hopes her outburst had not caused offense. "I . . . must apologize." In the blink of an eye, Lady Josephine stood composed, hands clasped and voice steady to finish her conversation. "I ask you Solas, anything you can do to assist in the king's retrieval can only help our position."
Alistair's journey through the mirror brought him into a place he'd seen many years ago. The Fade. There were differences, the colors here were richer, darker and the rock formations had grown. He'd climbed steps etched into the rock face leading him on a path towards arguing voices. The mist he remembered in the Fade was a sickly green here, not the pale white in his memory. Grotesque forms grew from the rocks and held red flames. He remembered their position to find his way back to the mirror. After acknowledging him, Flemeth and Morrigan continued their argument.
Alistair did not understand everything he overheard; a frantic discussion about a well, a temple and some kind of pact between them, it was all confusing to him but his concern was the safety of the Inquisitor. Alistair glanced at her several times; this was not the woman he'd heard about from Cullen – even with the little he knew. The woman whom Cullen had described was formidable, calculating and shrewd. Yennelyn's hunched posture and timid presence was in direct contrast Alistair's image of her. "Stay close, I swear I will not let Flemeth harm you."
Morrigan's posture slumped and her head dropped. "Alistair one would surmise after all this time that perhaps you might learn to listen when you are asked to find someone. I do not recall inviting you to follow me here!"
Alistair grumbled. "Forgive me Morrigan, for a moment in the garden I thought you showed signs of becoming human and I followed to render aid."
She scoffed. "Render – render aid?" Morrigan threw up her hands. "Alistair, when I need directions to the larder or which clothes I carry need to be washed by the smell I shall ask for your help. You are the last person I would ever ask to help me."
Alistair closed the distance between them. "Trust me Morrigan. You are the last creature in all of Thedas I would ever consider helping." He moved within a single step from her. "I know everything. Everything you planned and everything you tried to do."
Morrigan narrowed her eyes at him. "You and Solona had to have your own little pet Witcher. You changed him. You took him from me. I will never forgive you for interfering in my life."
Alistair laughed at her words. "He was never yours to begin with, Morrigan. Poor little witch-thief, is that the lie you tell yourself? We're done. May you and your mother enjoy your little reunion, we'll be leaving now."
Flemeth's laugh was more sardonic than Alistair remembered, in fact her scorn was so deeply rooted each word she spoke sliced through him.
"What a lovely show – only you're not going anywhere Alistair."
Alistair held his tongue although he'd had more than enough of Morrigan and her mother. He had to protect Yennelyn and find a way out. "I cannot allow you to harm the Lady Trevelyan."
"Harm her? You should be far more concerned with your own safety." She closed in on Alistair, arms outstretched. "Well? Boy king? I did not expect to cross paths again and yet how lovely it is to see you. Shall we play a game? I'll give you a head start and then take your pretty," she closed in on him, "little," her gloved hand stretched out towards his chin, "head." Flemeth lifted Alistair's chin with her armored glove and he pulled away reaching for the hilt of his sword.
"Mother, please," Morrigan sighed, "why are you here?"
Flemeth glared at Alistair and his weapon hand ready to fight. "Oh no, there will be no fighting here. You need me."
Alistair scoffed at Flemeth's claim. He'd learned she was not to be trusted. "There is nothing we need from you."
Morrigan found her Mother's appearance troublesome. "Mother, how is this possible?" The fear on Yennelyn's face worried Morrigan. "You called the Inquisitor here? Mother, you cannot harm her - the Witcher – Cullen will not rest if you do."
Flemeth stood before her daughter resting her hands on Morrigan's shoulders. "My dear girl, are you still holding on to hope for the Witcher to choose you?" Flemeth clucked her tongue. "I thought I raised you to be stronger than some human girl child pining away for a man who cares for another."
The look of loathing from daughter to mother caught Alistair off guard; but he moved closer to Yennelyn to shield her from Flemeth.
"Enough, Mother. Release the Inquisitor from whatever plans you may have and allow me to return with my companions." Morrigan's voice waivered; her downturned eyes and hint of a frown implied her mother had exposed the truth. Flemeth grinned.
"Be quiet girl, this is not about you." Flemeth turned towards Alistair and Yennelyn. "Move aside, I will not harm your Inquisitor."
Yennelyn straightened and sidestepped around Alistair but squeezed his forearm as she passed. He took the gesture as a sign of her awareness. "The music was you?" Yennelyn asked.
Flemeth's harsh tone disappeared as she spoke with Yennelyn. "I'm afraid not, my dear; the same music guided me here to find you. Unfortunate, but I believe your guest had plans for you here." Yennelyn fought back tears. Razikale meant to claim her here.
"Why did you come, Flemeth?" Yennelyn asked. "Will you end this for me?"
"No!" Morrigan and Alistair screamed in unison and leapt into action Alistair grabbed Yennelyn pulling her away with him as Morrigan set a barrier around them.
"Mother, you cannot touch her!" Strength found she stood between her mother and the others.
Flemeth threw up her arms and sighed. "Foolish girl, I can take the Old One. You believed me about the Well of Sorrows, listen to the voices again what do they tell you?"
Morrigan turned away and closed her eyes while Alistair and Yennelyn looked on. Flemeth focused on Alistair, the ever tightening grip on the sword hilt and his eyes taking in every part of the surrounding Fade.
Narrowed eyes and a thoughtful pause brought Flemeth closer to Alistair. "So, the naïve little Warden grew up. How interesting. I wonder how many of your loyal subjects comprehend their happy little king hides his true self behind idiotic games."
"If you will help, then help. Bait me if you wish, but I will see the Inquisitor home first." Alistair focused on Flemeth's arrogance. He stood straight, arms crossed with Yennelyn behind him daring Flemeth to challenge him. His eyes did not shy from hers and he held her flippant gaze. "Once the lady is safe, I will show you what the 'little Warden' can do." Alistair's arm twitched as it longed to reach for his sword.
Morrigan reached out to Alistair. "Stop. Mother speaks the truth Alistair, she can help. Do what you will Mother and then release us."
She moved towards the edge of the mattress carefully so as not to wake him. "Yen." His strong hands held her from moving any further.
"Cullen, stop. Let me go." Yennelyn laughed as the struggle between them continued. "It's time to wake up." She attempted to move again and failed as his strength even at an awkward angle was too much for her.
He chuckled as she wriggled to free herself from his playful grasp. "This is the last night in Rivain, enjoy it and come back to bed, Yen." Cullen tried to pout with one eye open.
"Cullen that looks positively frightening." She laughed again and cautioned him as he tickled her gently. "Stop it now. I'm warning you, Cullen. You'll leave me no choice."
Alistair smiled from his chair in her quarters. He shook a finger in her direction. "I know that look." Yennelyn shook the memory away and pretended to be interested in a report on her desk. "That will not work with me, my dear. He gets that same faraway look when he talks about you. It's rather sweet, if he's not gutting beasts and routing out evil men covered in blood, he's lost in the memories of you. It's rather endearing if you think on it," Alistair offered.
"You can drop the act, Alistair. Cullen has shared much of your history." Yennelyn smirked and leaned back in her chair. She'd grown tired of Alistair's playful banter and teasing, she hoped Hawke would lead the mission to retrieve Cullen. Alistair, according to Cullen, would be a ferocious ally; what she saw of him left her concerned as to his strength of leadership and stomach for violence.
He clapped his hands together once and laughed. "One of the best imitations of Cullen I have ever seen! Can you appreciate how annoying I find that bloody smirk of his? Have it your way, Inquisitor. You asked for my help; not to sit and entertain you with my wit and humor."
Yennelyn's smile faded. "I don't deserve your help. The thoughts I often had of Cullen running off to answer your wife's call, I was not kind."
He understood. Alistair's jealousy of Cullen could have driven a wedge between them, but it was Solana's constant reassurances that finally broke through Alistair's hardened sensibilities. "There was a time when I despised him: his voice, his strength, the natural ability to lead even those whom he'd recently met. That anger and jealousy changed who I was, who I am," Alistair continued. "Do you know everything that happened?"
She shook her head. "I should have . . . I want to."
"Morrigan had some fool ritual to create a child of the taint." Alistair's bitter tone cut the quiet of the room. "Cullen recently shared everything with both of us. He stopped her, prevented this from happening at the expense of his own happiness."
Yennelyn sank into her chair. She understood Cullen's anger with her father and Morrigan; an innocent life given for power. Cullen must have cared for her to let her live and yet without Morrigan she would not have been freed from Razikale. She could not worry of the consequences of meeting Flemeth until Cullen returned. Yennelyn heard Alistair's question but did not process the words. "Apologies, I missed your question."
"Our son, did Cullen tell you we have a son?" Alistair inquired.
Yennelyn shook her head. "I thought . . . a Warden could not- "
"Cullen - again. He used several of those . . . concoctions of his and let me tell you I . . . never want to feel such pain again; the crux of this tale is both of us were cured. He took the taint from us both. A deadly gamble, my dear, for us . . . for my future." Alistair's emotions normally held behind a wall of jovial teasing and silliness slowly bubbled over. "Without Cullen, Solona's son, - my son would not have been born." Alistair stood and straightened his tunic. "So you want to know Alistair, the real me and not the idiot king?"
"I've offended you and it was not my intention." Yennelyn offered the start of an apology.
Alistair held up his hand and walked to her desk. "On the contrary, I have offended you and Cullen by wasting time with silly games." He leaned on the table his fist balled tight. "When Hawke arrives we will leave." Alistair's determined gaze met hers. "I promise you Yennelyn, I will bring him back or collect every head that comes before me." Yennelyn regarded the man in front of her. Everything about the man before her, the conviction in his eyes, the set jaw and sharpness of his words told her she had been wrong. He understood. Alistair would destroy anyone who stood between him and Cullen.
Yennelyn leaned closer to deliver her message. "Alistair . . . I'd prefer both."
He pulled away and bowed. "It shall be done, Lady Inquisitor."
Yennelyn's eyes brightened as she grinned in malicious delight. "Thank you, your Majesty." She curtsied and led him down the stairs to wait for Hawke.
Alistair paced in the courtyard. "Did she swim from Kirkwall? If that woman is not here by sundown, she can walk."
Dorian secured the bags filled with Cullen's potions and varied healing runes with Varric's help. "Are you sure you understand the vials, Varric? I'd hoped to have time with Hawke to explain, but my notes will have to suffice."
Varric leaned closer and whispered. "Relax Sparkler. I've got this." Varric glanced over his shoulder at Alistair. "You want something to worry about? Try his royal testiness over there. I'm telling you Dorian if the Alistair I traveled with all those years ago comes back; you'll be able to follow the trail of-"
"Varric!" Alistair's harsh voice cut through their secrets. "We've waited long enough. It's time to go."
A gust of cold wind wrapped around Yennelyn. They need Hawke. "Your Majesty . . . Alistair, will you wait a little longer? Consider it my request." She tried to ask for his patience gently looking to Cole for help, but he hung his head. There was nothing he could do to calm Alistair's anger.
Cole wanted to be a part of the rescue, but Varric and Solas agreed he should remain behind.
A shrill whistle cut through the courtyard. Yennelyn's head whipped around. "Cullen!" He often called Shade in the same manner and although it couldn't possibly be him; Yennelyn continued to search for the source.
Varric followed the sound as the second call sounded above him. "That's not Cullen." He looked up to see Hawke, Anders and Fenris on the walkway up above.
Dorian called up to Hawke to join him immediately while Yennelyn kept Alistair occupied. When Hawke and Anders descended the stairs into the courtyard, Fenris joined Yennelyn and addressed Alistair. "You are Ferelden's King and friend to the Witcher?"
Alistair nodded.
"Yennelyn, I trust my presence here won't be a problem," Fenris asked, wary of the woman he remembered from the final days in Kirkwall.
"Fenris, why did you come with Hawke?" He expected her question. When Yennelyn arrived in Kirkwall Fenris took exception to her presence, her lineage and her magic. She'd intervened on his behalf during the battle and healed his wounds; he swore to repay her kindness.
The sigh that escaped him was part growl and part grumble. "A debt is owed to you and respect for the Witcher," He said. "What would you have of me?"
"There was never the expectation of payment, Fenris," Yennelyn said.
"That may be, but if you insist on this party you will need me." He nodded towards Hawke and Anders. "Those two are useless together – mooning into each other's eyes. So I am here," he concluded.
Varric laughed. "It's nice to see you my broody friend – right to the point as always."
"Hmm, Varric, I should have guessed. Book sales must have dwindled yet again." Fenris offered before moving aside to speak with Alistair.
The courtyard filled with different conversations from the informative to the most savage. Dorian reviewed his notes and the vials with Anders and Hawke, instructing Anders on the best magic to help Cullen if time became a factor. Anders listened carefully and could identify the different potions and runes with little error. Yennelyn and Varric discussed the documents Varric carried, writs and edicts demanding Cullen's release and letters from several well-connected noble families. She longed to be a part of the hushed discussion between Alistair and Fenris -heads bent in secrecy, the occasional nod from Fenris was evidence enough to his support. She could only guess the imperatives Alistair would share to prepare Fenris for what they could face. Save what must be saved and leave the rest to the dirt.
She caught movement near the portcullis and wondered why Cole walked Shade around slowly leading him towards the main gate. The two continued their clandestine escape hiding under the guise of a casual walk in the courtyard. Following their meandering path, she bit her lip to hide her discovery and focused her attention elsewhere, glancing over to catch the daring move by Cole. She grinned as Cole seated himself halfway through the entry and Shade casually carried his rider away.
The White Spire
Time means nothing to a Witcher. Cullen had prepared himself years ago to lose everyone around him before old age found him. His shoulders and arms are numb; the best guess is he's been chained for a week or two. The pain is minimal; Cullen just pretends the blows and taunts are painful. He meditates in the Fade as Solas taught him to do, to speed healing and strengthen his mind.
His journey takes him to Skyhold, vacant and silent. Cullen can breathe the chilled air and walk untroubled. He climbs the steps the Main Hall and smiles as the fire pits sputter to life.
"Nice place you have here Witcher." A young girl, dressed in white sits on the Inquisitor's chair.
"Purpose," Cullen says, "so much for meditation."
She giggles in response, "I'm impressed! You remember me, but more so because you proved me right." She jumps down and skips towards him. "The Templar and the Witcher, purpose before pride and now you face a test, Cullen. The Templars are dying. The corruption cannot be stopped. You can rebuild them – with help of course."
Cullen shakes his head. "No, it's better to cut out the infection and let the rest heal."
She frowns and the expression on the young child's face disturbs him. "I'm afraid it's far worse than you can imagine. To the north, the Templars can do nothing other than harsh words and blind eyes. In the south, the infestation touches all except one – you." Purpose waits for Cullen's response.
"I reject your claim every soul is corrupt. There are Templars within the Inquistion-" Cullen starts.
The vision of Purpose shimmers as her form changes before him to an adult female, her hood falls away to reveal a formidable warrior scarred in battle. "They follow you - their purpose is clear. This is no simple illness; you will have to destroy much to build the Order without lyrium, without chains and without your Chantry."
"That part of me is gone, Purpose. I am a Witcher." Cullen offers. "I am not suited to rebuild the Order."
Purpose snarls and advances. "Who are you?"
He steps backwards unsure what response she wants. "A Witcher."
"Your name Witcher. Give it to me!" She pounds her fist on his chest.
He stops her hand from another blow and gently releases it. "Cullen Stanton Rutherford." He whispers and sees where Purpose is leading him. "You think because I accept who I once was I could help the Order, is that it?"
The warrior circles around him appearing once again as the young girl. "A path was set for you Witcher; I saw it and walked with you. Was it set by the Maker? I can't even tell you if there truly is one called the Maker in this expanse. But I am here as are you perhaps there is some truth behind your belief."
The impact of heavy objects against stone draws Cullen's attention towards the entrance. "This is supposed to be a private meditation, how is it possible for these interruptions?"
Purpose giggles enjoying Cullen's frustration. "This is the Fade Cullen; you're on our terms here. I caution you. Be wary of her, she spent far too long in one place and has picked up one rather dangerous attachment – you."
Cullen spins around to ask more of Purpose only to find empty space amid the increasing blows on the doors. Dust falls in sheets warning Cullen whatever seeks to breach the hall will destroy Skyhold to enter. Cullen waits between blows to shout to the intruder. "Come in or leave me to my rest!"
He exhales at the sudden silence until a slow creak and the scrape of an uneven edge cracks open a door that does not exist in the waking world. The wooden doors smash open against the stone walls as a gust of wind reveals another uninvited guest. A solitary figure stands in the entry; a heavy cloak disguises just enough of the figure to confound him; another wind gust reveals a slight frame and hints at curves to convey a feminine form. The thick fabric billows in a rush of wind as a storm brews in the darkened skies of the Fade. A honeyed voice speaks from beneath the hood, leaving no doubt a woman hides within the fabric folds.
"Would it please you to learn she is free?" The voice resonates through the hall. "Would you consider an exchange?"
"Reveal yourself or I will not continue," Cullen orders.
"Then I am afraid there is nothing to say, for I cannot reveal what has no form. Your Renae is free; but I am bound and I seek you to grant me the same."
Cullen shakes his head. "If Yennelyn is free then my contract is concluded. Your path is your own for now." He strides quickly past the hooded form and makes for the steps.
The wind ceases. "The path before me leads to wrath and ruin." Her warning is clear.
He does not face the figure. "Then we will see how strong the will of a god truly is, won't we?"
The howling winds return and do not mask the sounds of the creature emerging behind him. Razikale.
"A final offer Witcher or perhaps a gift; in the future to come I will answer to your call once more. You alone have the freedom to choose when and for what reason. Until then, Witcher."
Wings slap the air once and take to the skies. Cullen is pushed down the stairs into Skyhold's courtyard into the face of Purpose once again. "A gift it says. You know the nature of gifts and promises - nothing is ever without cost." She brushes the dust from her dress and smiles up at Cullen, a smile filled with secrets. High in the sky above him the Breach explodes covering Skyhold in an eerie glow signaling the wrath of the heavens. "Once again Witcher, you are to be taken from me before I can have my say. I'm afraid it's time to wake now, Cullen."
Somewhere in Thedas
Bathed in the glow of the Breach, she speaks to them in turn, of their strengths and their friendships, she tells them where they are headed and what they could face. Each nods their agreement, their covenant to follow her. She turns and faces the gates and asks for his guidance. Not a deity she swears no fealty, no belief - but the man who has walked with her, loved her and fought with her. She sees him where none can, standing before her shaking his head and smiling, arms crossed. He jerks his head prodding her to move on and finish what she must. A sudden warmth on her cheek, a shiver and a deep inhale to find his scent. When none is found she rolls her shoulders resolute and ready before she sets out to meet her adversary.
The White Spire
"What is wrong with knocking on the bloody door?" Alistair asked.
Varric's head dropped as he stopped working on the heavy locks on the cellar entrance. "Oh, I don't know, your Magnificence, maybe we prefer not to alert every Templar in the place to the fact we're even here?"
"It's simple." Alistair knocked on an imaginary door in front of him. " 'Oh hello! Yes . . . I am the King of Ferelden - now open the fucking door and move aside!'" Alistair's frown faded into a smile as he looked around for agreement.
"If it gets us inside quicker, I'm all for the king's plan," Fenris sighed.
"Thanks for your support Broody, there are eight locks. I've got one left on this side and the other four over there. If one of you even had the-" Varric started.
Fenris lifted his broadsword and jumped towards the left door, shattering all but one. "There. Perhaps now we might get inside before we lose the dark?"
"You missed one," Varric quipped and hurried to open the final lock.
Hawke and Alistair reviewed their plans; she would take Anders to find Cullen while Varric, Alistair and Fenris would work through the tower, looking for evidence of Red Templars and red lyrium. Once all were in agreement, Varric and Fenris opened the cellar doors to be greeted by a cloud of smoke and Cole's frantic words.
"They're all wrong! The whole tower is wrong! I can't get to him!" Cole cried out and disappeared back into the cellar.
Varric hurried down the steps after Cole. "Kid, slow down, how did you get in? Where's Cullen?" Varric questioned Cole concerned over his agitated state. Varric couldn't understand Cole's need to stay close to Cullen. He'd witnessed several conversations between the two and in every discussion the Witcher gently asked Cole not to delve too deep into the secrets and shadows within Cullen's memories. Varric guessed Cullen had greater insight into Cole's connections to others and sought to protect the boy.
Cole shrugged. "The front door, it's never guarded and always open." Cole continued through the cellar and up a small flight of stairs.
Alistair leaned close to Varric. "The front door, what an excellent idea."
"Fine. You were right, your Impressiveness – happy?" Varric grumbled at Alistair's renewed smugness.
Alistair grinned. "Exceptionally, thank you. Cole where is Cullen?"
Cole froze on the steps and did not face the group. "He's in the Pit. I can't get there. Too many Red Templars." Cole continued up the stairs and listened at the door. "The way is clear. When you leave, turn to your left, there is a door, enter and wait."
"The Pit? Sounds delightful," Hawke chirped. Her sarcasm dropped away as she took control. "Change of plans, Cullen first, and then we can clear out the Templars." The group agreed and followed Cole to the empty room.
Cole knew every part of the Pit. He'd searched around passageways long flooded and crumbling to find rooms unlocked, most long emptied of their alcohol and wine. Some still held untouched treasures and artifacts, but Cole would steer the party from such distractions. When Cole had wandered the passageways years ago, he'd found many of the routes leading towards the city collapsed or almost entirely flooded. Despite the uninhabited halls and rooms, Cole still avoided one area of the Pit – the dungeons. Memories hung thick in the air, ready to strangle, drown and stab at the sanity of any who dared enter. Hundreds of cells, most unusable would prove a long and costly search. Cole would lead them in the right direction but the Templars would need to be dealt with first.
Hawke waited with Cole and Anders while Alistair, Fenris and Varric entered the Pit. She watched in awe as Cole led Anders through tale after tale of his beloved cat. Each time the sounds of the battle all around them seeped into their hiding space, Cole would pull another memory to captivate Anders into another animated story. She hid her smile at the thought of Justice seething he could not enter the battle.
The truth was simpler. The Witcher was the one being Justice respected and, to some degree, feared. Cullen promised to find a way to separate Anders from his passenger and Justice hoped to prove he could remain by showing his capacity for restraint.
Elsewhere, Alistair and Fenris cut down any who stood in the way of their descent into the Pit. Varric hung back from the two as the confined space prevented him from effectively covering the others. He'd taken the tack of moving in stealth to assess each room and return to report his findings.
Alistair would demand Cullen's location from each Templar they found. Many were in varying stages of red lyrium poisoning and beyond help. Defiance or outright attack met with harsh words and quick steel. On two occasions Varric found himself separated from Alistair and Fenris. Follow the trail of blood, he told himself and in doing so would find his companions again. Varric lost count of the fallen after the first few dozen.
Cole jumped from the table he'd occupied for the last few hours. "They've found him, this way!" Cole opened the door and hurried towards the Pit urging Hawke and Anders to move quickly and follow him.
Hawke kept Cole in sight allowing Anders to follow with care to protect the precious vials Cullen would need. Cole continued to call to them to follow him. Hawke's disbelief at the Red Templar infestation in the Spire slowed her descent; not one body they passed was clear of red lyrium poisoning. She waited for Anders. "Look at all of them. Not one, not a single one is free from it. Who would do such a thing?"
Anders looked on the face of one of the fallen knights. He was young, but the unmistakable red veins snaking up his neck told Anders he'd been a party to the red perhaps from the beginning. Anders could hear shouting further up the passageway and urged her to keep going. "Let's find Cullen and leave this place." She nodded and led Anders towards the commotion.
Varric heard Alistair shout something he couldn't quite make out; both he and Fenris left him where he stood.
He heard his name called again from the opposite direction. "Varric!" He was sure it was Hawke and moved towards the sound of her voice. Cole guided Anders away from the commotion and asked him to make sure all the potion vials were unbroken.
"Not one, we can't lose a single one. Please check them." Cole urged Anders to check every vial. Hawke and Varric moved towards the large guard room to find Alistair and Fenris with the Knight-Commander backed into a corner.
The Knight-Commander spat his words in fear and loathing for those who dared take the Spire. "Ferelden has no meaning here. We may stand in Orlais, but the Empress has no more power than you. This place belongs to the Order." Alistair grabbed the Knight-Commander and shoved him against the wall.
"Do not take me for a fool. The next words from that corrupt tongue of yours will be the truth or I will end you." It was true, Alistair stood in Orlais and the Spire belonged to the Order but he did not care. "Where is the Witcher?"
The Knight-Commander glared. "I don't -"
Alistair drove his blade up through the knight's chest. He pushed the Templar's body from his sword and let it drop without remorse. "Bring me another!" Alistair's anger cut through the room.
Hawke paled. This was not the king she remembered. He'd been pushed too far, and she read the fury and determination on his face. He would kill every last man to get to Cullen.
"Oh shit." Varric turned to Hawke. "We need to find Curly and fast." Varric looked around the guard room. "Where's Blondie?"
Hawke shook free of her concerns. "Anders? He was there in the door-" Hawke turned around to see both Anders and Cole gone. "Oh come on! Are you telling me you and me are the only ones who haven't lost their minds?"
Varric nodded. "Scary, I know. But I've seen this side of Alistair before, Hawke. He won't stop." He shook his head. "Let's go. King Cleaver is out of bodies for now. Let's hope the Kid can keep Blondie focused while they're looking for Cullen."
Cole burst into the room and without a second glance at the bodies around him, he waived them to follow. Hawke called out when she spotted Anders ahead of them and continued on to the large cell. She stifled a moan at Cullen's appearance. Flakes of dried blood caked his face and the stench of earth and filth surprised her. She drew her mouth in a fake smile and hurried to help him.
"Ooh, don't you look pretty my friend," Hawke said, ducking under Cullen's shoulder to lift him with her own. "And what an enticing aroma; you need a bath . . . a few of them." She cringed. Her forced jovial tone and laughter was a sham for his benefit. She hoped Anders could help Cullen before they returned to Skyhold.
"Mm. . . Marion." Cullen tried to smile.
"Sweet talker - Cullen, you stink. That voice trick will not work." She called back to the passageway. "A little help here, Cole!"
Cullen shook his head. "No, Marion. He shouldn't see this."
Alistair was the first to reach the cell followed by Cole. The king's shoulders fell at the sight of Cullen and he quickly sheathed his sword. "Cole! The shackles if you would." Alistair took Cullen's right side and lifted him up to slacken the chains. "I'd say nice to see you again, old man, but you look horrible."
Hawke coughed. "Don't forget the smell."
"Hey. Tell you what, let's chain you up for a few weeks and see if you still smell fresh." Alistair continued. "Not everyone finds your wit and sarcasm appealing, Hawke."
Hawke groaned and lifted Cullen again to give Cole better access to the cuff on Cullen's left wrist. "I had to take up the slack for you while you were slaughtering Templars for fun, your Majesty."
Cullen winced as Alistair hoisted his body up for Cole to reach his wrist. "Alistair. Whatever happened to diplomacy and discussion?" Cullen's attempted humor was cut short by a sharp intake of breath. Cole set a chair for Cullen as Hawke and Alistair helped him sit. "I look worse than I am. Stop fussing," Cullen said.
Varric hurried in to the cell with Anders. "He's fine. We've got company."
"Give me a sword." Cullen pushed himself to stand and rolled his shoulders. Alistair caught the wince of pain as the left shoulder caught.
Anders pointed to the bench. "Not this time, Cullen. Marion and the others will take care of the Templars. I have your potions if you need them and that shoulder may be dislocated." Anders erected a barrier between them and the passage. Fenris would stand guard at the passageway leading to Cullen's cell. Anders winked and smiled. "All right kitty cat, let's get you cleaned up."
Cullen chuckled. "I'll humor you this time since you're helping me."
"You're lucky He likes you so much, Cullen. I won't lie; it's difficult to keep Him away," Anders offered as a pale glow emanated from his hands. "Tell me when you're ready."
Cullen felt the healing magic spread through him and the pain dulled. "Whenever you are."
Anders directed Cullen to lay as flat as he could on the large bench. "Anders, just pull it. This isn't the first time." Cullen bent his arm at the elbow and waited.
"Hey, Alistair! Leave a few for the rest of us!" Varric called out. Alistair battled two Templars with Cole. The pair worked well with the king sending his foe backwards into Cole whose strikes were quick and precise; they'd dispatched five of the corrupted Templars and advanced further up the passageway.
"Perhaps you should stop playing with toys and help, Varric!" Alistair continued his charge up the stairwell.
Varric shook his head and followed with Hawke right behind. "Keep your magic barrier on Alistair, Hawke - at least until we get out of the stairwells. I can't cover him at all!"
The next hour Anders spent healing Cullen. Fenris found Cullen's gear in the guard room and both helped him dress in his armor but Fenris refused to give Cullen his swords, instead fastening Cullen's harness to his own back.
"We should take the Witcher and return to the horses. The journey to Skyhold will be slow given his condition," Fenris stated. He hoped to push the horses to hasten their return. The king would be fine with Hawke, Varric and the boy.
Cullen took a moment to balance on his feet. His shoulder would heal soon enough, but Cullen's loyalties would not allow him to leave without Alistair. "No, it's time to end this."