Chapter 51: Before the Dawn

Months ago, Cullen had awoken to Evey's hands roaming over his body while she still dreamt in the Fade. Now it was her turn to wake up to Cullen's body yearning for hers.

He was lying just behind her, his body cradled against hers, her head resting on his arm. His hand rested close to her chest, the other draped over her waist, keeping her body flushed against him as he breathed so soft and peaceful on the back of her neck.

None of that had been what had awakened her though, but rather, something else entirely. By no stretch was this the first time she had felt the telltale swelling of manhood, not even in this particular setting, yet with Cullen, somehow she felt as if she was discovering new facets of herself, new feelings and sensations, in even known situations.

For a while, she wondered what she should do. She knew what she wanted to do, but she was also well aware of the stirring outside which reminded her that Vivienne and Varric were only a few steps away, and therefore would be able to hear every single sound if she were to react. Besides, she feared her companions would enter her tent anytime now to wake them, and if they found them like this, even without noticing the more "compromising" aspect of it all, she would never hear the end of it. After all, the only one that would be able to ignore this and move on would be Solas, and he was probably still wandering the Fade at this early hour, whereas Varric was outside in the presence of Vivienne, who was known to relegate minor tasks to others, and would probably send the dwarf to wake them. And what a treat would this be for the merchant prince. She was certain that before they'd even have time to cover themselves, the storyteller would be sending a new, scandalizing manuscript to his editor in Kirkwall.

-Cullen?- she whispered, hoping the others wouldn't hear.

For a couple of heartbeats, nothing changed, but once she repeated his name, Cullen at last acknowledged her. Only not in the way she was aiming for.

At the soft calling of his name, he pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair while he pressed his body to her, pushing his desire strongly against her backside. It was then that Evey felt the world swirl and was unable to refrain herself from arching her hips back, a soft sigh mixing with the barest moan she could muster. Cullen seemed to enjoy this even more, slipping his arms completely around her waist and pressing her further against him while groaning low, his lips caressing her neck and nuzzling behind her ears. Every sound coming from him reverberated in her mind and made her shiver, lust building in her body and making her feel so wonderfully dizzy.

It was then, when Evey was seriously considering forgetting that anything existed beyond this man and their tent, that her trembling breached the barrier of his muddled mind, and Cullen's whole body tensed. He remained there, frozen in place, their clothes the only barrier separating them from head to toe, while Cullen realized this was real and not just another dream where he'd let his desires flow freely, almost at the same time he noticed what had probably awoken her. In the span of the second that took him to wake up fully and pull away from her, his mind filled with a myriad of possibilities, a voice inside his head pointing out that she hadn't run, that she had also pushed back against him, moving her body to his rhythm in a dance to the slow song they were composing together. Still, he retreated, sitting quietly in the tent and doing his best to find a comfortable position, which seemed impossible so long as her presence continued to sing to his body in the way it had just a moment ago.

When her hand touched his forearm, he closed his eyes tightly, his teeth clenching and making a fist with the opposite hand to prevent him from reaching for her and betraying the conviction that had stopped him the night before from doing anything more than just holding her in his arms.

-Sorry. These things happen; there's nothing I can do.

He didn't sound embarrassed or angry, but more pragmatic, utilizing practically the same tone he'd use whenever he would report to her at the War Table. It wasn't entirely surprising; they were, after all, adults and old enough to be comfortable talking about their sexuality.

Only they weren't talking about it, and even though he seemed practical about it, he didn't appear willing to discuss it, either.

That didn't stop her from trying, though.

-You shouldn't...

-Please, let's forget about it,- he muttered, gathering his cloak and turning to look at her, his eyes immediately softening. Then he raised his hand and caressed her cheek lightly. -I'll go out first.

He took up his backpack and left the tent, leaving her alone to listen to him greet the others and walk away from camp with the excuse of washing himself before breakfast.

oOo

They were less than half a day's ride from the Shrine, so after they gathered their essentials, they rode at a steady pace to arrive somewhere around the afternoon.

The first part of their journey was the mostly relaxed, with everyone eyeing their surroundings carefully, but fully aware the possibility of crossing paths with Red Templars here was slim, especially considering Leliana's agents' reports stating they usually arrived at the Shrine from the east, whereas they were traveling from the west.

Vivienne was the only one that kept a composed yet disturbing silence the entire time. She still appeared extremely cold toward Blackwall, ignoring him even when he spoke specifically to her, raising her chin in superiority and just looking elsewhere.

The Warden, for his part, still had the piece of fabric jammed up his nose. Solas, who was now his usual stoic self, had forbidden him from removing it until he stated otherwise, and after the night he'd had thanks to the dwarf's challenge, Blackwall was more than willing to indulge him in his vengeance.

Varric's attention was split between observing the fallout from his work last night unfold, and speculating in silence about Evelyn and Cullen's night together. Sure, the Inquisitor said that Vivienne had welded her tent shut, preventing anyone else from sleeping there, but he was a storyteller. Even if romance stories weren't his forte, he recognized the fleeting glances that fluttered between the Commander and the Herald from time to time.

As for Cullen, he seemed contemplative. Whether it was over the upcoming battle, finally catching Samson, his relationship with Evelyn, or what had happened in their tent that morning, the Inquisitor couldn't tell, and as long as they rode together in close formation (a safety measure Cullen had insisted on), her doubt was bound to remain a mystery. Still, it wasn't in Evelyn's nature to just resign herself to fate and forget about something like that, but apparently it was Andraste's plan that she remain frustrated in that particular area, for when she tried to maneuver her horse between Cullen and Blackwall's with all the intention of luring him just far enough from the group to whisper without being heard, feigning a consultation about their strategy, the Warden decided to ask something that had apparently been nagging him since the night before.

-Solas?- he wondered absently, touching his nose without disturbing the fabric plug.

-Yes, Blackwall...

The Warden hesitated after that, almost as if he was having second thoughts about his question. By then, everyone in the Inner Circle knew that Blackwall was not a person who didn't cave to curiosity, so they all just waited, convinced that he would eventually give into it. This time though, it would have been better if he had simply refrained.

-...How many peanuts can you stick...

-Oh, fenedhis, I'm not going to play this absurd game of yours! Have you learned nothing from last night?!- Somewhere behind them, Vivienne made a noise that, strangely enough, seemed to support the elf's point. For once, they were in total agreement.

Varric, on the other hand, was more than willing to revisit the issue, and the dwarf's hoarse voice came from just behind the warrior.

-Yeah, don't ask him, Hero. Chuckles already has too many things jammed up all his orifices,- he ginned, shamelessly provoking the elf.

Varric, of course, was expecting Solas' typical response to his usual prodding, wherein the elf would straighten his back, raise his eyebrow inquisitively, and reduce his movements to a minimum, almost as if he were, in fact, a practitioner of that which Varric accused him of. Instead, and against all odds, Solas glanced back at the storyteller, an uncharacteristic glint of mischief in his eyes, and then responded to the Warden with a smile.

-...What are the stakes?

Evelyn leaned forward in her saddle, trying to look at Solas beyond Blackwall's frame.

-The stakes are "the fate of the world as we know it"- came the Warden's booming answer, the last words voiced in an ominous tone. Still, he received nothing but silence and a look that was more characteristic of the elf. -Just kidding. Fifty silver.

-You cannot be serious!- Vivienne fumed, practically drilling a hole in the elf's nape with her eyes, and after he didn't show signs of acknowledging her any time soon, Evelyn thought she heard her mumbling something about "uncivilized brutes".

While Solas was still considering Blackwall's offer, Varric intervened.

-You sure you want to do this, Hero? He'll probably fall back on magic. I still think he did when we played cards, last week.

As if the elf had not surprised them all enough, he chuckled.

-You wouldn't be the first to mistake skill for treachery. Or the last.

Despite Solas' retort, Varric's warning seemed to make Blackwall reconsider, while also shed some new light over Hawke's infamous feat.

-Wait a minute...- Varric's voice called everyone's attention, especially Cullen's, who thought the dwarf had spotted an enemy and immediately moved his hand to his hilt. -Shit. I think Hawke used magic the first time.- He raised his eyebrows in appreciation. -Huh. In front of a dozen templars… Ballsy move, pal.

The dwarf then took a pause, urging his horse forward between Blackwall and Evey.

-But just to be sure,- he leaned backwards to look at Cullen from behind Evelyn's back.- What do you think, Curly? Felt anything tingling with magic when Hawke won that bet?

Evey turned to look at Cullen just in time to see his nose wrinkle in disgust.

-I refuse to talk about tingling of any nature with you, Varric.- Then he looked back at the dwarf, sporting his best Commander face. -Last time we talked about something similar, every templar in Kirkwall read your little story.

From his place next to Varric, Blackwall chuckled.

-I'll have to read that.

-Meredith burnt them all,- was the dwarf's bitter reply, contrasting completely with Cullen's voice, which sounded grateful and almost devoted.

-Andraste be praised!

After that, either nobody remembered or cared about the fact that Solas had been on the verge of accepting Blackwall's challenge, the conversation between the Warden and the dwarf shifting to the contents of the story Meredith had made sure disappeared from the face of Thedas. He entertained everyone but Cullen with the scandalous tale of a young templar named Culbert, who had discovered that magic could make him feel more than just the weight of his righteous duty. It was exaggerated, extravagant and had twisted its original source so much that the only accurate part was the description of the tingling Varric had asked Cullen about back in Kirkwall, though the physical consequences of that feeling in the templar protagonist were so lewd that, if they were real, the association between templars and mages would have never worked. Still, "Culbert" was almost the spitting image of a young Cullen, and the Commander suddenly remembered bitterly how Meredith had looked at him after the story had spread through the barracks like wildfire, her eyes aflame with accusation, not even bothering to hide her barely contained rage. The Knight Commander was unable to outright blame him, considering the dwarf had at least had the decency to conceal the identity of his source of the perfect description of what a templar felt when a mage casted close to him under another name, which even though was similar to his own, was still different enough to give him the opportunity to defend himself.

True to himself, what had been published as a short story had now become a full series that grew longer with each mile they traversed, the dwarf expanding its universe and the complexity of Culbert's character to the point where Cullen hardly recognized him (or his own reflection in him), and he was grateful the dwarf had not put that much effort in the story back in Kirkwall.

Reality, though, had a way of always sneaking up on them before they noticed. Soon, Varric changed his tune and cut his story short faster than he'd even done.

-And then, right in the middle of the Harrowing... Oh, shit.

At first, everyone save Cullen thought the dwarf was simply voicing the part of the protagonist and was about to reveal an amazing twist in the story. That is, until they followed the dwarf's eyes to a destroyed caravan ahead of them, two corpses piled next to it like they were nothing of importance. And beyond that, almost a spec in the horizon, the outline of the fortress they were looking for.

Even at this distance, the Shrine of Dumat looked ominous, and effectively silenced all amicable chatting they had mantained thus far, a proverbial storm cloud over their heads.

They closed the distance to the Shrine in record time, wary of their surroundings but gaining speed as they drew closer, eager to catch the red templars with their guard down. As they approached, however, it became increasingly apparent that the fortress was abandoned. No one, not even a sentinel, warned of their advance, and by the time they reached the gates, Cullen's expectations had been destroyed. Yet, his training advised caution, and he made sure to tell that to the others, breaching the entrance in a perfect circle, watching each other's back in case of foul play.

The derelict fortress showed some sign of activity. All the rubble had been piled up through the courtyard and in some areas of the ramparts, suspiciously resembling barricades that boded nothing good, though the hardest evidence was the red templar banners hanging from the main building's wall, the remnants of campfires scattered in the middle of the yard and the half burned red tents from which dense smoke still plumed. But besides that and a few forgotten cases and boxes, the fortress seemed deserted, as if Samson's men had abandoned it in a haste, trying to burn everything left behind.

-This is it: the heart of Samson's command.

Cullen spoke softly, making sure only his companions could hear him in case there were hidden red templars further in the yard. At his words, the group halted, still in the entrance of the fortress, looking as far as their eyes could see to try to find out if there was someone waiting for them.

After just a couple of seconds, Evelyn voiced all their concerns.

-I don't see him anywhere. Or hear him... Or anyone else for that matter.

-Nor I,- answered Cullen in a harsh tone, only to soften it afterwards. -Maker, tell me he hasn't fled...

Samson might have fled, but soon they realized that, as they suspected, he had left a whole battalion of men behind. Some looked perfectly human, whereas others had clear signs of Red Lyrium corruption, but the ones that never failed to make Evelyn's skin crawl and Cullen's whole soul cry in agony were those whose humanity was as lost as Samson's loyalty to the Chantry.

More times than not, they were surrounded by red templar knights, shadows and horrors that fought mercilessly to keep them out of the fortress, and for a while Cullen wondered if they were defending Samson, still entrenched inside. But any speculation on his part stopped the moment a Red Templar horror tried to cut off Evey's path, the blades of sharp red lyrium that had once been the templar's arms and hands reaching for her, slicing the air dangerously close to where she stood.

After that, nothing else mattered but covering her, keeping her out of danger, but her fighting style, grounded more in flexibility and speed than in brute force that he could never dream of matching let alone anyone else when facing a red templar, made his task terribly difficult. She was constantly dodging attacks and leaping back and forth, even rushing to the flanks of her enemies to slice them apart with her dual daggers, and if they wouldn't have been in such a dangerous situation, Cullen would have stopped to admire her technique, fascinated by the grace of her movements. Instead, he concentrated on complementing her weak spots, standing in any place he thought could be perceived as a route to exploit and hurt her, and stepping forward whenever she moved back, their combined attack resulting in something akin to a perfect yet deadly dance that soon ended with them winded, but nevertheless victorious.

It wasn't until the second wave that Cullen actually feared for her life. They had defeated the guards standing in the courtyard and again, the fortress lay in silence. Checking that no one had been injured, they gathered any supplies they could salvage from their fallen enemies and moved on, Evelyn at the head of the team. When she opened the door, as if by blood magic, a behemoth stepped out, more lyrium than man, its strides cumbersome but long enough to nearly collide with Evelyn after just two steps, even if she was already retreating. Cullen's heart rose to his throat and his body acted on instinct, immediately standing between her and the monster, his arm dragging her behind him in a protective stance. But what his frightened mind didn't think was that she would risk her life for him as readily as he was willing to jeopardize his, and in the blink of an eye, he found her rushing behind the behemoth and burying her daggers in the red lyrium crystals that covered the beast's back.

Just because they weren't involved romantically with Evelyn didn't mean her other companions were about to just stand and watch how the couple fared in battle, so it was no surprise that just a moment later Blackwall joined them on the frontline while Varric, Solas, and Vivienne riddled the behemoth with both bolts and magic until there was nothing left of the creature but the glowing remnants of what once had been a man.

After that, things didn't get any easier. Bunkered inside was the bulk of Samson's soldiers, waiting in their positions, not even charging ahead after they were clearly visible, keeping their spot as if they had been instructed to die rather than be lured to a trap by leaving their post. So, it ended up being their job to clear a path for themselves, leaving a trail of dead men behind them, their bodies scattered through the fortress or rolling to the burning lower levels once they fell against a railing that was too weakened by the fire below.

They trotted through the galleries without so much as a spared glance for their surroundings, worried only with the enemies ahead of them, the safety of their companions, and the hope of finding Samson at the end of the fortress.

But the General of the Red Templars was nothing if not a sneaky bastard, a concept that was about to be strongly reinforced in each of their minds.

When the group entered the last room, they found several red lyrium veins dominating what looked to once have been someone's private quarters. There was a grand table in the middle filled with scattered papers, half filled pitchers, sconces, maps and a mess of reports everywhere, all framed by red lyrium crystals so big that they could have easily rivaled the ones they had found in Sahrnia's quarry, only these where filling a closed room, surrounding them completely.

But none of that registered in their minds beyond the initial surprise, for when they descended the main stairs, all their eyes focused on the man dressed in mage robes sitting on the floor, resting disturbingly close to the largest red lyrium crystal in the room, holding his right side with his left hand as if closing a bleeding wound, despite the fact that there was no blood visible. Even though a twitching in his hand proved he was in pain, nothing else in his demeanor betrayed this, his face looking almost peaceful, and his voice as flat and monotone as was expected from someone marked with the cold and unforgiving sign of the Chantry's sunburst in their forehead.

Slowly, cautiously even, after the man in front of them appeared to pose no threat, Cullen and Evey approached until they were standing on either side of the tranquil.

-Hello, Inquisitor,- the impassive man said, looking straight to Evelyn, something in his voice almost indicating a familiarity that they had never shared.

-You know me?

Though the question was directed at the mage, it was Cullen who answered, kneeling next to the man and meeting his eyes.

-It's Maddox, Samson's tranquil…- Then his eyes briefly glanced her way, only to turn again to the man in front of him, his voice dire. - Something's wrong. I'll send for the healers.

But before he could rise, the mage's serene voice stopped him in his tracks.

-That would be a waste, Knight Captain Cullen.- The mere mention of his previous title made Cullen flinch. -I drank my entire supply of blightcap essence. It won't be long now.

Evelyn's spirit sank at the mage's words. He was telling the truth. She still remembered the herbalist in the Chantry warning everyone not to touch the three varieties of fungi that normally carried the darkspawn's corruption, for even if they couldn't transmit the disease, the trait made them extremely poisonous. They could force the man to drink all their supply of health potions, strike him repeatedly with healing spells, and make him chew elfroot, and still watch him inevitably die.

-We only wanted to ask you questions, Maddox,- she said sincerely.

She, or anyone else in the Inquisition, had nothing against the Tranquil, and they had only come here to either kill Samson or look for answers that might lead them to him. The mage didn't seem to care for the kindness they had been willing to offer, and when Evelyn tried to explain what they were there for, he just looked at her, as phlegmatic as was characteristic of his kind.

-Yes. That is what I could not allow. I destroyed the camp with fire,- he added in the same unemotional tone one would use when reading off a list of ingredients. -We all agreed it was best. Our deaths ensured that Samson had time to escape.

He talked about his approaching demise as something unimportant, only one more of his unending responsibilities, the task as exciting as anything ever was for tranquils.

Cullen's voice, in turn, sounded the exact opposite, his rage and indignation rising with every word and every cold, heartless revelation.

-Your threw your lives away?- His brow creased. -For Samson?- The incredulity in his tone was only mirroring everyone else's feelings on the matter. -Why?

But the Commander's incensed and passionate words did not reach the mage, who once again answered as stoically as ever.

-Samson saved me even before he needed me. He gave me purpose again.

By the look of it, something inside Cullen broke at that, as if the mage had stabbed him in his heart.

Such loyalty to someone so despicable… Such need to feel oneself useful again… The Chantry thought tranquility stripped mages of their emotions, and for the better part of it they were right, but some, the deepest more meaningful ones, seemed to linger somehow. And that made Evey's throat constrict, as if Samson were there with his hands around her neck, trying to extinguish the life inside her.

The feeling only got worse when Maddox's voice became softer, his life escaping alongside his last words and breaths.

-I... wanted to help...

As the tranquil's head fell lifeless against his chest, Cullen's mimicked it, shaking it in remorse, regretting Maddox's fate. Then, with a last look at the mage as he set him down gently on the floor, he stood and turned to Evelyn.

-We should check the camp. Maddox may have missed something.

They did just that, splitting in pairs to search for the dozens of papers scattered over the floor and tables, searching for something that might give them a clue of where Samson had gone.

With each second, though, Cullen's spirit fell ever downward, the weight on his shoulders burdening him more than ever, affecting even his usual confident gait. Still, this was no place to stop and talk, and though Evelyn felt her own heart breaking at the sight of him so discouraged, she remained silent, searching the room by his side, hoping that, for now, her presence would be enough comfort.

While the others went through the papers on the desk, she and Cullen walked to the back of the room where a double bed with a giant red lyrium crystal on its footboard and the red templar banner at its head, laid forgotten and disarranged, surrounded by what seemed enough bottles of red lyrium to poison each and every one of them.

-Lyrium bottles. Licked cleaned.

Her companions were there the second Cullen stopped talking, looking at the bottles as if their presence presaged the ominous warning that Evelyn's mind was already screaming inside her head.

-Drinking it, wearing it, growing it... You can't say Samson isn't committed.

By the tone he used, none of them would have been able to say whether Varric was trying to lift their spirits by joking, or was genuinely concerned for what the bottles might portend. The reality was probably a disturbing mix of both those sentiments.

-How much red lyrium is Samson taking? His resistance must be extraordinary.

Cullen's reflection worried them all, and the silence that fell over them became oppressive until Vivienne broke it.

-Commander, this seemed to be addressed to you,- she said, delivering a piece of parchment.

Everyone held their breaths, waiting for Cullen's explanation.

-Samson left a message. For me?

-Someone must have tipped him off you were coming,- said Varric, voicing what they were all thinking.

-I think you are right.- Cullen's answer sounded absent, his eyes devouring each line of Samson's letter. Evey walked closer to him, not wanting to pry, but resting her hand on his forearm nevertheless.

-What does it say?

-"Drink enough lyrium, and it's song reveals the truth"...- Cullen began to read. -"The chantry used us. You're fighting the wrong battle."- He raised an eyebrow and grimaced to show everyone what he thought of Samson's words. -"Corypheus chose me as his general, and his vessel of power." And other such nonsense,- he snorted. -As if I would sympathize.

Evey smiled softly at him.

-We should look in the other rooms.

Everyone began to walk away from there, but Cullen rushed to the back again, grabbed the bed's coverlet and placed it over Maddox's body reverently, sparing a moment for one last look.

When Evelyn approached, he spoke softly, his words only for her.

-A dismal place to die. It can't have been much of a place to live, either, under Samson's command.

She walked closer, and placed a hand on his arm.

-We can't leave him here. He should be properly laid to rest.

Cullen turned, taking her hand in his, smiling softly at her and thanking her with his eyes.

-I'll have someone take care of it. If even Samson did his best for Maddox, we can do no less.- He then raised his hand to her neck, brushing her cheek with his thumb.

-Inquisitor?- Blackwall's voice stopped Cullen from whatever he was about to say, and they both stepped back and turned to look at the Warden. -Solas found something.

Leaving Maddox's body there until some of their soldiers could come to pick him up, they followed Blackwall to the next room, where all the group were leaning over a weathered table filled with handmade tools, forgotten pieces of armory, and a load of papers. They had passed by this room on their way to Maddox, but they hadn't looked beyond the enemies ahead. Now, Evelyn saw a burning bedroll in the corner next to two more tables filled with essential things: pots, water pitchers, covers, books, candles, and writing materials. This must have been Maddox's room.

-The fire couldn't destroy these entirely. Whatever they are.

Solas was the one that answered Cullen, explaining to all of them why this discovery was important.

-They are implements for working with lyrium safely.- The elf took one in his hand and turned it to look at it from every possible angle. -The craftsmanship is remarkable.

This time it was the Commander who shed some light over the mystery of the tools.

-Tranquil often design their own tools. Dagna should be able to make sense of them,- he reasoned while gathering them all and putting them in his bag.- If Maddox used this to make Samson's armor, she could use them to unmake it.- And then, almost whispering, he added, -We have him.

After that, they all agreed that they had pushed their luck by staying in the dilapidated and half burning building for far too long and, hoping their soldiers could come back to recover Maddox's body safely, they began to walk to the main gate.

The next room was deserted, only the corpses of the many templars they had killed on their way waiting for them, silently witnessing how part of Samson's empire was already crumbling, simply by the knowledge they carried in the evidence they had gathered.

In retrospect, perhaps that knowledge, that drunken feeling of power and relief that had filled them all at knowing they might have been carrying the harbinger of Samson's doom, might have been what made them so reckless in the moment.

But after it happened, no reasoning had offered any semblance of comfort, nor a means to stifle Evelyn's tears, for the moment Cullen stepped out of the main building with the rest of them shortly behind him, a lone Red Templar attacked.

For the small second that it lasted, Evelyn's world stopped and crashed, her body responding even before she could fully digest the scene playing out before her, making her scream his name and rush toward him, her hand in the air subconsciously calling out to the anchor until she tore open a rift in the Fade, her daggers somehow already in her hands.

As soon as the rift opened, it began to suck away the life of the enemy, but it was Evey who severed it, burying her daggers in the man's chest even as he was falling to the floor.

The only problem was that as the man fell, so did Cullen.