A blood curdled scream echoed throughout the cave, a horrific sobbing of distress that resonated and bounced against the dull blue jagged stones, intensifying as it permeated the chasm and filled the empty spaces.

Head clutched in his hands, body twitching every few seconds, Jowan refused to open his eyes. The cave was pitch black yet he craved for it to be darker. The sound of a woman crying came beside him, the soft shuffle of hands against the dusty ground, she desperately searched for him in the pitch blackness. It mattered not to Jowan, for he did not care to comfort or reassure. There was nothing in his mind except the sorrowful abyss he was falling helplessly into, waiting to be embraced at the bottom by the deathly arms of grief.

'Jowan?' whispered a meek voice beside him 'Jowan, are you there?'

'Do not speak to me.' he muttered, knees falling onto the cold dirt floor as his head fell forward in defeat.

Hours passed as the mage remained still, existing but not living, somewhere between life and death where all the thoughts of his existence flocked to torment him. He remembered everything. Although he begged them to stop, and the voices laughed at him in mockery, only replaced every now and then by the fearful whisper of Josephine calling out to him. Each time he simply told her to be quiet.

Silence…

Lily had filled Jowan's thoughts every waking moment since he had fled from the Ferelden Circle as a nineteen year old mage. Every day he had thought of her, for there was no words to describe his love for the woman. A woman who loved him unconditionally. She was an angel. To Jowan, Lily had been his radiating light in a tower full of fear.

While he was still living at the Kinloch Hold, he received information that his life was in danger by the templars at the circle. On suspicion of his practice of blood magic, he knew they would come for him soon. Jowan had broken down on the cold marble floor in the library that day, a distraught man in desperate fear of his life knowing he had been found out. Forever he would have remained on that floor, melting into the stone, surrendering to his fate that awaited him at the tip of a cold steel blade. However it was Lily who picked him off that floor and told him she would find a way to save him. With tears in his eyes he had told Lily it was okay, he would go to his death for there was no escape for a mage in the tower. Lily simply kissed Jowan's cheek and told him even if he gave up she never would. She vowed she would help him escape and they would be together, forever.

With the help of Sierra Amell, the three of them broke into the room where the mage's phylacteries were kept. Once Jowan had destroyed his he would be able to located when he escaped. After Jowan and Lily had destroyed his phylactery they tried to escape only to be discovered by Knight-Commander Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving. Greagoir immediately sentenced Jowan to death and Lily to Aeonar, and it was then that Jowan's hand was forced. He knew there was no other way. There was only one way to save them both, and it was there in the Ferelden Circle Tower that Jowan performed blood magic to protect her. The look on her face when she witnessed him perform the blood spell had haunted him to this very day. Jowan had witnessed the very moment her love had transformed into repulsion. Lily refused to flee with Jowan and choose to accept her punishment instead.

Jowan fled in desperation and soon became tangled up in the web of Loghain Mac Tir. Before Jowan knew it, he had been locked up in the Redcliffe Castle dungeon, and it was there that Sierra Amell had found and released him. His friend told him about Lily's fate, but they both predicted that she would not stay long in Aeonar. Lily was a chantry initiate, not a mage, and she hadn't cast magic. She had no place in a mage prison, and Jowan knew she would have been released soon enough. Perhaps Lily hated Jowan for what he done, but at least she was alive out there somewhere in Thedas. Living perhaps in a small cottage on the side of a seaside cliff, where she would look out on the stormiest of days and think upon the brief moment they shared together. Surrounding perhaps with bairns of her own, and a husband that loved her dearly. Lily was living a life of happiness. That is what Jowan told himself.

Jowan clenched his eyes tighter, trying to force out the truth as beads of cold sweat trickled down his brow. That comforting story in his head that he foolishly entertained was nothing but a fabrication. A falsity. A foul fictitious tale. For the reality was much harder to digest now that it presented itself in its hideous form. Cullen revealed the truth and it disgusted the mage. Jowan had led the love of his life to her death, and she had died alone in that mage prison. It was his fault, and his alone.

Tears welled in his black eyes, like soft rain on a millpond in the middle of night, as he obsessively twisted at the leather braid around his wrist. Green and cream strips twisted and knotted together, it was the one keepsake his love had bestowed upon him as they met in the chantry room of worship in secret, nestled in the corner in excited hushed whispers and stolen kisses. Jowan had never taken it off his arm over the years and he kept it there as a reminder of her. His Lily, his sweet, sweet Lily.

Cold fingers of bone ran shivers down his spine, as if her dead corpse stroked him from the grave. Her tender cheek, skin like fresh milk from the pail, her brilliant auburn hair that was soft as lamb's wool in spring, that he stroked tirelessly and made her scrunch her nose in annoyance as it tangled with knots. All of that was now decaying in the ground, and her lifeless bones scattered. Did they even bury her? Was she given her last rites, or did the templars merely dump her lifeless body in an unmarked grave? Or did they purge her with fire and transform her to ashes, scattered to the breeze, her death the only moment she found freedom from that disgusting place?

'Jowan?' called out the female voice again.

Drawing his hand into a cup, a soft blue light radiated from his palm, and filled the cave in a gentle glow. Jowan sat there catatonically with his hand outstretched, a sad lifeless puppet in a theatre of the macabre. The mage's face was long and his eyes were dark and heavy. He was a vessel of hopelessness and despair.

As the light filled the area, their eyes adjusted to a well supplied and richly furnished hideaway rather than a mere cave. A superior alchemists table surrounded by eight large wooden bookshelves filled with tomes resided at one end of the cave, while at the other end was a large wooden table laden with pots and pans. Shelves on the wall revealed glass jars with condiments, bottles filled with seeds and herbs, dried fruits and spices. Another large wooden round table and chairs sat beside the kitchen area, a pleasant glow of white stone radiating on the ceiling that would have made an enjoyable place to sit and eat. In the middle of the cave lay a beautiful embroidered large black and purple rug, and an ornate blue and gold Orlesian chair on top of it, surrounded by piles of well read books scattered on the ground.

'Jowan?' murmured Josephine, running her eyes nervously around the cave 'Where are we?'

The mage remained as still as a statue, staring blankly in front of him, the empty void of his mind extending into the empty void of the dark cave before him.

'I cannot see her.' he obsereved flatly, although it was a statement not directed to Josephine. 'Her face was so clear to me. Why am I finding it hard to remember her face now? I must live knowing I will never see her face again. She is gone from me, and I am bound to this foul existence to play out the horror of her final years over and over again in my head.'

'Jowan-' began the Antivan remorsefully.

'To use her death as a mockery?' he continued furiously. Jowan's breathing grew ragged. Looking up sharply, he threw a fierce gaze towards Josephine. 'You were after Cullen? Was he the reason for the summoning?'

Miserably Josephine dragged her fingers heavily through her hair, pulling at the dark strands in torment. 'Please I cannot speak about him.'

'Cullen.' hissed Jowan in disgust, lifting his black eyes to meet the Antivan. 'That pleb. Do you see his vileness now? Tell me you see that?!'

Tear falling down her cheeks, Josephine began to weep uncontrollably before wiping her face with her sleeve angrily. 'He deceived me. He embraced me and said he felt nothing for Ophelia. It was all a lie. All of it.'

Jowan sighed, somewhat relieved that his companion was not entirely delusional. 'How I wish he deceived me with his fouls words.' he murmured 'I fear he did not deceive me.'

'Jowan I'm so sorry about Lily.' began Josephine.

'Do not-' snapped Jowan, clutching his fist in fury before it began to shake uncontrollably, He withdrew it hastily back into his black robes. 'Do not mock me with your insincere words of sympathy. I spit on your words. You did not know her and you mean nothing to me. Keep your words. Lily is dead and the templars let it happen. Templars like Cullen.'

Josephine remained quiet, her eyes to the ground.

'He needs to pay. The templars need to pay.' murmured Jowan 'To suffer as Lily did. It will be then, and only then, that her spirit will be free.'

The Antivan looked fearfully to the maleficar 'But-but-but Cullen didn't kill Lily?!'

'You defend him even now.' scorned Jowan 'Look at your face, all bloody and bruised. Tell me why you are defending him? He wanted you dead.'

Josephine began to cry. 'He tricked me into thinking he desired me. I see it now was a trap to lead me to you.'

'Of course he did.' muttered the mage, easing himself off the floor 'Your weakness was your undoing. Remember that, now that you have a second chance in this world. That lesson could save your life.'

Making his way around the large cavern, the mage began to light the lamps and candles. Several cast iron candelabras were located in each corner of the cave, and Jowan effortlessly brought light to them all, the room brightening until it resembled a luminous and homely abode rather than a murky dwelling in a cave.

'What is this place?' asked Josephine as she continued to study the room apprehensively.

Wearily Jowan made his way to the Orlesian chair in the centre of the room and eased into it, a heavy sigh departing from his lips as his head rested on the soft fabric. 'My home away from home. My mouse hole tucked away in a labyrinth of shadows.'

'Are we in Ferelden?'

Jowan raised an amused eyebrow 'We are not in Thedas. We are in another realm, one that I discovered a very long time ago...when all was lost and hope was gone. A demon aided me and led me here, and the place has served me rather well since then.'

'Demons?' shuddered Josephine, looking more and more terrified. 'Please I must return home.'

'And where is that exactly?' snapped Jowan irritably 'To Skyhold? Or to wherever that annoying little accent of yours bids you home?'. He raised his eyes darkly towards her 'You don't have a home when you''re being hunted. Welcome to the life of a maleficar.'

'But I didn't-'

'Consort with a blood mage to hurt the Inquisition?' quipped Jowan 'I do hope they believe your evangelistic pleas, instead of choke on them as I am trying not to do right now.'

'He's ruined me.' she cried out in horror 'Cullen's ruined me and disgraced my name.'

'Then stop crying and do something about it.' snapped Jowan 'Help me destroy him and the templars. Pull him to pieces and perhaps, just perhaps, we will find some peace in our miserable state.'

Josephine shook her head violently. 'I can't kill something I love. I love Cullen and the Inquisition.'

'Do not insult the concept of love by claiming such.' scorned Jowan 'Besides, I didn't say kill Cullen. Cullen's death would not satisfy me, nor would it ensure our freedom. We need more than death. A way to gain the upper hand. To gain control. We need the Inquisition to become the Inquisition.'

'You seek power?' remarked Josephine fearfully 'That kind is impossible. You cannot use the Inquisition for your own purposes.'

The mage grew silent, his fingers pressed against each other as he delved into his thoughts. 'Is this the moment they spoke of?' asked Jowan to himself 'Perhaps? No surely...but then again it could be? How did I not see this before? When all is dark and you are surrounded, the searing pain will force you to rise from the ashes into a sea of red.. I thought they were referring to blood, but perhaps it was red lyrium?'

'What-what does that mean?' asked Josephine precariously 'What are you talking about?

Jowan waved off the question 'You wouldn't understand. It is a prophecy I was given many years ago by a spirit much older than anything you could imagine. It knew my destiny the moment it laid eyes on me, and even that great spirit was overwhelmed by the revelation.'It feared me and what I was to become.'. Frowning, he strummed his fingers against the wooden armrest of the chair. 'Yes...perhaps this is it? The demon army serves him, so why shouldn't I?'

'Demon army?' asked Josephine, growing more and more uneasy.

Jowan pulled his attention back to his companion with a smirk. 'Do you believe in destiny, Josephine? What do you think I ve been doing since I fled the Ferelden Tower? I have lived with the demons and I have listened to their song and danced to their tunes, learned their lessons, and milked their strength. They saw the potential in me and they trained me'in the dark ways. They told me there would come a time when I would be called, and that I would know when it was the hour of my accent. You are going to help me, as you promised to do so in my hut.'

'What destiny?' stammered the Antivan fearfully.

Jowan threw her a knowing smile. 'I have known about the Elder One for quite some time. Many years ago they spoke about him, and the part they would play in his ascension.'

'You mean Corypheus? Who spoke about him?' asked Josephine, a look of utter confusion at Jowan's comments.

Jowan sighed heavily in frustration 'The demons. Demons Josephine, demons. The Elder One has hundreds of them. A demon army at his disposal.'

Josephine stared wide eyed and fearful at the mage, and Jowan nodded.

'Yes, that's right.' he smirked 'Now you, ambassador, are going to aid the other side.'

'What can I do? I am disgraced.' she replied hastily.

'You need to return to Skyhold while I make an audience with the Red Templars. We are going to feed them information from the Inquisition, and in turn give it to Corypheus himself. In exchange we shall take control of the Inquisition, and bring down the Inquisitor and the members of the council one by one, until we can claim it for ourselves.'

'You would work with the templars?' she replied in confusion 'You hate them.'

'Yes, and in time I will find a way to kill them.' he informed 'I need power to do that, something I lack at present.'

'That plan is madness' scoffed Josephine, shaking her head towards Jowan as if to appeal to his senses.

'Madness is what transforms mere mortals into gods.' he observed, a dark smile on his lips.

Josephine shook her head. 'Your path is different from mine. I cannot empathise with such hatred. I do not want to see the realm crumble at my feet.'

'There is a fine line between love and hate, all you need is a push.' muttered Jowan as he stood up, outstretching his hand towards her 'Come and see, and clarity shall be yours.'

Pulling her up gently, Jowan approached a standing mirror nestled between two wooden bookshelves in the corner of the cave. The mirror looked very old, an oval looking glass gilded in heavy gold with lion claw feet. Waving a hand over the glass, Jowan muttered a few words as the surface began to shimmer and glaze, like cold ice.

An image presented in the frame, but it was not of Jowan and Josephine. Instead it was of Cullen and the Inquisitor at the war table with Cassandra and Leliana, their image fading in and out and then becoming sharper as Josephine focused on the glass.

'Look at them, all jovial and back to work with you out of the picture.' reproached Jowan 'Does it surprise you that no one looks even a little forlorn? Look at Cullen. While you are here drowning in misery he smiles and reigns like a king in that keep. Cullen couldn't care less as to what has happened to you. To all of them, your time is over.'

Her brown eyes darted from member to member, the cheerfulness piercing her heart like a sharp blade. Jowan nodded as Josephine turned her eyes coldly from the looking glass.

'Why would Corypheus care about appeasing us?' asked Josephine softly 'If we offer to help, why would he agree to work with us?'

'He wants the Inquisitor dead more than anything.' replied Jowan 'We can lead the Inquisitor and the counsel to their demise, but not the Inquisition. We can take hold of that power across the realm. The people fear Corypheus and the Red Templars, well what if they didn't have to fear them because they were on our side?'

'How could that be?'

'Corypheus, like any other master, has his subjects. He rewards his subjects.' informed Jowan 'Let us become one of his subjects and fall under his protection.'

'The Inquisitor and Dorian went into the future and saw what would happen if Corypheus had control over the realm.' warned the Antivan fearfully 'The sky was full of rifts and red lyrium had corrupted everyone. The people of Ferelden were dead.'

Jowan sighed 'That is because they resisted Corypheus. If we work for him we can decide our own fate, a fate better than that. Think about it? While the Elder One rules from the Golden City we will rule the people of Thedas. Would you spend out the rest of your days in poverty and waiting for death, or rise to the occasion and live like a queen? A queen that could rule over a realm that adores her, not like it is now with suffering and death, but flourishing. You would be their saviour, Josephine. Your name would be the greatest in the lands. Bards would write songs about you and the men and women would toast your name.'

Jowan smiled to himself as he turned to grab a tome off the shelf, idly flicking through the pages as his companion mulled over the concept. Perhaps it was the many years spent in the company of desire demons, but the mage had a knack of knowing a person's weakness, and he knew he had found Jospehine's.

'They would never have us back there at the Inquisition.'

With a grin, Jowan replied 'Not looking the way we do. No.'

Josephine frowned as the mage nodded.

'Yes, like that.' he whispered wickedly.

'It is impossible for a human to change into another form.' stammered Josephine Ít cannot be done.'

'There is a rite I once learned from an old desire demon called Yiluan, a desire demon who enjoyed changing appearance every week or so to avoid getting caught. The rite is advanced and I doubt there are many who could perform it, but I believe I am capable. All we need are two souls.'

'Souls?' she whispered 'We must...kill them?'

'Naturally.' replied Jowan 'How else are we to take their form?'

'And this would allow us to return to Skyhold?' inquired Josephine. She revealed an excited, albeit small, curl on her lip. 'We could return undetected?'

'Naturally.' smiled Jowan 'A fresh start in Skyhold could do us both a world of good. Who knows, perhaps even a fresh start with Cullen in due course? Or maybe a cage that he can sit in for ten years as your little prisoner. I care not, as long as vengeance is finally served. I will ensure he sees his love suffer and die in due course and I will revel in that.'

Josephine looked curious at the mention of Cullen's love. 'So I could keep him? Do whatever I wanted?'

'Just so.' confirmed Jowan, taking care not to laugh out loud at the obvious weakness of Josephine. It would be easy enough to rid himself of the Antivan later down the track, but for now Jowan needed her, despite his loathing. 'Come now.' he added with a reassuring smile, pulling her away from the mirror 'We have much to do and little time to do it.'

'A serving girl told me a thousand candles have been lit in the hall tonight.' informed Leliana in a dreamy bard's voice 'Like a sky full of stars that we have created, mortal gods waving our magic. For who could argue there is any greater beauty than the wild flicker of flame illuminating our small and insignificant moment on life's grand stage?'

'You need to come fight a few rage demons with us, Nightingale.' chuckled Varric 'That'd change your mind about the whole fire fascination thing.'

The main hall at Skyhold was brimming with people that evening. Men and women sat at the many long wooden banqueting tables laden with warm breads, salted olives, steaming meats of ram and pheasant, walnuts, figs stuffed with cheese, and jugs of sweet wine. It was a small but lively feast to celebrate the final day of summer, a tradition upheld across Ferelden. Offerings were made for a good autumn harvest, and the people were hopeful of a promising year ahead of them. There was a sanguine energy in Skyhold, and it was a positive sign of days to come.

At the back of the hall, a large of group of the Inquisition members sat around a sturdy oak table, including the Commander and myself. It had been a long time since wed all been united together for a meal, and as a result we were more than a little full of festive cheer.

Goblet of wine in one hand, and an arm lingering across the back of me, Cullen drew his lips to my neck.

'Can we leave yet?' he whispered devilishly 'I have this insatiable hunger.'

Breathing warm air on my skin, his lips lingered for a moment before pulling away with a smirk. A few cheers and festive taunts sounded across from a nearby table as the leering eyes of Skyhold noted the public display of affection between the Commander to the Inquisitor. Cullen laughed loudly, taking a sip of wine before turning back to me.

'I thought you didn't like gossip?' I accused, playfully nudging him with my elbow.

Cullen laughed. 'Inquisitor don't you know me at all? I love positively love it!'

'You joke, but I'm beginning to think you do Commander. Anyway considering we just arrived at the hall we can't really leave,' I grinned 'unless you give cause for further gossip. And dinner has just been served so you wont be hungry for long.'

Locking into my eyes, Cullen took another deep sip of wine, the lump on his throat bulging as he swallowed. 'That is not what I hunger for.' he replied with a wicked smile, pressing his wine tainted lips on mine for a deep kiss.

'Ugh. Can someone pass that jug of ale over here?' asked Cassandra in disgust 'I fear reaching my hand between those two.'

'You could have just asked?' I grinned, pushing the jug across the table.

'I have...eight times already.' replied the Seeker dryly.

'Oh Cassandra who are we to scorn affection?' observed Leliana, running her green eyes around the table with cheer. 'Like the sweet call of the first warm breeze of spring, it comes and goes as it pleases. It can easily flourish like a flower growing in the heat of the sun, or it can be frozen like ice in a heart of stone. Infatuation will float away like a wisp of cloud, but true love will draw vibrant like a prick of a rose drawing one perfect drop of blood.'

'Or it can be savage and merciless, like my stone cock fucking you relentlessly.' whispered Cullen wickedly in my ear.

Stifling a laugh, I kicked the Commander under the table as he continued to grin deviously at me.

'You're a poet.' I observed sarcastically.

Turning to Leliana, Cullen pointed at the spymaster's cup with a grin. 'Speaking of poets, just how much have you had tonight?' he teased 'I haven't heard the bard in you come out in years. And yet here you are, all candles and blood from roses.'

Tapping her goblet with a slight drunken grin, Leliana nodded in encouragement. 'Idle hands make good for pouring wine, Cullen. Get me another and that is an order.'

'Your wish is my command.' chuckled Cullen, standing up to retrieve the wine jug from the other end of the table.

Blackwall eyed the Commander walking by, only to turn to me with a curious look. 'So, you and Cullen? Not that it's my business but I find it an interesting match. Mage and templar. Inquisitor and Commander.'

'The Inquisition has brought stranger people together, no?' shrugged Leliana, not talking to anyone in particular but very adamant in her sentiments. The bard brought her eyes gleefully towards Varric and Cassandra who were sitting next to each other, now busily chatting away as if there was no other person in the room.

I smiled to myself as I noticed the way Cassandra laughed and covered her mouth as Varric whispered something to her, their hands touching each other in secret under the table, something I had noticed when I had clumsily dropped my bread roll moments before.

With jug in hand, Cullen returned to his seat and poured into several empty goblets surrounding him. Grabbing Leliana's cup, he poured it mischievously right to the top so she couldn't move it without spilling the wine. 'There you go, nice and full.'

'Jokes on you, I'm a woman of many talents.' shrugged the spymaster. Bending over, she lapped away at the wine goblet like a cat as it sat on the table, causing the Commander to laugh even louder.

My eyes darted to the other end of the table where a pair of deep blue eyes suddenly flashed into mine for a moment, before turning away. My heart skipped a beat as I tried to distract myself by sculling the rather full contents of my chalice, spilling several crimson drops on myself.

Cullen's eyes ran over me, before turning to examine Michel de Chevin, who made the unfortunate decision to look at me once more.

'He's been staring at you all night.' obsereved the Commander with an amused look on his face, turning to see me fumble about with the bread and cheese on my plate. Even in a room full of loud voices, I felt the painful sting of silence as Cullen waited for an acknowledgment.

'Has he now?' I replied hastily, pouring more wine into my cup.

'You seem nervous? Good girls shouldn't be nervous.' observed Cullen, his voice low and stern. A voice that I had the pleasure of entertaining behind closed doors, and to my somewhat shame made me quiver with excitement.

Biting my lip, I turned to Cullen with a meek smile 'Wine?'. His amber eyes held my attention sternly and I sighed, rolling my eyes. 'Why do you assume he's looking at me? Who's to say Michel wasn't looking at you?'

'If Michel de Chevin is looking at me like that I have greater issues to contend with than just Corypheus.' scoffed Cullen 'I have that nagging sensation that I'm not privy to something here?'

Looking at him almost desperately, I ran my hand to stroke the base of his neck, feeling his soft sandy curls through my fingers. 'Do you really want to talk about this now? At dinner? In front of leering ears.'. I nudged my head towards Varric, who was shamelessly eavesdropping on us, a smug grin on his face.

Thankfully at that very moment Cullen's attention was diverted by a messenger, a cloaked man presenting a letter stamped with a rather impressive looking seal.

'Commander, word from Denerim.' announced the man.

'Maker's Breath.' sighed Cullen, standing up from his chair. 'Forgive me, I shall return.'

As Cullen left I had the misfortune of a grinning dwarf sidling up to me. There was no escape.

'That whole Goldilocks issue still chewing away at him, isn't it?' asked an amused Varric 'I never knew I was partial to facial expressions but the scowl on Curly's face when he sees you and Goldilocks in the same room is inspirational! Bards will be singing about it for years to come!'

'How about we talk less about Michel and more about you and Cassandra?' I taunted, taking delight in the ever so slight tinge on Varric's cheeks now forming 'You both seemed very deep in conversation over there?'

'Okay new subject.' muttered Varric, shoving back to his old seat as Cassandra made her way back to the table.

'Michel de Chevin needs a woman.' obsereved Vivienne. She had been listening intently from across with table while sipping a glass of fine green liqueur that I was certain wasn't from the old brown jug in front of her.

'Or a superbly dressed Tevinter man?' added Dorian, throwing a lusty gaze over towards the ex-chevalier 'They say Orlesian men like it both ways. I have it on good authority.'

'Well between the two of you I'm sure our Maister of Blades will have nothing to worry about.' I scoffed. Grinning, I added 'Dorian, I noticed that messenger Will spending more and more time in the library these days? Often without a message?'

'Naturally.' shrugged the mage 'Considering the view, why would one need a message?'. The Tevinter continued to stare wantonly at Michel, biting his lip in angst. 'Look at his complexion, as white as Orlesian cream. It is a crime to have skin as delicious as that. I just want to lick it to see if it tastes as sweet.'

'Oh darling don't forget his exquisite physique.' added Vivienne with a wicked smile 'All those bulges and tightness. Orlesian men are built to tease the eyes of everyone around them.'

Raising his glass, Dorian downed his cup with a grin. 'Mind you, it's a waste under all that armour. I mean we are in Skyhold at night for goodness sake, surely Cullen can let his soldiers have some time off from all that ugly metal?'

'And what?' I grinned 'Let them walk around naked for your entertainment?'

'Now there's a brilliant idea.' smiled Dorian.

'Vivienne laughed airly, lifting her glass in approval. 'My darling once I went to a summer soiree in Val Royeaux once where all the men wore grape leaves over their chevaliers, and nothing else. Perhaps we should encourage our chevalier to do the same?'

'He'd still have too much clothing on.' retorted Dorian wickedly.

'Oh my dear you're making Ophelia positively jealous talking about our dear Michel that way.' taunted Vivienne 'You really mustn't be so cruel.'

'She's with the Commander.' dismissed Dorian 'All the while that poor gorgeous man sits by himself at the end of the table pretending to be interested by that annoying little dwarven arcanist.'

'Poor Michel, always so polite.' agreed Vivienne, watching him smile as Dagna refused to let him get a word in. 'I wonder if he sleeps with a sword under his pillow, I heard chevaliers do that?'

Dorian laughed 'A sword under his pillow? Oh no no, I only allow two swords in my bed, never three.'

Vivienne cackled in delight 'Oh Darling you are simply divine. You should go rescue him, for who of us can truly resist a knight?'

'The Inquisitor apparently.' muttered Dorian, flicking his hand towards me like a was an annoying insect.

'You do realise I can hear you both?' I remarked flatly, although the pair had gone off talking on another tangent, leaving me in an awkward silence at the table while Cassandra and Varric spoke on one side of me, and Leliana and Blackwall gossiped on the other. Cullen could not have been too far away, so I decided to go in search of him before he found himself consumed in his work and forgot to come back.

Leaving the main hall, I turned towards the courtyard, making my way across the stone pathway before stopping to notice Cullen's room was dark.

'Can we talk?.' called out an Orlesian voice behind me.

Turning around, I could see Michel de Chevin approaching from the stairs, sweeping back his blonde hair as he drew closer.

'You escaped Dagna?' I joked, feeling extremely nervous. 'Good job.'

The ex-chevalier nodded with a smile. 'She certainly knows a lot of information about things I have never heard of before. And have heard before. And everything in between.'

'I was just trying to find Cullen.' I informed politely, the wine drawing flush to my cheeks 'It doesn't look like he's in his study. Let's go back inside and get a drink.'

'There are just a few things I need to speak to you before that. It will only take a moment.' reassured Michel. With a soft smile he added 'Do not fear, I would not dishonour you by trying anything else. I see you have reunited with the Commander.'

'I wanted to talk to you about that.' I replied guiltily 'So much has happened over the last few days.'

'There is no need.' dismissed Michel warmly 'We shared one kiss in the leafy confines of a garden and there it shall stay. I for one am fond of locking up pleasant memories to recall solely for my own pleasure.'. He gently grabbed my hand, running his warm fingers across mine as he drew his deep blue eyes to me. 'For what it is worth, I am always your humble servant.'

'Michel.' I began hastily 'I've worried about you for days. What happened in the garden?'

The ex-chevalier cast his eyes back around the courtyard, his mind distracted. 'I remember standing here at the Skyhold Grand Tourney, ready to fight Ser Perth.'. Breathing in deeply he smiled in fond recollection of the day. 'Do you remember what I said before the final tournament?'

'Death before dishonour.' I replied with a smile. Of course I had remembered.

The light diminished from his face, and sadly he nodded.

'Death before dishonour.' he murmured. Retreating to the base of the stairs, the ex-chevalier sat on the step, arms resting on his knees 'That is the motto of the Chevalier. When I mentioned that the chevaliers came often to murder the elves in the alienage, I did not mention that I grew up to be one of them. A final test of our blades, we went into my home alienage one night and I murdered three elves in cold blood. Three innocent elves.'

Warm night or not, a cold shiver crossed my skin as I approached slowly to sit beside the ex-chevalier. What could one say to such a confession? It was chilling and yet there had to be more to the story?

'So they forced you to kill three elves as a final test to become a chevalier?' I acknowledged without judgement. I knew Michel had given himself more than enough with this terrible confession weighing heavily on his mind after so many years.

Michel shook his head bitterly. 'No one forced that blade into those elves except my own hand. The finest order of knights across the realm and we all were born with the blood of innocents on our hands. Very honourable.'

'That must have been terrible for you.' I murmured 'I can see you were put in a terrible situation.'

The Orlesian looked up to me in surprise. 'No you cannot do that. You cannot excuse my wrongdoings Ophelia. I am shamed and will never be forgiven by whatever is waiting for us in the afterlife. Look at the horrors I am capable of?'

'But there is also good that you have done.' I frowned.

Michel stirred in frustration. 'You cannot take a life and then be absolved by saving one. The evil is done.'

'So you ignore the good you've done, as if it counts for nothing?' I replied with equal frustration. 'What of all the people you have helped? Serving as a chevalier, and now with us in the Inquisition? What of the lives you have protected and saved from the Red Templars? Do any of those actions count for anything?'

Never had I seen the ex-chevalier so furious, but he was and it was obvious that it had everything to do with his past. He shook his head in frustration before glaring at me sternly.

'I unleashed Imshael into the realm.' observed Michel angrily.

'As did I,' I replied coldly 'but it doesn't mean we wallow in our misery and don't continue to fight. We've all done things we're ashamed of. Things that have resulted in the death of another. In Haven I had to listen to the screams of Flissa as the inn burned her alive while I fought off Red Templars that were upon a group of the townsfolk. I made the decision to choose their lives over hers. I've sent out countless agents on missions that ensured they never return alive.'

'That is not the same thing.' dismissed Michel.

'How about when I went to the Hinterlands and I murdered apostate mages that were hiding out in the caves and in the wilds?' I continued angrily 'Mages that only wanted their freedom, and here I came sweeping across the plains with my tainted cloak of the Inquisition, allowing my party to run their blades through my brethren so there was peace in the area. I could recount story after story of how my actions have resulted in the death of innocents. You think you're the only dishonourable one amongst us? I'm sorry Michel, in this place you're in fine company.'

Michel shook his head stubbornly. 'Perhaps I cannot dismiss my wrongdoings as easily as you can?'

Throwing him a hurt look, I silently arose ascended the stairs. After everything we had been through was that what the Orlesian truly thought about me? Whatever the answer, he had said it and his words stung like a cut from a blade. If Michel believed he was dishonourable, then we were all disgraced and I was at the top of that shameful list.

I returned to the feast table where the Commander was now sitting once more. He threw me a curious look as I plonked myself lividly back into the seat beside him.

'Something vexes thee?' smirked Cullen, running his eyes across me in amusement 'Why you look positively wild Ophelia, although I cannot say I disapprove entirely. Don't tell me it had to do with Michel and you in the courtyard?'

'You saw us.' I muttered 'By the Maker, why didn't you come and intervene?'

The Commander shrugged. 'Why would I?'

Scorning at his comment, I roughly grabbed the jug to pour more wine. I knew Cullen was jealous of Michel and that infuriated me, however Cullen's new stance on being indifferent infuriated me even more. I had conveniently forgotten to tell him about the kiss in the gardens, but I was beginning to wish I would at this very moment so Cullen would storm off to the courtyard and throttle the ex-chevalier out of his self hatred.

'Michel needs to stop hogging the blame for everything that has ever gone wrong.' I muttered angrily 'If I didn't know any better I'd swear he would claim he caused the rifts in the sky. And created all the Blights. And was behind the mystery of the turnips ending up in the fireplaces at Skyhold.'

Cullen rubbed his neck, sighing heavily. 'This is my fault in part,' he observed 'I've been working the man too hard since he arrived here. Michel just needs some time off and a good wench at his side. I'll see that he gets a break.'

'He needs a chantry member to absolve him of his ridiculous long list of delusional sins.'

'You cannot tell a soldier how to think and act, Ophelia.' warned Cullen 'Michel has experienced a great deal in his life. None of us are prepared for what our blade will draw us towards in service.'

I couldn't help but feel as if the Commander was placating me with patronising observations. It made me all the more furious. 'We all have experienced that. Don't play the soldier card. It's not the matter of contention here.'

The Commander raised an eyebrow 'Then what is the matter of contention? Your reaction doesn't match the matter. Look at you!? You are angry, and anger is always personal.'

'Here we go again.' I muttered.

'I speak as I find.' Cullen observed nonchalantly, taking another sip of wine 'Forgive me if I am deluded, perhaps you would care to explain it to me?'

'Don't you ever feel horrendously riddled with guilt about some of the decisions we have made? The times when our scouts were murdered, or soldiers lives were lost because we made the wrong call?'

Placing the cup firmly on the table, Cullen turned seriously to me, drawing his amber eyes sternly to mine. 'I keep a list of every person that has died for this cause, and take care to look at it every day.' he informed me gravely 'You are emotional so I will not react to that foolish question. Just know that I never forget one person who has given their all for this cause of ours. Not one.'

'I'm sorry.' I faltered, feeling utterly ashamed of myself. 'What a stupid thing to say to you. It's just..I try to be strong, and then I have people like Michel that make me question everything. For every action he takes he ends up blaming himself for all the bad and refusing to acknowledge the good, but I cannot keep on doing the same. We cannot be drowned by this guilt, or else we'll never achieve anything. Leliana once told me; If Corypheus is cold, I must be colder.'

'Yes that sounds like her.' sighed Cullen, rolling his eyes. 'The sentiment is admirable but take care not to lose your humanity along the way. Benevolence is not a weakness, nor is empathy. A good ruler will rise to the occasion, but a great ruler will seek to understand all before striking.'

'Wisdom instead of animus?'

'In a way.' shrugged Cullen 'Anger can make you strong, but it can also blind you. Its better to try and understand your allies and foes. If you can see their perspective, you hold a far superior power over ignorance.'. With a sage look crowning his face like an enlightened soul, Cullen tapped his head with a knowing smile 'The greatest of kings rule with their head, not their blade, nor their heart.'

Running my hands across my face, I groaned 'Damn you and your irritating astute observations!

The Commander chuckled, appearing pleased the message had gotten through.

'I feel so foolish and incompetent, while you Commander seem to have all the answers up your sleeve.' I added flatly.

Cullen rubbed his shoulders wearily 'Unfortunately you'll find experience will be your greatest mentor. I've learnt through experience, and most of it was unpleasant to say the least. As Inquisitor you will face your own battles and there will be lives lost, as you already know. However if you learn from every experience it was not entirely in vain. Michel may not have said it as eloquently to you, but he is a good soldier who feels the pain and loss of death. Trust me, the soldiers that lose that ability to feel are the ones you need to be concerned about.'

'You should be the Inquisitor, not me.' I replied, shaking my head.

'No thank you!' chortled Cullen 'Commander of the Inquisition is more than enough.'. Placing his hand on mine, he gave it a reassuring squeeze. 'I wish I could tell you otherwise, but great leaders are always the ones that experience suffering first hand. If you do not feel that pain Ophelia you will never understand what you are fighting for, and what you are fighting against.'