Chapter Four
Fall
"I know pain, I know dread
Look his eyes: they've turned to lead.
The tears don't stop the fire."
—"Let Me Live/Let Me Die," Des Rocs
Cullen nearly sighed with relief when the mage returned to the camp set up just outside Redcliffe. He'd come with soldiers, a full guard to herald her arrival at the talks and a secondary line of defense if everything went horribly wrong. It had gone quickly, culminating in the arrival of King Alistair and Queen Anora of Ferelden, and she'd returned in one piece with the mad magister in chains. His relief evaporated at her pallor and the tightness in her expression.
When she gave him her report, verified by the Tevinter mage, Cullen's heart nearly stopped. A dark future full of red lyrium growing from people, a demon army, Leliana tortured, and the Empress dead—it was worse than any of the worst-case scenarios they'd been preparing for.
He saw her later that evening, after he'd sent a raven off to Leliana, staring listlessly into the fire. She was curled in on herself, gaze distant and withdrawn from the bustle of camp. To everyone else, they'd secured a victory. The mages were their allies, the help needed to close the Breach once and for all, and a northern cultist was in irons. But Cullen could see the weight of that victory etched into the furrow between her dark brows.
He made to join her, to listen if she needed or cajole her into teasing him—anything to dispel the worries she carried—but was beaten to it by the Tevinter mage. The man threw an arm about Katerina's shoulders as he talked lowly, words intended for her ears alone. Whatever he said eased her frown, but Cullen couldn't strangle that initial flare of envy when her head came to rest on the other man's shoulder.
It was only right, he reasoned as he forced himself to walk away. Dorian had been in that dark future with her. He'd seen what she'd seen, felt the price of losing in a visceral way, and lost his former mentor in the process. He was the only person who could share that with her. It was an understanding that Cullen couldn't offer her.
That didn't make it any easier to swallow.
He watched them on the return journey to Haven, noted their easy companionship and the effortless way the northerner drew Katerina from her thoughts. She smiled easily around the man, laughing and trading barbs as they rode.
Cullen tried convincing himself that it was good, that it made sense the two would be bonded now. They'd shared something powerful in that dark future, they were both mages, and the man was a shameless flirt. Why wouldn't she seek to pass the time with someone like that?
Besides, he had a million things to tend to and knew that the list would only grow upon their return to Haven. The demands of the Inquisition left little room for sleep much less the potential for romance. Not that he wanted to romance her—she was a mage and the Herald of Andraste, and he was the Inquisition's general. It would be untoward and unprofessional.
No, this was better. Let her turn her smiles elsewhere so that he could focus on the work that needed to be done.
Why, then, did his stomach flip every time he heard her laugh?
It was done.
She'd drawn on the power of the mages, acted as their focus, and sealed the tear in the sky. Clouds stilled swirled where the Breach had been, circling and dispersing over the mountainous ruins, but that ominous gash was gone. Golden bonfires warmed the night and sending up smoke to dance with the blessedly normal clouds skating across the inky sky. Only the light of the full moon and a few brave stars winked down at them—no more of that unsettling green glow. Cheers stilled echoed through the night, carrying over the frozen lake and bringing forth more joyous shouts as they went. The happy cries underscored the music and laughter ringing through Haven.
Varric sat around one of the fires with Iron Bull, Blackwall, and Josephine, sharing stories over ale and entertaining anyone who wanted to listen in, sharing the joy with even the surly apothecary, Adan. Further on, the Seeker stood sipping wine with Leliana and Vivienne, all looking over the celebrations with small smiles and a more reserved sort of glee.
Katerina watched it all as she moved. The celebratory mood was contagious. People were singing and dancing, laughing—all sounds that were out of the ordinary for Haven, and all the sort of thing Katerina wished they could hear more of. She walked through the partygoers, nodding and sharing a few words with those that touched her shoulder or called out to her. No one tried to stop her for more than that.
She was certainly pleased: Closing the Breach was a huge accomplishment, and the Inquisition had succeeded. But what was next for her? With the tear in the sky closed, the Inquisition would now turn to what this "Elder One's" plans for Thedas, but it looked like her role had come to an end. Maybe there were more rifts about for her to close—it would only take so long to do, and then what?
"You look far too serious for such a festive occasion," Dorian chirped as he materialized at her shoulder. "Are you not pleased at closing that ghastly thing?"
"Of course I'm pleased." She shot him a smile and bumped his shoulder with her own. "I just can't help but wonder what comes after tonight."
"It's as I suspected: You haven't had nearly enough to drink. Lucky for you," his silvery eyes landed on her with a mischievous glint, "I have the perfect solution."
With a sharp nod to Krem, Iron Bull's second in command, the music changed to a quick, thrumming tune that had an excited whisper rushed over the camp. Dorian grabbed her hand and spun her around with a dramatic flair before he began flying them about the makeshift dancefloor at a breakneck speed. The unfamiliar dance had Katerina helpless with giggles as she hung on for dear life.
Cullen watched the pair tear across the dancefloor and sipped his ale. She was radiant when she laughed and practically glowed in the firelight. Raven hair glinted in the heat and he couldn't help noticing the way her cheeks flushed with joy and exertion. His lips stretched in a smile that he fought down. It had been a long, nerve-wracking day and this was some well-deserved recompense.
He tore his gaze away from the Herald—'Katerina,' that insidious little voice whispered—when the seat beside him was filled. The Grey Warden, Blackwall, settled beside him with his own flagon of ale. The bearded man nodded a greeting and watched the spectacle that was Dorian's dancing.
"That's a sight," the Warden said wryly. The Tevinter mage was practically tossing his partner around like a doll, his madcap whirling warning the other dancers against getting too close. "Bloody mad mage."
Cullen shot him a sidelong glance, prickling at the man's strange tone. "Why do you say that?"
"We knew about the Imperium's blood magic, but now they have time magic too? That country is a nest of vipers and paranoid to boot." He watched them, his gaze intent on Katerina over the lip of his drink. "And now one of those northern foxes has strolled into the chicken coop."
The ex-templar frowned at the strange light in the other man's eyes and steered the conversation away from Dorian's people. "What do you make of the future they saw?"
"It's not one I'm keen to see pass. If that's what the world becomes without her—" He nodded towards the younger woman laughing wildly in the other mage's arms "—then I'll do whatever I must to see her through this."
Cullen nodded in agreement, mulling over the Warden's words. The Herald was so young and, if he was honest with himself, lovely that it sent a pang of regret through his chest that she was the one to bear the brunt of everyone's future. She was only a few years young than he was—two or three at the most—and nobly born. Women like her were meant to be carefree and unburdened with the weight of the world.
At that moment, Dorian dipped her backwards over his strong arm and her molten gaze locked with the Commander's. He nearly choked on his sip of ale, his heart skipping a beat, at the bright grin Katerina shot his way before rising in a flash to continue their wild dance. Cullen forced himself to swallow and hoped no one noticed his burning cheeks (or, if they did, that his sudden flush was shrugged off due to the drink and the fire).
Only one man did notice, and his dark beard practically crackled with his annoyance at the ex-templar's reaction to the mage. Blackwall studied the blond man for a long moment before breaking the silence between them. "This is the first time I've seen her so at ease inside Haven's walls. There are too many eyes here, and all of them on her."
"People love a hero," Cullen replied evenly, though he bristled at the possessive note in the Warden's tone. Why did it bother him so? He'd noticed her more attractive qualities and it was only natural that others would notice as well. The ex-templar knew he wouldn't do anything about it—their roles demanded they work closely. Any fraternization would create an unnecessary and unmanageable mess. His jaw tensed as he realized that not everyone would share that opinion, leaving openings for others to make known their interest in the young mage.
"She hates the scrutiny—she's happier on the road, lighter." The older man shrugged, still watching as Katerina and Dorian moved into a more sedate dance. "We've come to understand one another."
"And yet she seeks the company of another," Cullen replied with a forced lightness. "Tell me of your time with the Wardens, Blackwall. What do your brethren make of the rifts?"
Blackwall shrugged again, determinedly looking elsewhere. "You'd have to ask them. I was recruiting and conscripting folk when Katerina found me. I'd only heard whispers about the Breach. I'm sure Weisshaupt knew more."
The Commander shot him a glance, some instinct he couldn't quite name raising the hairs on the back of his neck. "And you've not heard from Weisshaupt."
"It's not unusual outside of the Blight."
"You've been with the Herald as she closed rifts," Cullen started, staring between his nearly empty flagon and the roaring fire before him. "Do you hear anything like the Calling near them?"
Blackwall stilled for just a beat, not moving a muscle or even breathing in that moment. "Not the Calling, no."
"I only ask because both she and Solas have commented that they can almost hear something wrong in the Fade whenever they're near one." He rolled his shoulders and maintained his casual air. "I'd hoped a Warden could offer some more insight. It might help us find some answers."
"Something is clearly wrong in the air around those things," the Warden started, his dark gaze narrowing at the ex-templar. "You don't need the Calling to feel that. The Calling only works on things connected to the Blight, anyway, and these aren't that."
"True." He looked about and spotted a few of the soldiers that had left the templars with him, and they nodded at their commander. "Excuse me a moment…"
With that, he rose and walked away with no further ceremony. Something was odd about what Blackwall had said. Maybe he was simply too low in the order to know more, perhaps Weisshaupt was cagier than he remembered. But something about the man's answers didn't sit right that Cullen couldn't quite put his finger on. He was grateful for the man's assistance and use of the Treaties, though, whatever else may be off-putting. He'd known too many Wardens, held too much respect for their order, to be bothered for long.
He exchanged a few words with Lysette and the others before parting with a nod. There were still mountains of reports to look over, and he'd promised himself only a short time at the festivities. Cullen had already set his mind to the task, making a mental list of everything he wanted to review before seeking his bed. His feet automatically carried him past the Chantry and towards his tent as he conjured up lists and numbers when a gentle hand on his arm stopped him.
Katerina gave him a small smile. "Are you leaving the celebrations so soon?"
"I still have some work to do," he admitted ruefully. "Though it shouldn't stop you from enjoying the night."
"Today is a victory, or so everyone seems determined to remind me," she said. She fondly rolled her eyes at how many people had said those words to her in the last few hours and leaned her staff against a nearby stack of crates. "Work can wait."
He glanced in the direction of his tent, noting the bonfires dotting the encampments around Haven and the raucous calls rising around them. It would be difficult to focus with so many happy shouts and competing echoes of music. A look back at the Herald made up his mind at once. She was flushed with the heat of the fires and dancing, happiness and her own sips of ale adding a sparkle to her eyes he didn't often see. He stole a peek at her pink lips as her tongue darted out to wet them. Were they as soft as they looked?
"If my lady insists." Shaking himself, Cullen chuckled uncomfortably and shifted. He shouldn't be having those thoughts—it was dishonorable and disrespectful. "Did you wish to speak with me?"
"Yes, I wanted to thank you." Katerina hoisted herself atop the crates, her shapely legs dangling down in the snug leather breeches she seemed to prefer. "Leliana was updating me on the progress made in finding my brother, and she said that your contacts have been instrumental in giving new leads."
"Of course." He leaned against the crates, angling himself to see her better. "It's important to you and could help the Inquisition in our search for answers. I still think that having additional templars on our side can only do good."
"I also wanted to thank you for agreeing to keep the mages on, however unhappy you may be about it." She stole a glance at him, trying not to notice the way the firelight cast him in gold and highlighted his strong jaw. Had he always looked on her that warmly?
"I still think going to the templars would have worked," he said, softening his voice as he spoke. "But your mages got results—I'm pleased that we're sharing a victory tonight. I have to ask… were you intent on approaching the mages because you are also a mage?"
Katerina sighed, brow furrowing and legs swinging, as she contemplated his question. "In a way, I suppose. I know what mages can do, how they can focus on one point and pour themselves—and their magic—into that focus. I'd done it before, at the Circle, and knew it could work here…"
She trailed off then, chewing her lip and staring at something only she could see for a long moment. Cullen watched her patiently, waiting for her to go on. They'd never spoken so candidly about her magic before or about her innermost thoughts. It was new ground for both of them, he realized, and something to handle delicately.
"I chose to ally myself with the mages both because I am a mage and because I needed to know I could trust the people standing behind me tonight." Katerina forced herself to meet the ex-templar's eyes then, steadily holding his gaze as her chin rose as if daring him to argue. "I had to know that I wouldn't be cut off from my magic and run through if a templar got dodgy at sensing the mark and my heightened connection to the Fade. I'm no good to anyone dead."
A shudder ran through her then, breaking the intense eye contact that left Cullen's stomach flipping. She'd paled under the golden firelight and he couldn't stop himself from placing a steady hand on her knee.
"You've felt magical suppression before," he breathed, realizing it when he saw her ball her shaking hands to hide the tremors.
"Yes," was the equally soft response.
"What happened?"
"It was the night the Circle fell." She swallowed, voice rough against her suddenly parched throat. "It was a massacre and I fled. We were nearly at the gate when it happened. It was like I was drowning and a trap closed on my leg, all at once. Sienna—my best friend—was gasping like a fish on dry land."
His hand tightened on her knee then—he hadn't truly realized the effect the dampening could have on a mage. He knew it made them unable to cast, but the physical effects had never truly been explained to him. At one point, not too terribly long ago, he was ashamed to admit that he wouldn't have cared. That his chest tightened with the flood of shame and anger—regret—told him just how much he'd grown since his time in Ferelden and then Kirkwall. 'It has nothing to do with her,' he silently insisted.
"How did you two escape?" he prompted after a long pause.
"She didn't." Katerina shook herself out of the memory and met his gaze. "I just… got lucky."
Cullen ached to erase that haunted look from her face but knew he couldn't. It wasn't his place. She wasn't his to comfort. That didn't stop him from wondering, however fleetingly, just how her soft curves would feel pressed tight against the harder planes of his body. He forced that thought away, slamming the door shut and barricading it with every defense he could muster.
"I regret that you ever experienced that," he said eventually. His hand fell from its spot on her leg then, feeling colder as it returned to his side. "And that the Order betrayed you so."
"Thank you," Katerina replied. "And I'm sorry that you've been given a reason to distrust all mages. I… if things had been different, if you'd been in Ostwick or if I'd been in Kirkwall, I sometimes wonder if we could have been friends."
He shook his head at that, face flooding with heat and shame. "You wouldn't have wanted to know me in Kirkwall."
"Perhaps, but I want to know you now." Her eyes widened when the words left her mouth. "Maker, I just can't—I don't know why I-I… Damn Dorian and his damned drink."
Cullen chuckled as she stuttered and stumbled, all hints of her normal self-assurance gone without a trace. His stomach filled with flutters and tongue felt too thick for his mouth as all those thoughts he tried to shut away came rushing back with a vengeance. She wanted to know him. She wanted that—wanted something to do with him. He didn't know what to make of that, only that it filled him with the exquisitely painful sort of longing he'd suffocated and brutally suppressed for years.
"I'm sorry, I never meant to make you uncomfortable." Katerina slid down to stand once more, peering earnestly up at him. "Sense just seems to go out the window when I—I'm doing it again. My mother would have cuffed my ear and called me a hoyden by now."
"It's alright." He chuckled again and ran a hand over the back of his neck (was he sweating? Maker, he was sweating). "Your mother and my sister sound like they're cut from the same cloth."
"I've made a spectacle of myself, I'm sorry," she said. Embarrassment mingled with something bitter—disappointment?—as she watched the man rock from one foot to the other at her boldness. "If you do decide to work tonight, please don't work too hard."
"Is that an order?" Cullen joked, sharing a small smile with her that did something funny to her heart.
"Just consider it a friendly suggestion." She returned his smile with one of her own before forcing herself away from the man. Her hand patted his shoulder in parting, noting the hard muscle beneath the layers of his clothes as she grabbed her staff and walked away.
Katerina forced herself to move slowly, resisting the urge to scurry for shelter under a table somewhere. Instead, she found herself standing near the Chantry to overlook the party unfolding before her. The dancing had continued, though the makeshift dancefloor was safer now that Dorian was occupied elsewhere. It seemed Sera had challenged Iron Bull to a drinking contest and was losing spectacularly, much to the delight of their audience. It truly was a happy night.
Crunching snow announced someone's approach, though she didn't turn to face them. Haven was safe—the villagers and recruits were reveling below, and no longer paying her any mind. It was nice to slip back into that anonymity she'd enjoyed before the Breach.
"Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm," Cassandra said in the husky voice of hers as she came to rest beside the mage. "The Breach is sealed. We've reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread."
"You know how many were involved," Rina said, tilting her chin at those dancing and laughing below. She couldn't comfortably take the credit—it took a great effort from everyone in the Inquisition to win the day. "Luck put me at the center."
"A strange kind of luck," Cassandra replied, turned to look at her companion. "I'm not sure if we need more or less."
Katerina huffed in amusement at the Seeker's wry tone, but the warrior continued. "But you're right: This was a victory of alliance. One of the few in recent memory. With the Breach closed, that alliance will need new focus."
Her pulse fluttered at that and the mage opened her mouth to ask for more information. She wanted to know what the future held for them, to hear what the Inquisition had planned for her. That question was cut off as the bells pealed over Haven and lights appeared in the hills across the lake. All merriment died and people rushed about in a panic at the warning tolls.
"Forces approaching!" Cullen shouted, hurrying soldiers to their posts near the main gate. "To arms!"
Panicked civilians gathered in the square below where dancing and joy had reigned just seconds before. They ran, fear and alarm overtaking them, scattering to their homes. They cried out their dismay as they fled.
Katerina watched it all with a sinking dread filling her stomach.
"What the…?" The Seeker drew her sword and tugged the mage forcefully down toward the gate. "We must speak with Cullen."
"Always something!" a drunken man sneered at the mage as she ran. "You're 'important'—go protect us!"
Dorian and Blackwall fell in behind her, their weapons at the ready. She rushed after Cassandra, dodging and weaving through the chaos to keep up. Vivienne was ushering people inside the Chantry and casting glowing barriers throughout the town as she went. Varric, Sera, and Iron Bull flew to the ready, their weapons near at hand as they went from door to door to drive people into the Chantry. Whatever this was, it seemed they all knew the safest place to be was within stone walls and under a stone roof.
Cassandra had already reached the Commander and the other advisors. They were discussing the situation, all trying to look calm. Soldiers milled about, readying themselves for whatever this newest threat was.
"One watchguard reporting," Cullen was saying. He'd shed the shyness from just minutes before, now authoritative and firm in his command. "It's a massive force, the bulk coming over the mountain."
"Under what banner?" Josephine asked.
"None." The Commander shot her a significant look.
"None?"
Katerina only paid them half a mind, strange flares of power gathering and being released in blazes of fire and gurgling gasps drawing her closer to the gate. It hammered once—twice with flares of light before…
"I can't come in unless you open!" a soft, desperate voice called from the other side.
She rushed to open the gate and her heart stopped. A giant, armored templar locked on to her and drew closer. Her staff flared to life with flames as she held it at the ready. Cullen ran to her side, sword drawn, and he threw an arm out to catch her as he threw himself between the mage and the menacing templar. She was the Herald, he reasoned. He had to protect her.
The templar crumpled to his knees with a wet gasp, revealing a scarecrow of a lad in a strange hat behind the body.
"I'm Cole," the boy said to Katerina. "I came to warn you—to help. People are coming to hurt you, but you probably already know that."
"What's going on?" the mage asked, voice hard with tension as she neared the young man. Cullen matched her step for step, unwilling to let her face this new threat alone.
"The templars come to kill you," Cole said, not unkindly. He skittered back before anyone moved, as if he could sense a wave before it broke.
"Templars?" Cullen demanded, his sword flashing in the firelight. "Is this the Order's response to our talks with the mages—attacking blindly?"
"The red templars went to the Elder One," the boy explained, glancing between the Commander and the marked mage. "You know him? He knows you—you took his mages. There."
He pointed to a ridge overlooking the village where a man stood. Another, broader and taller, appeared behind the first as if from a fog. Malicious, sickening red glinted around the second man's head. Flames marched steadily forward, flickering so quickly that they could be mistaken for snowflakes at first glance.
"He's very angry that you took his mages," Cole intoned, staring out over the frozen lake.
Katerina shared a glance with the Commander. It seemed neither of them were certain what to do next but fight. There were people relying on them to offer protection, people who did not deserve whatever fate these 'red templars' wished to bestow.
Cullen reached out to her, his hand tight on her shoulder. His heart stuttered at the thought of her on the front lines against his former brethren. She was one mage against a host of templars. The way she'd shuddered at the memory of magical suppression—it sickened him to think of sending her back to face that. But there was no choice, it seemed.
"Cullen." Katerina's voice jarred him from his thoughts, only the tiniest waver giving away her fear. "Give me a plan—anything."
"Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle." He turned to face her, hating the next words to leave his mouth as much as he regretted his initial fear of her. "Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can."
He squeezed her shoulder, hoping she could sense everything he wasn't saying, before turning away to address the crowd that had flooded out behind them. A sea of mages stood in the frosty air, dotted with former templars and green soldiers. All stared out at the encroaching red templars, terrified but determined. He lifted his sword and paced before them, keenly aware of one pair of bright eyes on his back.
"Mages!" he cried. "You-you have sanction to engage them. That—" he pointed with his sword "—is Samson. He will not make this easy. Inquisition, with the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!"
Their cheers rang out, unease giving way to determination and dedication to the cause. Even before the cries faded out, he was directing soldiers to man the walls with the mages, to defend and load the trebuchets, and escort civilians to the Chantry. He fell back with them, watching as the Herald and her companions darted off to aid where they could.
The red templars broke over the walls like a wave crashing over sand—they hit hard and easily wiped out the ill-prepared and unguarded. Flames licked up towards the sky as homes burned and ash mixed with the snow, falling black and gray as the red monstrosities kept coming.
Cullen worked with the others to protect the gates and the people within the town, trying desperately not to look too hard at the attacking templars. He didn't trust himself to keep swinging if he recognized anyone on the other side.
The trebuchets eventually fired off into the mountains, eliciting a cheer from the Inquisition forces. An avalanche crashed down on the main host of the red templars. The flickering flames were erased and—for the briefest moment—the Commander allowed himself to hope they'd won.
A roar, feral and huge, echoed off the stone and snow right before a flash of vivid scarlet erupted. A trebuchet exploded with the fireball, lighting up the mountains and sending debris flying.
Order gave way to chaos. Panic filled the air, bitter and sharp. Inquisition soldiers scattered, screams of fear and cries of pain sounding. A dark shadow circled over Haven, sending more fire raining down on the once-sleepy mountain village. The thunderous flapping of massive wings filled the air. Doom circled.
Cullen stayed at the gates, shoving people towards the Chantry as he went, shouting directions without truly hearing himself. He'd ordered all soldiers inside. Only a few others dared remain to force the heavy wooden doors shut.
"Move it!" he shouted as stragglers sprinted towards him. "Move it!"
It was her, Katerina. The Commander's heart nearly screeched to a halt with relief to see her. She'd made it through that first onslaught, somehow surviving this newest attack from above. Once she was safely through, he pulled the gate closed behind her with all of his strength.
"We need everyone back to the Chantry," he said, ushering her towards the only stone building in the town. The beast roared and growled in the night as he went. "It's the only building that might hold against… that beast."
"Cullen," Katerina panted, her breath misting in the cold air. Blood dotted her clothing and he could see her hands shaking as the ashy snow clung to the red spots. "I don't think we—"
"At this point, just make them work for it." His voice was hard and commanding, a stark contrast to the gentle warmth of his eyes and soft downturn of his lips. Red templars came over a breach in the defenses then, and the Commander led a few soldiers to deal with them. Their shouts echoed in the burning village.
"The villagers will need help if they're going to survive this," Dorian said as the blond man darted away.
Cullen was vaguely aware of the Herald and her companions rushing to check for any stragglers who might have taken refuge in their homes. He shoved any thoughts of her away. He couldn't afford the distraction. His sword glinted and clashed with the corrupted templars while fire rained down from above. Whispers tickled his ears, so distracting that he was nearly caught by an enemy sword.
He blocked an incoming blow with a grunt. Sweat ran down his back. Breaking away, the final red templar shot him a demented snarl and lunged. Cullen sidestepped the larger man. His blade caught the enemy in the belly and side—it was deep.
The templar collapsed to his knees and the gray snow was stained red. The eerie red growths on the enemy warrior faded, and so did the whispers.
Lyrium, he realized with horror. Red lyrium was growing out of the templars.
His hands went clammy, and Cullen was suddenly grateful for his gloves. Otherwise, his weapon would have slid from his numb fingers.
"Ser, orders?" a panting soldier asked.
The question snapped the Commander back to the present and he examined the scene before him. Civilians were running toward the Chantry and other gangs of red templars were roving the town. "Get to the Chantry. We need to clear a path and defend those inside. Go!"
They hacked and slashed their way to the Chantry doors, cleaving a bloody path through their enemies to give the frightened villagers a chance. Shoulders screamed and arms burned with the effort it took to keep fighting. Weapons grew increasingly heavy in their tired hands. Only adrenaline and dread kept them going. He didn't know how long they fought, but eventually everyone was inside the Chantry with a few notable exceptions.
"Where's the Herald?" Cullen panted to Leliana as the doors were barred shut behind him.
"She hasn't returned," the spymaster said coolly. "The last stragglers reported that she was freeing people from the fires."
He cursed under his breath then. The town was overrun with those red monstrosities and the fire-breathing beast circling in the skies did nothing to help the matter. Cullen gritted his teeth to the point of pain to stop himself from running out there after her. He was needed here.
"Status report."
"The town burns and the villagers are taking refuge in the passages below." Leliana jerked her chin towards the war room. "Everything of import has been consolidated so we can burn it if necessary. The Herald fights and Cassandra is with her. Cullen, there is no way out."
The Commander nodded, unable to bear looking at the desperate faces around them. He knew that. This was their final stand, and the enemy had a dragon. The Inquisition didn't stand a chance.
The muffled sounds of fighting could be heard outside, growing ever closer. He felt it then, that familiar tug on the Veil followed by a cool rush of magic. She was nearby and fighting her way back. Cullen turned to order the doors open once the fighting stopped, but the odd boy and Chancellor Roderick beat him to it.
"Move! Keep going!" Roderick called, gripping his side as he limped forward. "The Chantry is your shelter."
They tumbled through then, mages, warriors, and quartermaster alike, and the doors were quickly barricaded behind the odd group. Dorian and the warriors fell back to recover with water and lyrium while Roderick stumbled. Katerina turned to help him up, but the strange young man—Cole, she recalled—had already caught him. He helped Roderick to sit down, and she noticed the blood staining the Chancellor's robes and hand for the first time.
"He tried to stop a templar," Cole explained in that ethereal voice of his. "The blade went deep. He's going to die."
"What a charming boy," Roderick gasped.
Katerina swallowed down the bile and horror that threatened to overtake her then, forcing it down behind a cool mask of control. Her skin itched as she felt the eyes on her. Everyone was watching her as if she held any answers. A sign of weakness or hesitance now could result in uncontrolled panic. So she bit it all back and forced herself to appear strong. If there was one useful thing her mother had taught her, it was how to hide her feelings.
"Herald." Cullen rushed towards her then, watching the way her face shuttered upon noticing everyone's attention. He had to fight the urge to hold her and check for any injury. She looked unharmed, the blood flecking her clothes not her own. The bands that had tightened around his lungs loosened a bit at that. "Our positioning is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us."
"I've seen an archdemon," Cole said, his gentle voice breaking through the Commander's sharp relief. "I was in the Fade, but it looked like that."
"I don't care what it looked like," the Commander bit out. "It's cut a path for that army. It'll kill everyone in Haven."
"The Elder One doesn't care about the village," the young man insisted. He knelt by the Chancellor, holding the man's hand to offer what comfort he could. "He only wants the Herald."
Katerina's stomach sank like a lead balloon and she swallowed roughly. There was only one way for the people of Haven and the Inquisition to survive this. "If it will save these people, he can have me."
'No,' Cullen's mind whispered. He knew it was the only way, but he couldn't accept it.
"It won't," the boy told her. "He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he'll crush them—kill them anyway. I don't like him."
"You don't like—" Cullen cut himself short, his frustration too high and nerves too frayed to deal with this ridiculousness now. If sacrificing the queen wouldn't win them a reprieve, he had to think of another way, any other way to save the pawns. He had nothing. "Herald. There are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide."
"We're overrun," she pointed out, voice calm despite the warm flash of admiration she felt at his determination to go down fighting. "To hit the enemy, we'd bury Haven."
"We're dying," he replied, voice soft but firm. "But we can decide how. Many don't get that choice."
He stared at her, heart tightening painfully at the thought of dying. He'd never know if she could think of him the same way, never know the feel of her in his arms. It was hard to believe, but he wanted to know that. It was the first time he'd allowed himself to want since Ferelden, and it was too late.
The mage's stormy gray eyes met his, watching him as he watched her. Could she see the spark of desire he was only now allowing to flare? Did her body coil and pang to know there was no future, no chance or choice? Cullen held his breath as she shifted towards him, and…
"Yes, that," a soft voice breathed beside them, breaking the spell. "Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies."
"There is a path," the Chancellor said, his reedy voice weak with effort. "You wouldn't know it unless you'd made the summer pilgrimage as I have. The people can escape. She must have shown me… Andraste must have shown me so I could tell you."
He rose shakily to face the Herald, face tight with pain and something more. She steadied him by the arms and noticed the fervent determination in his pain-bright eyes. He truly wished to help, to save people.
"What are you on about, Roderick?" Katerina asked, not unkindly as she helped him stand. Cullen shifted closer to hear and catch the man if need be.
"It was whim that I walked the path," the older man replied. "I did not mean to start—it was overgrown. Now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one that remembers—I don't know." A cough wracked his body. "If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident. You could be more."
"What about it, Cullen?" the mage asked, turning to him for guidance. "Could it work?"
"Possibly," he said, trying to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name in that smooth voice of hers. "If he shows us the path. What of your escape?"
She turned away from him then, unable to meet the earnest hope in his eyes as she realized there likely would be no escape. Between the templars, the dragon, and the avalanche she hoped to bring down on the town, this was the end of the road.
"Perhaps you'll surprise it—find a way," he said softly.
She didn't turn and he had to tear himself away, get the people moving. There wouldn't be a chance otherwise. He had to give her a chance.
Turning, he barked orders and directed the soldiers to follow the Chancellor. Cullen turned back once to see the wounded Roderick talking softly with the Herald. Soldiers ran past, the clanking of their armor and pounding footsteps drawing the mage from her reverie. Once he was satisfied that people were moving to evacuate the town, Cullen moved back to the Herald.
"They'll load the trebuchets," he told her. The Chantry hall became eerily quiet as it emptied of all but them. "Keep the Elder One's attention until we're above the tree line."
Katerina nodded and moved toward the doors, towards the almost certain doom. All he could do was watch her go, his cold instructions hanging between them. That didn't mean he couldn't leave her with a few parting words.
"If we are to have a chance—if you are to have a chance, let that thing hear you."
"Take care of everyone, Cullen. Get them, and yourself, to safety." Her stormy eyes were bright with suppressed emotion as she turned to face him one last time. "That's all I care about."
And with that she disappeared back into the fray.