9:37 - DRAGON - The day of the Chantry Explosion in Kirkwall

Ruvena nudged Cullen, "Don't make it obvious, but look over there."

He waited with an awkward faux glance around while scratching the back of his neck before gazing sideways out of the armory's window.

"Oh that wasn't obvious at all…" Ruvena joked.

Ignoring her, he groaned inwardly at the sight of Meredith throwing yet another fit in the courtyard.

"Not this again," he murmured.

Her unintelligible streams of profanity and apoplectic rage were directed, unsurprisingly, at yet another raw recruit. The spit flying out of her mouth coated the poor boy's face so thoroughly Cullen marveled at how he could remain facing her with his eyes wide open.

She suddenly backhanded the boy, kicking him down for good measure before storming away.

"Maker's mercy…"

"She's losing it I tell yah," Ruvena whispered in a sing-song voice that tapered off into a cackle. Cullen wondered if she was capable of any sort of empathy at all.

"It's been stressful, with the Circles," he snapped back, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and stem the headache he felt coming on, "but she shouldn't abuse the initiates. I'll need to…" he trailed off, looking up. The situation had been threatening to boil over for years, and with Knight-Commander Meredith and First Enchanter Orsino clawing at each other's necks on a daily basis, it was becoming harder and harder for Cullen to help maintain the peace between the templars and mages of Kirkwall.

"I'll need to speak with her," he finished dumbly, and Ruvena huffed as she fastened the last clasp on her armor.

One side fought ruthlessly for the maintenance and control of the mages while the latter accused them of oppression and needless suspicion. Cullen knew there was truth to both sides, and it was only a matter of time before he'd have to step in and report them both to the Divine.

"Magic exists to serve man, never to rule over him," he thought, but that didn't mean they had to treat the mages like beasts. A firm hand did not have to be inhumane, and no matter how he personally felt about mages, he knew Meredith was crossing lines that shouldn't be crossed.

Ruvena shook her head and sheathed her sword, oblivious to Cullen's turmoil, "I can't believe she has us spying on that Amell woman again, or is it Hawke? I can't bloody remember."

"Hawke," said Cullen, glad to be distracted from his miserable thoughts. He knew Ruvena was only pretending to be confused, on account of her rabid hatred of nobility, because everyone in Kirkwall knew who the Champion was. Hawke had saved them from a Qunari invasion, earning quite the reputation for herself and her lucky compatriots. Combined with her other socially questionable associations, it was likely there wasn't a single soul in Kirkwall and possibly the borders of Ferelden who didn't know who she was.

"Though I suppose she's the last real representative of the Amell family now, considering what happened with her mother," Cullen added, shaking his head, "What a sad way for the Amells to go, Maker rest her soul."

"Fucking blood mages," Ruvena grumbled, and then spat out the window. Sometimes Cullen was a bit taken aback by how gruff she was, though there was a bit of charm to it, if he thought about it long enough.

"Let's go and get this over with," he sighed, and they both left the garrison, careful to avoid bumping into Knight-Commander Meredith.

Cullen did not want to spy on Hawke again. He let Ruvena know as much, he hated seeing her up close. Talking with her strained him, and he had only reluctantly agreed to work with her out of necessity. Even though she carried the name Hawke, her face was just a little too similar to an Amell he once knew, and the way she laughed always sent a cold pang of longing through his heart.

Why must she sound so much like… her?

He grimaced, the dread of old memories flooding into him.

The memories always came at the worst times, things as simple as walking through the market and seeing a flash of dark curls, or catching the scent of rose, and her face would slam right back into his mind as if he had just seen her.

He could see it all, her smile, the way she furrowed her brow while she studied, and then he would remember the sway of her hips as she walked through the halls.

He balled his armored hand into a fist, he felt his face flush and he hated himself. Knowing a mage had once caused him to stray was humiliating, and then of course, he felt his chest tighten with old fear.

A demon had tormented him, sent by Uldred with her face to try and seduce him to their side. But try as it might, the demon had failed. He hadn't broken. He survived the massacre when so many of his friend's had not. Was it the timely intervention of the Grey Wardens? Or did he have some superhuman will that the other templars seemed to lack? But deep down he knew he was just lucky. A teenaged recruit that even Uldred hadn't thought much of, and so he was forgotten, left for last because he didn't matter enough to worry about.

His skin prickled at the memory of Uldred, the Senior Enchanter turned blood mage had attempted to use the chaos of the fifth blight to wrangle control of Kinloch Hold for himself, possessing templars and mages alike. Cullen often wondered how successful the demon might've been in swaying him if he hadn't parted with Amell on such horrific terms. With every sweet word out of the demon's mouth, he remembered Amell's face, the look of betrayal directed squarely at him.

It was only after the weeks of torture he had endured at the hands of Uldred and his demon that he had stopped mourning the loss of Kena. She shouldn't have helped a Jowan, it didn't matter that she didn't knew he was a maleficar. They had rules for a reason, that much was proven quite clearly the day Jowan escaped.

Magic was dangerous, and he was a fool for believing mages were harmless.

So it was with an unfortunate situation that whenever he spoke with Hawke he always dreamt of her, which meant he remembered the demon. It was a tiring competition between desire and fear and he found himself resenting Hawke for forcing the memories to return, but he swallowed his feelings, and was cordial. Just as he was raised to be.

Involuntarily gulping as they approached the Hightown road Amell Manor was on, Cullen found himself agitated and in a foul mood, as usual when sent on these spying expeditions.

"You look sweaty," Ruvena laughed, and she pulled a twig of embrium from her pocket, holding it out to Cullen, "chew on this before you keel over."

Cullen was distracted, and refused. Ruvena shrugged, biting on the twig herself, "Why are you so afraid of Hawke?"

"Wh-what?" he stuttered, and they began patrolling the street, trying to pretend they weren't spying.

"I am not afraid," he finally spat.

"You are, you always end up sweaty and bothered after you speak with her," she teased, and then she suddenly gasped.

"What?!" Cullen hissed, looking around, but Ruvena had a smirk on her face.

"You like her don't you?" she cooed, poking at his side, and Cullen's face flushed red.

"I absolutely do not, Maker! Ruvena, how could you say that?" he whispered, insulted at her insinuations. He most definitely did not have feelings for Hawke, the woman was obnoxious, crude and always smelled of sweat and blood.

She was quite honestly a bit repulsive to him.

But because of the few traits that reminded him of… her , he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. He knew he could never explain any of this to Ruvena without opening up a vat of worms he did not want to deal with.

"Oh, don't mind me, it's not like I've been sleeping with you for the last two years," she had a playful look on her face, as if she enjoyed the sight of Cullen bothered a little too much, "you dream about an Amell you know. I hear you moaning her name in your sleep after we see Hawke."

"You what?!"

"Oh Kena… Amell…. Ohhhhhhh," Ruvena threw her head back and cackled, thoroughly enjoying the mortified expression on Cullen's face.

He nearly tripped on a loose flagstone and coughed, he hadn't realized he spoke in his sleep, and he felt very angry that Ruvena hadn't mentioned it before, "You… you…" his face was uncomfortably hot.

"Oh come on, you can tell me," she said, nudging him in the side, "what happened at that circle in Ferelden? You wouldn't be the first templar to mess around with a mage."

"Maker stop Ruvena," Cullen groaned, turning fifty shades of red and trying his hardest to remain calm.

"Oh come on!" Ruvena exclaimed, "We're pals aren't we? Just tell me, I swear I won't spread it around."

"Pals?" he said, suddenly annoyed at the reminder of their strange dynamic, "We've been going out for two years, I'd say that's a bit more than pals Ruvena, and I'd like it if you would be a bit understanding-."

Ruvena laughed and slapped him on the shoulder, "Maker you're a comedian, you know that?"

Cullen didn't laugh, "Why am I a comedian?"

She stopped chuckling and wiped a tear from her eye. When she finally looked up at Cullen, her face went serious, "Wait…" she stopped in her tracks and shook her head, "you mean to tell me… you thought we-"

"Well, I know it's been two years, usually in Ferelden we marry much sooner. I just thought that in Kirkwall the women like to take their time-"

"Wait, marry? I'm sorry, what?" she scoffed and blinked in confusion, "Damn it all Cullen, sleeping with someone and having a relationship are two very different things!"

Cullen, once again, felt very stupid and nervously massaged his temple, "I… I thought you were happy with our arrangement."

"Yeah…" she trailed off, "but I never said our arrangement was anything more than… what it's been."

He wrinkled his brow at Ruvena, unsure how to answer. He hadn't actually had a conversation with Ruvena about their relationship, he just sort of assumed it was one. He had written off all the strangeness as just another facet of the socially liberated culture of the Free Marchers he didn't quite understand. Though he did wonder why Ruvena insisted they keep their relationship secret.

And then he bit his lip, suddenly quite aware of his own Ferelden stupidity.

"I…" Cullen began, but he sighed, too flustered to think about it further, "can we not do this in public? Perhaps later?"

If there was one thing he was an expert at, it was avoiding conversations that made him uncomfortable.

Ruvena shrugged and walked under the shade of a balcony, leaning against a filigree stone pillar and staring straight at the Amell Manor's front door.

"Maker, she'll know you're spying," Cullen argued, trying to look inconspicuous.

"Come off it," Ruvena said, crossing her arms and chewing her embrium loudly. She seemed bothered now, and he dreaded what their later conversation would entail.

He hadn't seen her so agitated before.

"As if the precious Champion of Kirkwall doesn't already know we're spying," she said, venom thick in her voice. She tilted her chin upward toward the manor with a laugh. Cullen followed her gaze and met the baubled eyed stare of an elven servant staring out of Hawke's bedroom window.

Cullen quickly turned around and cursed under his breath.

"Told you they knew we were spying, Meredith really is a fool," Ruvena grumbled.

Cullen looked back, and the elf was gone, but the Mabari was now panting at them from the second floor window, and it all felt so absolutely ridiculous that they were even there.

"We should just leave," he began, but Ruvena shook her head.

"No, we'll plant our butts here until something interesting happens or the night hits," she scratched at a scab on her chin and continued her shameless staring at Hawke's front door.

Cullen swallowed and futilely tried to remain inconspicuous, though he knew there was really no point anymore.

He had nearly dozed off while standing when he felt Ruvena's armored elbow clang into the side of his breast plate.

"Look!" she whispered excitedly.

Hawke's apostate companion, Anders, stormed out of the manor. The black feathers of his robe fluttered obnoxiously with every step.

Cullen was baffled at how the mage could so wantonly try and announce his apostasy to the templars in Kirkwall, and he figured it was some form of arrogance. It was no secret they had been hunting him for months. The rumored do-gooder apostate who used his abilities to heal the poor in Lowtown was nearly as famous as the Champion.

And once Anders had attached himself to the Champion of Kirkwall, well, none of that mattered anymore. Anders had become untouchable.

It sounded nice on paper of course, an apostate with a heart of gold, but Cullen knew better. If only the common folk understood the dangers of magic, had seen what he had seen, they wouldn't have so wantonly harbored an apostate.

Cullen felt that Anders had begun throwing his untouchable status in their faces, knowing full well that to harass the healer of Lowtown, and the friend of the Champion, would only bring the ire and hatred of Kirkwall's denizens even harder onto the Order.

They're waning popularity was already something they were struggling to contain, so even Meredith had allowed them to look the other way when it came to Anders.

But she hadn't given up on trying to catch him in the act of something sinister. Something even the "common fools" couldn't turn their back on, as Meredith had mused on many occasions.

Cullen angrily watched the apostate, strutting about Hightown as if he owned the place when suddenly, for a moment, he was certain he saw the man's eyes glow blue.

Anders stopped in his tracks and leaned onto the wall, slamming his hand over his brow and muttering to himself. His body was tense, as if he were in a great amount of pain.

"Did you…" Cullen whispered, shocked, "see that?"

Ruvena stopped chewing on her embrium and met Cullen's gaze, "I sure did…"

Anders suddenly stood upright, slightly adjusting his collar and flashing a strained smile at a passing noblewoman before he was strutting off as normal. Only the Maker knew what he had planned, but there was no denying something wasn't right about him now.

Cullen furrowed his brow, "We should let Meredith know, if he's an abomination-"

Ruvena spat the chewed embrium onto the ground, "Not even Hawke can protect him from that. I can't believe we actually spied something useful," stomping away, Ruvena seemed to be in a rather cheerful mood suddenly.

But Cullen felt uneasy. Something was off. The day was coming to an end but he was suddenly very much awake. There were clouds rolling into the sky and a sourness in the air that was probably all just in his head, and though he knew it didn't make sense, Cullen felt something evil was coming.

His stomach twisted into knots at the thought.

"Come on!" Ruvena called over her shoulder, and he jogged after her, praying to the Maker that he was wrong.

Galel sprinkled the herbs in a massive circle around Kena. She was stripped down to her underclothes and laying on her back with her feet just near the lower edge of the circle.

"Dagger," he said, holding his hand out for the blade. Jowan coated it in deep mushroom paste and placed the hilt in Galel's hand.

He noticed the sweat dripping into his friend's eyes. If Galel was this nervous, how safe could the ritual really be?

Jowan looked warily at Kena, "It's going to hurt," he warned, "are you sure you're ok with this?"

Kena's eyes were squeezed shut, and she frowned. Jowan knew she was afraid of what would come next. The rapid rise and fall of her chest signaled as much, but she silently gave him a thumbs up and dropped her arm back to her side. Jowan knew by her expression he shouldn't press the issue further.

"The first one now," Galel said softly to Kena. He placed the tip of his dagger on her chest, and in a swift motion carved a swirling symbol, the blood slid down her side and pooled beneath her. Jowan looked at her, searching for any sign of distress, but her face was expressionless.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, her reaction was unnatural, and now that the ritual was underway he wasn't sure he was making the right decision by helping.

Maker guide me.

Kena knew the pain was there, but it felt far away. She couldn't remember when, but there had been a point during the numerous torture sessions at Aeonar that she had learned to stop feeling pain like this. Cuts, and pricks didn't if she didn't want them to. She felt Galel's dagger digging into her flesh like a distant nuisance.

"The second one," he said, and he began carving into her thigh, "now the third," and then her arm. He announced each move before he made it, and he worked quickly. Carving the symbols all over her skin with gentle, quick precision. Unlike the templars at Aeonar, his movements were calming, and in an odd way she felt relaxed. Pampered even.

"Done," he finally breathed, and Kena risked opening her eyes, peeking down at herself.

"That's a lot of blood," she mused, looking to Galel's sweat drenched face, he seemed more nervous than her.

"You'll feel better, once the ritual is done," he said, and held the dagger out to Jowan, "place the same symbols on me, in the same way."

Jowan's hands were shaking, but once he took the bloodied dagger, something in his expression changed, and he seemed calm.

Galel laid out on his back, head to head with Kena.

"Galel?" she whispered.

"Yes?"

Kena turned to face him, and their noses were nearly touching.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Galel swallowed, his voice caught in his throat for a moment.

"You... you have to lay still," he finally croaked, and he returned his gaze to the sky, "save your thanks for after, if this works."

"I know it will," said Kena, and she relaxed into the earth, her eyes closed.

Jowan placed the tip of the dagger on Galel's chest a little roughly, "Ready?" he said, and Galel detected a bit of venom in his voice.

Galel grabbed Jowan's hand, and made eye contact with him, "Are you ok Jowan?"

Jowan seemed to suddenly realize his behavior, and cleared his throat, "I… yes I am," his gaze darted to Kena quickly, before it returned to Galel, "I'm ready."

The elf wasn't sure what to make of Jowan's mood, but he knew there was no point in dwelling on it now, he'd speak with Jowan later.

"Go ahead," Galel said, and Jowan began to carve.

He had to bite his tongue to keep from yelping, the pain was intense. His hands were balled into fists as Jowan cut the symbols into his skin. Unlike Kena, he clearly felt every bit of it.

Kena seemed positively blissful, laying in her own blood, and Galel was both impressed and horrified at how easily she accepted pain.

From the way Jowan had described her, it seemed that Aeonar had changed her deeply. This was no timid, scared mage. She was cold, and she could endure much more than he was led to believe.

This had better work…

"Done," gasped Jowan, relieved to be finished with cutting at Galel's body. "It's time now."

"Let's do it already!" said Kena, excitement in her voice.

Jowan stood up, and held the dagger to his right hand, above Kena and Galel's faces, "Maker help us all."

He sliced his palm in a quick, swift motion. The sensation was familiar, and he immediately felt the electric whips of power in his blood. His skin prickled, and his face flushed.

He had missed the feeling.

He took a deep breath, and whirled his hands above his head, building his speed until he looked like the fire dancers of Rivain. A whorling mist of blood and herbs rose into the air, and the bloody symbols on Galel and Kena's skin began to bubble and burn like hot coals.

Kena finally winced in pain, and Galel yelled out.

Jowan suddenly wanted to stop, subconsciously slowing his movements.

"Keep going!" screamed Galel, "You can't stop now!"

Jowan steeled himself, and ramped up speed until the symbols peeled off their skin. They danced, intertwining in a vortex above them. Jowan could feel warm specks of their blood splattering him on the face.

It felt like hot grease on his skin, and pulled at him, the blood reacting to his power imbued him with a frenzied sense of invincibility. He began to remember why he had been drawn to this type of magic all those years ago. He enjoyed the feeling of power blood gave him, the way it made his heart race and flutter the way it did when he first kissed Lily.

He reveled in it.

And then Lily's disappointed face flitted into his mind, and he nearly lost focus.

Remember why you're doing this…

He began to tie the symbols together, " Like tying knots in a string ," Galel had explained to him. Each glowing bloody symbol began to twist, braid and form an ethereal rope in the air above them. Jowan was channeling the power in their blood. It was intoxicating, mind bending, and he was spinning the ethereal rope until it was a blurred ring of flame whistling above them.

And then it froze in place, and for a moment, Jowan thought he must've made a mistake. The bloody mist slammed to the ground around Galel and Kena and he felt utterly drained.

"Did it work?" he wheezed, the emptiness the blood magic had left in his chest was equally exhausting as it was heartbreaking, and he wiped his watery eyes on his shoulder before bending over and resting his hands on his knees.

Galel and Kena sat up, the symbols replaced by slight, silvery, scars.

Kena stood up and examined herself, "I feel good," she said, looking up at Jowan, "my mind is finally... quiet."

Galel rose to his feet and swayed, Kena reached out to help steady him, and he smiled at her, resting his hand on her forearm, "It worked."

"How can you tell for sure?" said Jowan, cleaning the dagger off.

"We're connected now, I can feel it," said Galel, blinking as if he had a headache, "she'll be hidden behind me, in the fade. They won't be able to sense her as long as we stay close to one another."

"How close?" Kena asked, grabbing her clothes and pulling them on.

"A few miles, maybe more or less," Galel slowly bent over to pick up his tunic and winced, his hand darting to his temple. He rubbed it for a moment before gingerly pulling his clothing on.

"Are you alright?" Jowan asked, but Galel waved him off.

"I'm fine. The ritual… it was exhausting," he said, and then forced a smile.

Something in his expression seemed off to Jowan, but he didn't want to press it further.

"Kena, are you alright?" Jowan asked, pivoting toward his friend, "No… lingering strangeness?"

Amell shrugged, "No, I actually feel pretty damn good."

She jumped up and down and stretched, "Barely any aches and pains."

Jowan felt like Kena seemed to be acting a bit like her old self, but it had only been minutes since the ritual was complete. And he wasn't sure if it was just wishful thinking.

Kena laced her boots and looked at him, "You should find Lily, it'll be dark soon."

Jowan handed the dagger back to Galel, "Right."

Kena stared at him for a moment, and he was so grateful she was looking at him without a look of hatred that he couldn't pull himself to move away, and then she finally offered a weak smile, "Thank you, Jowan."

Jowan smiled so hard he was sure he pulled a muscle in his neck, but he couldn't help it, seeing her smile, at him, after all these years beating himself up for what he had done. He felt a renewed burst of energy, and ran over to hug her.

She was stiff, and didn't hug him back, but at least she wasn't trying to force him away.

"Thank you Maker," he thought, " I'll never screw this up again."

Cullen and Ruvena reached the Gallows quickly, but it was already getting dark and templars were storming about the courtyard in a panic.

Cullen grabbed a young recruit rushing past him, but he was shoved off. The young recruit spun to face him and went pale when he realized he had just shoved the Knight-Captain.

"Maker, oh, shit…" the recruit saluted Cullen, "Knight-Commander Meredith says we must prepare to capture blood mages, she stormed out of here after Orsino, he was heading for the Chantry to protest."

"Protest what man?!" Cullen yelled, grabbing the recruit by the neck of his breastplate and yanking him forward.

"We're going to search the tower!" the recruit yelled, fear in his eyes, and Cullen felt instantly guilty for losing his temper.

He groaned in frustration and released the young recruit.

"She can't do that without the permission of First Enchanter Orsino and the Grand Cler-"

"She's finally lost it!" Ruvena exclaimed, "The paranoid bitch!"

"Ruvena!" Cullen yelled, "You will not speak of the Knight-Commander that way!"

Cullen turned back to the recruit and signed, "Until I've confirmed-"

There was a sudden rumble, and the templars, vendors and civilians milling about the Gallows all paused.

The pressure in the air plummeted, and the sick feeling in Cullen's gut turned into a storm in his insides.

"Cullen…" hissed Ruvena, "what is-"

An ear splitting whistle cut through the air.

A red beam shot straight up into the sky, a cloud of smoke and dust cascading upward into the air behind it.

"Everyone take cover!" Cullen yelled, "Ruvena!"

"On it," she yelled back, jumping into action and ushering civilians and recruits toward the cover of the balconies. The beam continued to burn in the sky as stone, and dust and whatever it was crawled up along the beam into the sky, swirling into a cloud of fast moving refuse.

And then there was a boom that nearly threw Cullen off his feet.

He barely managed to yank a merchant and his son behind a pillar as a thick wave of dust and smoke slammed into them.

It was only a moment, his skin stinging from the wave, and when he opened his eyes, all was white, and deathly silent.

"Cullen?" came Ruvena's voice emerged from the cloud and then she coughed, her blond head popping out of the miasma and wiping dust from her eyes.

"Maker, are you alright?" he said, rushing over to make sure she wasn't injured.

Ruvena swatted him away and examined the mess, "What the hell just happened?"

As the confused cries and panic began to spring from the denizens of the Gallows, Cullen took in a deep breath, and steeled himself.

It was mages, of that he was certain, and unlike his time in the Circle Tower of Ferelden, he would make sure that he protected his friends this time.

"Gather the senior templars, there will be a battle tonight," he commanded, looking squarely at Ruvena.

Ruvena crossed her arms across her chest and bowed low, her earlier perturbed expression replaced with deep lines of worry. As soon as she rose, she began commanding the others, and rounding the others.

Cullen breathed out, he hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. He felt his mind slipping, he didn't know how much longer he could cling on.

He was suddenly aware of a clinking sound, and he looked down to see his hands shaking. He balled his hands into fists and stumbled backward, blindly, barely managing to find a secluded area under the balcony where he collapsed against a pillar, shaking and sweating and barely able to breath.

The smell of destruction, the screams, and the look of terror on the recruit's faces were bringing back the memories he had thought were behind him. He tried to suck in a breath, but felt suffocated and grasped at his breastplate in a futile attempt to rip it off. He was shaking badly, his armored fingers clumsy and lost, against his own neck and his vision was blurred with tears.

Uldred's face flitted at him, and he slammed his eyes shut.

Stop, please… not now!

The depravities of the senior enchanter came back full force, he hadn't had an attack this bad in years.

And then he heard a woman's voice in his ear and he spun around with a yelp. An image of her face slammed into his mind, and he was once again back in the Circle Tower. The demon with her face cackling in his mind like a sick joke.

"Enough!" he cried out, waves of negation bursting off him.

And then his mind cleared, and he looked around, breathing a sigh of relief that no one had seen his little tumble down the rabbit hole. He gritted his teeth and clambered back to his feet, the echoes and memories fading into an annoying whisper. His head was pounding, the blood rushing in his ears so hard he couldn't hear.

He began muttering the Benedictions to himself, the way he was told to do after his ordeal:

"Blessed are they who stand before

The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.

Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just."

He felt his heart calm and he breathed out, the dizziness waning. He tried to focus on how heavy his armor was, and on the smell of ash and fire filling the air:

"Blessed are they who stand before

The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.

Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just."

He took in a deep breath, and left the safety of the pillar. This was no time to fall apart. Kirkwall needed him:

"Blessed are they who stand before

The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.

Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just."

The screaming of a commoner nearly sent him reeling again, but he bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, and he kept reciting.

And reciting.

And reciting until all he could hear or think was the chant. Andraste would save them, the way she had saved him all those years ago in Ferelden.

Cullen Rutherford hadn't clawed his way out of Ferelden, suffered humiliations at Meredith's hands and earned himself the title of Knight Captain just to fall apart because of bad memories.

He took a deep breath, and steeled himself.

"Knight Captain! There are reports of apostates at the Docks! The Champion is with them!" a young recruit screamed.

Cullen clasped the young man on the shoulder, "Do not falter! We must secure the Gallows first, the Docks can wait until later!"

The recruit nodded, relieved to have orders, and Cullen shoved him on his way.

"Maker help us all," he whispered to himself.

A/N: Thank you all for your comments! You've really helped me to feel better. :)