Settling in Skyhold

A while after Hawke had left, Varric stood by himself near the fireplace. Hawke had made his feelings about the Chantry's actions known, but Varric felt like he was still going to catch shit from the rest of Inquisition, especially now that the Champion was no longer here. But after seeing that bastard Corypheus again, and watching him destroy Haven, Varric felt guilty about not telling the truth about Hawke. Maybe then Corypheus wouldn't have kicked their asses.

The Inquisitor approached the dwarf, and now Varric knew he was probably going to get it. "Look, Inquisitor, I didn't mean to keep Hawke a secret. I told Cassandra and the Inquisition everything that seemed important…at the time."

"Only a true friend wouldn't betray his comrade with someone like Cassandra threatening to stab you…in the books." Amongst the Dalish, no one ever sold out a member of their clan. Rajmael admired Varric's loyalty. "Still, it would've been nice to know about Corypheus before I had a mountain dropped on me."

"I don't really know what The Elder One is, when we first went into his prison, I thought he was just another darkspawn. I'm not sure Corypheus really knows what he is, either." Varric answered as he stared into the flames. "He claims to be a magister, a priest of Dumat, in fact. And he says he broke into the Golden City, you know, like in the Chantry tale. Bianca and I stuck that bastard with so many arrows I had restock my whole supply for the year. And even after Hawke cut off his head and Blondie incinerated his carcass, he still comes back to haunt us." Varric sighed dismally and wiped his hand over his face in despair. "I thought the Wardens imprisoned him to use as a weapon, but forgot about him. Now I think they imprisoned him because they couldn't kill him, and chose to forget he even existed. Maker's breath, what have I unleashed?"

"You weren't the one who created the Blights, you weren't the one who destroyed the Conclave and opened the Breach. That was all on Corypheus." Rajmael consoled.

"I was the one who found Corypheus' prison, I lead Hawke into the mountains where he was unleashed." Varric countered dismally. "Some people, like the Seeker, would see that as guilt by association."

"Wrong." Rajmael put down. "Corypheus knows exactly what he is doing, and doesn't care. He chose to kill the Divine, he chose to open the Breach, and he didn't care about the consequences. You didn't make Corypheus into a murderer, he chose to be one."

And here Varric thought he was the one better suited to talking. Rajmael's words actually relieved him a little bit. "You know, I've never been good at the whole religious thing, it's always been too complicated. Never really knew where I stood in all that. But you do a good job of the whole prophet/savior bit."

"I don't need, or want, a disciple Varric. I need friends." Rajmael said truthfully as he held out his hand to Varric. "And from what I've seen with Hawke, I'd be lucky to have a friend whose half as loyal and entertaining as you."

Varric smiled that signature grin of his and shook Rajmael's hand affirmatively. "Now, that is something I can work with, Rajmael. It's good to know where I stand in all this."

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael finally made it up to the rookery and found Leliana giving orders to some of her agents. As they nodded their head and were dismissed the Inquisitor noticed that Sister Nightingale looked forlorn.

"Is everything all right, Leliana?" Rajmael addressed.

"Yes." Leliana started but then looked away. "Everything is…no, everything is but all right."

"How do you mean?"

Leliana heaved long sigh. "Everything that happened at Haven, we lost so many good men and women when that…thing attacked. I feel like it all could've been avoided."

"You did the best that you could." Rajmael said, trying to console her. "There was nothing you could've done."

"But there was!" Leliana insisted. "I had scouts and agents positioned all throughout the area. But when some of them went missing, I ordered them to pull out instead of having the men do their job. If they had stayed to fend of the Red Templars so many dead now would still be alive."

Rajmael didn't like the sound of that. "You pulled your men out because you were looking after them, no commander can do more than that."

"My agents and I know the risks." The spymaster argued. "I pulled them out because I was emotional, if the life of one agent can save ten, then it's worth the sacrifice."

"Our agents, soldiers and mages, are people too, Leliana." Rajmael shot back. "If we abuse our authority and treat those under our command as battle fodder, no matter the excuse or outcome, we are just as bad as Corypheus."

Leliana pondered that for a moment and her mind turned back to the Blight. It was hard to believe that it was just ten years ago and already they have another world-threatening crisis on their hands. She thought of Ostagar, Aedan and Loghain. Loghain had sacrificed his army and his king at the disaster of a battle and he believed that it was all for the greater good of Ferelden, but he didn't stop there. He began to organize assassination, waged war on his own people, and became a slaver and still told himself that he did it for the sake of his nation's freedom. Aedan on the other hand, inspired others to follow him, and despite his foul temper and willingness to commit violence, he succeeded. He didn't sacrifice anyone, he inspired others to go into the dragon's maw with him without regrets. But Aedan only ever cared about Ferelden. As far as Aedan was concerned, the rest of the world could burn.

"If there's one thing I learned from Aedan Cousland, it's that the only way to protect what you love, and avenge what you've lost, is by being utterly ruthless and destroy our enemies without remorse." Leliana said despondently. "And against an enemy like Corypheus, we cannot afford to do anything less."

Rajmael remembered the Leliana he met back in the future. How devoid of emotion and compassion she was. How the Elder One drained everything vibrant and beautiful about her. Rajmael could not let that happen to her walk down that path. "If we use our people as board pieces to be discarded and replaced, how can they trust us to save the world?" Rajmael replied honestly as he remembered what a Keeper's duty to their clan. "It is when times are darkest that our ideals matter the most. And that is something we can't let Corypheus take from us, or he wins no matter what."

Leliana's face was like frozen ice, but Rajmael could see that her heart and her mind in conflict through her green eyes. "I will…consider what you've said, but I make no promises. Corypheus is far too great a threat to be taken lightly."

"That is all I ask, Leliana."

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael decided to speak with Josephine and see how their progress was coming along as an established entity. When he came into her office he was most certainly not surprised to her handling several messengers and liaisons concerned about several different matters. One was a dwarven emissary from King Bhelen Aeducan's court who Josephine was trying to negotiate a garrison of the Legion of the Dead soldiers from. Another was a member of the Fereldan Crafter's Hall here on behalf of trade contracts for Skyhold. The last one was a Rivaini captain from the Felicisima Armada of all people.

Josephine addressed each of them while signing important documents, and without even taking her eyes off of her clipboard. All while maintaining her poise and graceful, charming demeanor.

"Please tell King Bhelen that if he, and the deshyrs of the Assembly, start a suitable loaning contract with us, then I promise to get him trade routes beyond the Orlesian Empire and its civil disputes."

The dwarf bowed his head in agreement. "His majesty will appreciate you lending us aid in these turbulent times, my lady."

"Master Dryden," Josephine continued. "If your Uncle Levi can guarantee a yearlong supplying contract with us then I will arrange for your family to establish your businesses in Val Royeaux. Procure us your Uncle Mikhael's weapon and armor schematics, and you will receive trade routes through the Free Marches."

"The Dryden Family will be honored to do our part, Lady Josephine." The merchant promised.

Josephine finally turned her attention to out of place sailor in the middle of the mountain. "And Captain Cisco, if you can secure sea trade to our suppliers, both in Ferelden and in Orlais, I will see to it that your ships will have legal status as privateers for the Inquisition, provided that you act accordingly while flying our colors."

"Admiral Isabella is the very soul of modesty, Madame Montilyet." The Captain promised with a joking grin full of gold teeth.

"So I've heard." Josephine responded sarcastically.

"You will not regret this decision." The captain swore.

The three dignitaries all bowed in respect and conclusion as they made their way out of the office, leaving The Inquisitor alone with The Ambassador.

"Making yourself comfortable already, Josephine?" Rajmael grinned.

"Oh, I've had to." "Josephine exhaled. "We are now recognized as a legitimate organization, and we are growing. To keep up with the new numbers and favors being asked of us I have to secure necessary trade and shipping routes, as well as financiers for our future endeavors."

"It must certainly be arduous doing all this by yourself."

"What? No, hardly, my lord." Josephine waved off. "This sort of thing is exactly why Leliana recruited me. Dealing with people from different lands and cultures and getting them into agreement is exactly why I became an ambassador. I can't bear the thought of someone else doing my job for me." The smile slowly faded from Josephine's face. "And I've needed to keep busy to keep my mind off of…recent events."

Rajmael hadn't realized that Josephine had probably never even seen a fight, only read about its statistics on a scroll, and didn't take into account how the attack on Haven might have affected her. "Are you alright? I understand that what happened at Haven was…traumatic."

"I've had to sign various death certificates, and make funeral arrangements for everyone we lost at Haven." Josephine answered with despair. "Do you know who first raised arms once Corypheus breached the village? Our workers and laborers. They were so proud to serve the Inquisition, and were so willing to defend it. Corypheus cut them down like they were nothing."

It was almost heartbreaking seeing someone so unused to the brutal reality of conflict and death be so vulnerable. Rajmael knew Josephine had the inner strength to talk down military and royalty, but she couldn't bear the thought of having others die for her. "Their lives will not have been in vain if we succeed, Josephine."

"I know. And at least they will have found peace at the Maker's side." Josephine wiped her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. "Please, let us move on to more immediate concerns. Congratulations on your new role and title, after what you've accomplished with both the mages and the Breach there is no one I'd rather have leading this Inquisition."

"With the whole world now watching everything I do, I just hope I won't make a complete ass of myself on an international level." Rajmael laughed.

"Yes, that would be most unfortunate." Josephine smiled. "While we're on the subject of the world viewing, how would you prefer to be addressed? A man of your stature must be addressed by the proper moniker if you are to command the proper respect."

"I prefer to be addressed by name, Josephine." Rajmael answered.

"That is proper for those you know on a personal level, but now that you are in command of a powerful title, you must be addressed with the proper respect." Josephine explained. "In matters regarding, and when others address you, would prefer, 'His Holiness', 'His Worship', His Eminence?"

"None of those!" Rajmael said insistently. "Such titles are an insult to my gods. No one should be the object of another's worship."

"That will not stop others from addressing you as thus." Josephine replied. "But I understand your reservation. When the Inquisition acts in your name we shall limit our addressing of you to 'Lord', or 'Grace'."

"I can accept being addressed with respect, but I don't want people treating me as though I'm some kind of demi-god." The Inquisitor stated. "That kind of thinking is exactly why the Chantry is falling apart, and we must be above such grandstanding arrogance."

"I understand completely, my lord." Josephine confirmed. "We are institute of various people and beliefs. It is good that you understand and respect such truth with humility."

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael decided to finally address that strange boy that warned them of Coryphues, Cole. Who or what was he that he could look into the minds of others? He couldn't truly be a mage, Rajmael would have sensed his magic. Yet, somehow that boy was able to get into his head to warn him. What was he? Where the hell was he?

Rajmael walked the steps into the lower courtyard and saw Cole sitting on the grass watch ants march by, while Vivienne, Cassandra and Solas were discussing their newest residential oddball.

"This thing is not a stray puppy you can just adopt." Vivienne said condescendingly. "It has no business here."

"Wouldn't you normally say the same thing about a heathen elf and an apostate having no place leading an Inquisition?" Solas returned. Vivienne said nothing.

Rajmael looked Cassandra while the apostate and the Grand Enchanter glared daggers at each other.

"Inquisitor, I thought perhaps Cole might be a mage, given his…unusual abilities" Cassandra informed.

"He can cause people to forget him, or even fail to notice him entirely." Solas added. "These are not the abilities of a mage. It seems that Cole is a spirit."

"It is a demon." Vivienne sneered.

"If you prefer such a description, but the truth is always somewhat more complex." Solas countered calmly.

"Spirits are creatures that embody a purpose or trait." Rajmael recited from his teachings under Keeper Deshana. "If Cole is in human form, what manner of spirit is he?"

"I am not certain." Solas answered with approval. "But he came to assist you, clearly he is a benevolent spirit."

"It is a demon." Vivienne insisted disapprovingly. "Theirs is never the kind of help anyone needs."

"I'm not sure we can even define Cole's nature of purpose."

"Speak plainly, Solas." Cassandra dictated as Cole looked like he was trying to catch rays of sunlight. "What are we dealing with here?"

"Demons can only enter this world through possessing a living thing, or by being summoned and bound through certain rituals." Solas reminded.

"You're not saying anything none of us don't already know, dear." Vivienne criticized.

"Cole is unique." Solas answered. "He manifested himself into the physical world and assumed his own tangible form to walk amongst us. He looks like a young man, for all intents and purposes, he is a young man. I have never seen or even heard of a spirit with such clarity of purpose to physically place itself in the physical realm. But if you want more concrete answers as to what Cole wants, or what he is doing here, I would suggest asking him."

"I would advise against that." Vivienne interjected. "Mages in the Circle must face a demon to pass their Harrowing, and if they fail and become possessed, the templars must slay them. We cannot afford to be putting the Inquisitor in such peril because Solas wants to indulge his unnatural fascination with creatures from the Fade."

"I agree." Cassandra added. "We do not know what dangers we risk by having Cole here. We should tell it to just leave. Spirits are never creature to take at face value."

"And what do you two know about spirits exactly?" Rajmael asked sardonically.

"All that needs to be known." Vivienne answered. "The Harrowing…."

"The short answer: nothing!" Rajmael interrupted. "You two know as much about spirits as you do about Rivaini seers. I will speak with Cole, and then I will decide what is to become of him."

The Seeker and the Grand Enchanter both had an unhappy grimace on their face, while Solas smiled to himself as Rajmael walked over to Cole. The young man was standing by himself in the courtyard near the makeshift hospital camp, looking at the wounded.

"Andaran atish'an, elgar." Rajmael greeted, wondering what Cole's reaction might be.

"Hello." Cole answered. "I know what you said, but I can't say elven words very well. They come out of my lips all wrong."

Spirits could enter, and were reflections of those that dream. They were not limited by a language barrier. "So, you are indeed a spirit."

"Yes." Cole answered almost inaudibly. "I used to think I was a ghost, I didn't know. I made mistakes…but I made friends, too."

"What kind of spirit are you?"

Cole looked over to a soldier laying down on one of the cots. He looked like he was in agony. "Haven, so many people fought so that others could escape. So much pain, and fear, and screaming. White hot pain searing in my chest, it hurts." The soldier ceased his struggling. "Dead."

There was nothing anyone could have done for that man. Rajmael knew that. "You can sense the pain and distress in others?"

"Yes. But I can also look for ways to help the hurt. To make it not as painful." Cole looked to another battered soldier laying down by a dying fire. "He's dead. I can't believe Alec is dead. Cracked brown pain, dry, scraping. Thirsty." Cole walked over to a nearby water basin and filled the nearby water dipper. He brought it to the man's lips and helped him drink. "Shh. Sleep now. When you wake up, your pain will be gone, and your friend's death won't hurt you anymore."

"You can dip into the minds of others and remove their pain? As well as their memory of you?"

"Yes. Pain can do terrible things to people, I've seen what it can do. So I help them to forget, so the pain doesn't spread in them like a poison."

This was incredible. A physically manifested spirit whose purpose was to aid others. This was something for the history books. "Why did you warn me back in Haven that Corypheus was coming? Why are you here?"

Cole looked intently at the grass with pain on his face. "I thought I was real, that the life I saw before was my own. But a templar proved I wasn't real. I lost my friends, I lost everything. But Rhys said that I could be more, that all spirits were not the same." Cole turned to face Rajmael, the determination in his eyes was obscured by his outlandish hat. "I came here because I to be more than just a spirit. To be stronger. To help people. That was why I became Cole."

Rajmael took a moment to look at the determination on this young man's face. No spirit he ever encountered so willingly made himself so real before. Perhaps Solas was right. "I believe you, Cole. The Inquisition needs to people who are eager to aide others."

"Yes, help the people who the Elder One is hurting." Cole stated with monotone happiness. "Stop him and the Venatori from hurting anyone else." Cole looked to another soldier whose face was twisted in pain. "Hurts, hurts, hurts. Maker, please make it stop hurting. Make it stop." Cole looked back to the Inquisitor pleadingly, and brandished his dagger. "The healers have done all they can for him. It will take him hours to die. Every moment will be agony. He wants mercy."

Rajmael shook his head sadly. "Take away his pain, not his life."

"But the pain will only come back, and he'll still want to die."

The Inquistor reached into his satchel and pulled out a dried root. "Grind this into a powder and make him drink it. It will help the pain." Cole put his dagger away and gently took the root. "It isn't our place to decide when the suffering should die, Cole. That kind of judgement is reserved for the gods."

Cole gently clenched the root in his hand. "I will try. I will try to be better."

~XoXoXo~

Cullen was in the middle of the courtyard giving out direction to some of the Inquisition's men. To the soldiers he assigned their posts in the keep, the architects he told what parts of the castle needed clearing and reconstructing.

"Are you still feeling the effects of the Champion's little outburst, Commander?" Rajmael asked as he observed the two cotton balls in both of Cullen's nostrils.

"Oh, not so much now." Cullen answered as pulled the cotton balls out of his nose and threw them away.

"Do you think Hawke was a little too harsh?" Rajmael asked wanting to know his honest opinion.

"No." Cullen answered stoically. "He merely stated the truth. The Chantry and the Templar Order failed him one catastrophe after another, we couldn't even save Hawke's mother because we were too busy cracking down on the mages under our charge. And I wronged him personally." A look of guilt spread on Cullen's face as he remembered his past. "For years I knew that Meredith was treating the mages harshly and unfairly, but I turned a blind eye, using what happened to me back in Ferelden as an excuse. After everything the templars put him through, I should be glad punching me was all he did. And after what he did to the Arishok, I was lucky his punch didn't break my face."

Rajmael was surprised at how well Cullen was taking this. The Commander was obviously looking for a new direction in his life. "Well, maybe this Inquisition can do better. So that people like Hawke and his family don't have to go through what he did."

"The Inquisition is already changing the world." Cullen stated honesty. "You may not believe yourself to be the Herald of Andraste, but you are the Herald of the new world that's coming out of the Dragon Age. Things are never going to go back to the way they were before."

"How do you figure?" Rajmael asked.

"Well, for starters, the Circle of Magi and the Templar order are never going back to serving the Chantry after all of this. Maker only knows how the Chantry itself is going to survive this."

Rajmael rolled his eyes. "Let's not make this about the Chantry, what do you think the mages and Templars should do after all of this. The Inquisition can't won't have authority over the mages forever, and I doubt many are going to look favorably on the Templars after they've offered their allegiance to the enemy of all Thedas."

Cullen looked intent for a moment. "Personally, I believe that The Circles should be given their independence from the Chantry altogether, and continue to be institute to instruct and nurture mages, and that the Templars should still be their guardians should there be corruption."

"Well, how is that any different than from before?" Rajmael inquired.

"Instead of answering to the Chantry, whose views are usually very biased, both factions should be answerable to the country in which they reside, but retain their own authority within the Circle ranks." Cullen answered. "The templars should answer to whoever rules the country, and the mages should continue to teach and learn magic while acting as healers and educators for the government."

"And what if they don't want to stay in the towers for the whole life?"

"Well, with Circle instructions and with the permission of the government they should be allowed to seek military service or apothecary but no matter what they should still have some sort of oversight from Templars."

Rajmael didn't know if he liked the sound of that. "What's to stop the Templars from abusing their authority again?"

Cullen gave a slight smirk. "Because they won't have any true authority over Templars and Mages should have equal authority and say in what happens in Circle politics, while being mediated by an envoy from the crown. No one faction should have authority over the other, and all should work for the betterment of the world. The Chantry has only ever served its own agenda, maybe it's time for the Circles to serve something less superficial."

Rajmael liked that his general was just talking and not barking orders and decided to keep the ball rolling. "And where would they get lyrium?"

"I have no idea." Cullen sighed wearily. "That would be up to the kingdoms of Thedas and Orzammar, and I'm no politician. It's all an idea right now anyway." Cullen rubbed his temples like he had a headache. "Hopefully, I'll be alive when that happens."

"Hopefully, we all will." Rajmael added.

~XoXoXo~

Just like when he first arrived back in Haven, Rajmael found Warden Blackwall staring towards the sky, this time at the battlements and walls that protected Skyhold. And instead of looking with awe, he looked with the keen eye of an experienced soldier. The veteran Warden invited The Inquisitor to walk with him around the ramparts and examine their fortifications.

The two warriors looked out into the wide mountain gorge from the top of Skyhold's mighty walls. "This place is every war leader's dream come true." Blackwall approved. "Our backs pressed against the mountain with tunnels for escape and supply, plenty of fresh water. One way in, one way out, and we can see our enemy coming for miles."

"Corypheus caught us by surprise in a village built for pilgrimage. He will not have the same advantage again." Rajmael confirmed sternly. "One way or another, he is going to die for what he's done."

"You don't need to tell me twice." Blackwall agreed with gusto. "Corypheus killed a hundred loyal men and women, but he made a thousand enemies when he attacked Haven. I swear I'll take that twisted beast down, even if I have to die to do it."

"I've lost enough loyal people to that thing. I don't need to lose another." Rajmael said respectfully.

"Hey, I'm a Warden. Killing darkspawn and dying in the process is practically in our recruitment brochure." Blackwall laughed. "Look, despite the situation, and having an ancient magister crushing Haven, there's still hope. People are flocking to your banner in droves because they believe in you, what you've done, what you can do." Blackwall walked further along the ramparts before turning back to face Rajmael with a serious look on his face behind his thick beard. "Tell me honestly: are you what they say you are? Are you the chosen of Andraste?"

Rajmael gave a deep, dismal sigh. "No. I wish people would understand that I don't believe in Andraste, or the Maker. And I know that it sounds selfish, but I'll always put my beliefs before theirs. I'll honor my gods before I even think of theirs."

"Well, so far you've done a better damn job of it than the rest of the world has." Blackwall sighed. "Maybe there's more to your elven gods than most people would give credit for. But whatever you claim to be, or what name you call your higher power, you're a symbol of hope, of victory to these people. Don't discount the affect you have on these people."

"I guess a Grey Warden, you'd probably know about that. Especially considering what your Order did in Ferelden."

"When people see the Griffon's Banner flying when their surrounded by hordres of Blighted blackness, they feel hope, and that chance for victory. It gives them something to fight for." Blackwall spoke with reverence. "The Inquisition could be that, and more. Ah, but listen to me go on like some old fish wife. I've wasted enough of your time. If you need me, I'll be by the stables."

~XoXoXo~

As Rajmael walked down from the battlements he saw Iron Bull speaking with his men. It was almost a reflection of Rajmael's own personal entourage: a colorfully diverse group of trained killers and questionable sanity. But they all seemed pretty friendly with one another, laughing, joking and having a more than mutual respect for one another. Rajmael still found it hard to believe that a man as gregarious and obviously loves to enjoy life like Iron Bull was a Ben-hessrath agent, considering he acted the exact opposite of an ideal Qunari. But then, that was probably the whole point of being a spy, not being expected, it was the first rule of being a good hunter amongst the Dalish.

The Iron Bull waved Rajmael to come over and meet him as The Chargers walked into the newly established tavern. "So, Inquisitor, huh? Well, you definitely got the fortress for it now. How's your new title feel?"

"We only made official what was already the case, Bull. The only thing that's different is the scenery." Rajmael answered.

"Right. A change of scenery after an ancient Vint asshole tears your old place apart with his pet dragon, everything is the same." Bull said with a sarcastic smile.

"Well, when you put it like that…."

"Hey, you wanna spar? Dyin' for some action." Iron Bull requested eagerly.

"Training weapons only." Rajmael consented. "I don't have time to look for a new mercenary captain."

"Yeah, and I don't think we can replace you with another Inquisitor who can seal Rifts." Iron Bull chuckled.

The one-eyed qunari and the elven mage made their way over to a makeshift sparring yard. Iron Bull found a decent training axe while Rajmael held a simple training sword. The two of them assumed their stances and prepared for their match.

"You're not going to use any of that fancy Arcane Warrior stuff, are you?" Bull asked trying to hide his dislike for magic.

"Oh, trust me, Bull. I won't need it." Rajmael smiled.

"See, now I actually have to hurt you." Iron Bull promised as he swung his axe with a powerful left. Rajmael evaded the powerful swing with grace.

"So how do you like your new title and position, boss?" Iron Bull asked as he swung.

"It's a colossal pain in the ass." Rajmael answered as dodged each swing. "As the first of my clan I was trained to lead, but being a symbol of something I know nothing of, and having people look to me like that, is something I was never prepared for."

Iron Bull drove an over headed strike down on Rajmael with astounding speed. "Yeah, I get it." Bull confirmd as the spry elf jumped out the strike's way. "It's hard to be just an idea. I know every soldier under my command, you don't have that luxury. Now you've got to live up to that expectation everyone has of you."

"Not too much pressure, right?" Rajmael moved Iron Bull's blindspot and tried to stab him, the muscle-bound oxeman knew how to defend his flank. "If they ever find out how much this job scared the crap out of me, their opinion might change."

"Hey, come on, it's not the bad." Iron Bull responded as pushed the elf away from him. "The idea of who you are and what you can do is what brought them to you in the first place. Who else can say that? You've got a good army shaping up here, don't forget that."

The two of them stopped talking and focused on each other for. Rajmael could tell Bull adapted his style to protect his blind side, which made him somewhat predictable. Rajmael feigned to to Bull's left were his dead eye wouldn't help him, and as expected, Bull moved to defend, then Rajmael quickly swung a solid stroke to his opponent's open right side. What he didn't expect was for Iron Bull to just take the hit and pound him in the chest with hard elbow jab. Rajmael went back several feet and Bull didn't even look like he felt the hit.

"I've got to ask, boss: how does a mage get so good at fighting?"

"Evanura, my clan's best swordsman and her husband, Nethras, our clan's best hunters, taught me." Rajmael answered as he reassumed his stance.

Iron Bull charged in with incredible force and speed, swinging his axe with powerful intent. "Yeah? You guys close?"

Rajmael continued to dodge Iron Bull's attacks with focus. "Their daughter is my godchild."

Their weapons locked and Iron Bull used his immense weight to press the Inquisitor down. "And did they teach you anything really good."

Rajmael smiled slyly at the one-eyed qunari agent bearing down on him. The elf shifted to the side and sent all of Iron Bull's weight driving forward. As the qunari's momentum sent him forward, he planted his foot down hard to regain his control and spun back around with a powerful swing at his elven opponent. The instant Bull turned back around, Rajmael was in his center with his hands on Iron Bull's weapon. The elf shifted the qunari's center of balance, with his ranged negated. Before Iron Bull had a chance to know what was happening, all three hundred pounds of him was sent flying forward and onto his back with a resounding thud.

"Nethras taught me some tricks. Evanura taught me even more." Rajmael answered as he placed Iron Bull's axe at his throat.

"Good one." Iron Bull groaned as he looked at the three Inquisitors standing over him. Iron Bull picked himself back up and tried to shake the dizziness off of him. "What kind of move was that?"

"Dalish martial arts." Rajmael answered as he walked away. "We've become very good at learning how to beat bigger opponents."

As Rajmael walked away, Iron Bull couldn't help but wonder about the formidability of the Dalish Elves. The qunari knew very little about the nomadic elves who wandered the wilds of Thedas except what elven converts told them, which wasn't very much. Even the Chargers' own not-mage spoke little of her people. The Qunari opinion of them was very low; they pitied those elves who wander around like vagabonds with no purpose, trying to revive what has already died. But Iron Bull believed now more than every that a single Dalish clan was probably more worthy of respect than many military garrisons he'd seen. The Dalish were constantly at odds with world, with nature and hostile humans, yet despite the odds stacked against them, they not only survived, they've thrived. Every Dalish elf was a warrior in their own right by necessity, ever Dalish elf worked, knew a trade and contributed to the whole of their clan. Perhaps the Dalish were more worthy of more respect than the Qunari gave them credit for, and Rajmael only proved how worthy they are.

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael walked down from the battlements and back down into the courtyard. Rajmael always got a slight stinging sensation in his forehead when Sera came near him. It was probably her annoying voice. Her annoying haircut. Her annoying…everything.

"Hey, you, Inquisitor. It is Inquisitor now, right? Got a minute?" Sera asked in her usual annoying demeanor.

"I got five." Rajmael answered trying to hide his annoyance.

"So, remember that little war we talked about stopping? Full of little baddies I could stick with little arrows? That's not a friggin' Archdemon is it!?"

"You were in Ferelden during the Blight. You tell me." Rajmael countered.

"No one can explain what the frick that Coryphy-shit is!" Sera practically shrieked. "All I know is that dead magisters who started the Blights can't be real! That just makes sense right?"

"I don't know. The darkspawn magister and the Archdemon that took a shit on my doorstep seemed pretty real to me."

"No. No. NO!" Sera denied. "That can't be real, 'cause I can't use arrows on stories that are not real. 'Cause that means that mean's Coryphy-thingy cracked the Golden City, seat of the Maker, blah blah blah. But if that's all real then that means the seat of the Maker is real, and a seat needs a butt to sit in it. So the Maker, real thing, and all the stories about the end of the world?"

This was surprising yet extremely aggravating. "I thought you believed in the Maker and Andraste?"

"I believe!" Sera defended. "Except there's supposed to be real, and not real, then really real!"

Now this woman was giving him a really real headache. "You claim to believe in a higher power, but then you doubt everything you see and hear?"

"But it can't all be true, really true. Even fanatics don't want to be this right."

"The Venatori certainly seem like they do."

"Look! All I want is for things to get back to normal so I can go and play." Sera said putting her foot down. "Look, I have arrows, I believe in those, and I'll make Coryphinus believe in those, too, alright? And then we can get things back to normal, and I can have fun."

"If you only want to have fun then why in Mythal's mercy did you come here in the first place?" Rajmael finally inquired. "You had to know that we were probably going to get into some very ugly shit to fix the problems going on."

"What? What do you mean? To help people." Sera answered apprehensively.

"Right, because you knew that the Inquisition is exactly the way you want it to be."

"Fine." Sera groaned. "Look, maybe I do believe, but it's all really fuzzy. Maybe I want to know if it's really real. I just don't really know if I really want to know."

"Well, that makes absolutely no sense at all."

"Well, why do you believe in all that elfy stuff?" Sera asked offensively. "I heard you say you were originally born as people, not Dalish. So why'd you stay, get your face all tattooed and believe in all that 'Lost Glory' crap. It's not like any of that can be real."

"Says the woman who barely believes in the god she's chosen." Rajmael replied sardonically. "I don't wear the vallaslin to distinguish myself from other elves, I where it to honor the god I have chosen to follow. And just so you know, the Dalish are people, too."

"But why believe in any of it? Doesn't seem to do anyone any good." Sera practically whined.

"That's the meaning of faith, Sera." Rajmael answered. "Faith is not some kind of insurance you fall back on, and use as an excuse to make yourself feel better or superior. And it seems between the two of us, my faith is more concrete than yours."

"Whatever." Sera scoffed. "I know arrows, and I know baddies that need arrows sticking out of 'em, and you're the one leading the fight against 'em. That's real and what matters. So let's just work with that, deal?"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Sera. But I know what I believe, and what I'm here for." Rajmael said with confidence. "Food for thought."

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael looked for Solas and was not surprised to find him in the library, but was incredibly surprised to see the older elven mage painting the rotunda. And it was magnificent. He was using a oil paints to depict with his fingers and a specially made cloth to depict the mural's meaning. There were several murals depicted on the wall in bright and dark abstract colors. One was of the Breach tearing the sky apart, another was the image of a mage standing faceless and alone with serpents crawling up one side. The last one depicted a dark shadowy figure with clawed hands spiraling around a sphere as it stood before a burning temple: this was Corypheus' attack on Haven. Rajmael hadn't seen this style of elven art since before Evanura died.

Solas noticed the Inquisitor staring at the mural's with his mouth ajar while he was cleaning his hands. "The inquisitive mind must have a hobby, to occupy the hands and provide a positive outlet." Solas explained. "What do you think Inquisitor?"

"This is magnificent!" Rajmael marveled. "This is Elven styled fresco! Where did you learn it?"

"I'm surprised you know what it is." Solas complimented. "Even amongst the Dalish this is a rare art form."

"Evanura, my clan's best swordfighter, studied this art form." Rajmael replied. "She said it unveiled the truth through elven eyes."

"Well, she sounds like she had a vibrant soul." Solas commented. "I learned this art medium from spirits in some of the ruins I explored. And as much as I like a complimentary critic, I don't think you came here to speak of artistic mediums."

"No I didn't." Rajmael confirmed. "I came here to ask you for something."

Solas quirked an eyebrow curiously. "Oh? And what could I give you that you cannot with your new title?"

"Knowledge." The Inquisitor answered firmly. "You know more about the ancient secrets than anyone else in the Inquisition, you've seen them in the Fade! I need to know exactly what we are dealing with. What Corypheus is, the power he commands. That Orb he wields. These are things I must know, and you're the only one who can give me any answers."

"Very well, Inquisitor." Solas relented. The younger elf wanted, needed answers. And he was the only one who could provide even the tiniest glimpse into their enemies true nature. "In the time of the Elvhenan Empire, the elven gods would communicate with the People at certain places through certain rituals. These sites became temples, and the men and women overseeing them became priests. And within the most sacred of these ancient temples, guarded by legions of deathly loyal worshipers were objects of immense power that channeled the power of our gods throughout the empire. Objects like the Orb that Corypheus carries."

Rajmael shook his head in frustration. "The ancient empire was gone centuries before Corypheus was even born. How could he have gotten his Blight-ridden hands on such a powerful artifact?"

Solas turned his head away from Rajmael and looked up at the fresco he had painted of Corypheus' attack on Haven with a bitter grimace on his face. "As you are no doubt aware, Tevinter was built on the ruins of the Elvhenan Empire. They stole our great relics and knowledge for their own, and even claimed that such knowledge was given to them by the Old Gods. It is the same with Corypheus. He may think that the Orb is Tevinter in origin, but it is, and has always been elven. Like most power that Tevinter claimed was theirs."

"Do you truly think that Corypheus is what he claims to be? One of the Magisters who entered the Fade and started the Blights?" Rajmael asked seriously. "Could he have used the ancient knowledge of our people to infiltrate the Dream World?"

Solas turned to face Rajmael with an equally serious look, but with something else behind his eyes. Pain? "He is a power hungry despot from a long forgotten time built upon slavery, blood and deception. Then as now, he is meddling with forces he does not truly comprehend without any care for the consequences. And now...he seeks to resurrect the world he helped destroy by eradicating this one and establishing himself as its new god. That is all he is. And whatever religious or historical implications his existence may have pale in comparison to the damage Corypheus will do."

~XoXoXo~

After getting Solas to agree to teach him, Rajmael decide to take a moment to enjoy the library. The Inquisitor stood in awe by how such a large tower was dedicated to housing books, and was further impressed by how many there were. Great Dirthamen. Rajmael had never seen so many books and was decided to take a moment to inspect what they had.

Rajmael just pulled the first book right off the shelf and didn't even bother to look at the title he began skipping through the pages until he saw an excerpt that caught his eye. A Complete Study of Elven Rituals & Customs.

"Oh, I wouldn't, Inquisitor." Dorian chirped from behind him. "That one's full of Orlesian propaganda, and racist superstition." The Tevinter mage handed out another book. "I'd try this: The Pursuit of Knowledge by Brother Genetivi. There's some facts worth knowing in there."

Rajmael took the tome and noticed how intently Dorian was scanning the various books and tomes that filled the shelves. "Looking for anything in particular?"

"Looking for anything that may tell us anything about the Elder One and his charming pet." Dorian answered.

"You think the dragon that blew up our base was charming?" Rajmael asked sarcastically.

"Oh, don't you know? We Tevinters love dragons to death, we make statues of them, stitch them on our clothing, we even used to worship them." Dorian's face became unusually grave. "Then one of those ancient dragon worshipers shows up, out of the blue, and kicks your little base into dust like an ant hill. All those stories about my countrymen breaching the Fade and bringing the Blights to the world was true. We destroyed the fucking world."

"Last I looked the world isn't destroyed yet, Dorian."

"But not for a lack of trying, and Corypheus wants to pick up where he and my ancestors left off." Dorian said with pain in his voice. "And I have no doubt there's no shortage of my own countrymen lining up to join him."

"Why would anyone want to join something so abominable?"

"Everyone back home remembers back when we used to rule every corner of Thedas and will do anything to bring that world back, but what they don't realize is that it was our ancient glory that brought us to the state we're in now in the first place." Dorian explained fervently. "And now an ancient darkspawn magister with magicks that haven't been seen in a thousand years and promises of glory and godhood. So once again, the world will be brought to ruin by Tevinter hands."

"I don't know about that Dorian." Rajmael answered. "If we succeed, the world will have been saved by the aid of Tevinter hands."

"If only more people back in Tevinter would see it that way." Dorian sighed. "Alexius and I used to about changing Tevinter from the inside over a glass of port every night after a long day of experimenting. He taught his son to believe in the same ideas. But when Alexius' wife was killed by darkspawn on route to Hossberg and Alexius contracted the Blight, Alexius was the first magister to join the Venatori's cause. Sometimes I wonder if I should even bother. No one will thank me for this because of who and what I am. No one will thank you either, you know. No offense."

"If I cared about what anyone else thought about me, I wouldn't go around barefoot with tattoos on my face." Rajmael answered with a smile on his face.

"Ha! I knew there was something I liked about you." Dorian chuckled. "If only Alexius saw it this way. I know Felix would have."

"Wait right here and give me a moment." Rajmael bid as he walked back down stairs. He came back a few minutes later and handed Dorian a very familiar weapon. It was an ancient staff forged of purest steel with intricate runes and serpentine designs etched into the shaft. The bottom end of the staff was a straight-bladed spear head with a crescent blade at the base of the spear. The head of the staff was in the shape of a crescent with a flame shaped tip in the middle and a hooded skull stamped on it. And there was an inscription etched down the shaft: Feel Toth's blessing fill your soul, and feel his strength in your hand. The Old God of Fire has bestowed his gift to all mortals. Fire is life. Fire is destruction. Fire is power. Let Toth's followers wield his flame, and let his enemies burn in it.

"I recognize this staff." Dorian confirmed. "It was Alexius'. House Gereon descends from the Dreamers who served Toth, the Old God of fire, and this has been in their possession for centuries. Alexius intended for Felix to wield."

"And now you will." Rajmael insisted. "Don't focus on the memory of what destroyed your country, but wield the memory of your friend, and your mentor, and the ideas that you dreamed of. Because now it is up to you to carry that torch."

Dorian took the staff and felt its power surge through his arm and throughout his body as the staff's head burned with power. "Yes. I understand what you're saying. And if I don't carry on, everything Felix and his father believed in will have been for nothing."

"Wield your friends' memory and dream for a new Tevinter, and use it to burn Corypheus and all his Venatori suck-ups into ash." Rajmael finished with a smile.

"And I will at that!" Dorian laughed as turned back to the books on the shelf. "Oh, and congratulation on the promotion by the way. I gave Josephine the names of a few contacts in the Magisterium, with any luck, we'll get some more modern-minded Tevinter support against Corypheus."

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael decided to see what Vivienne was up to and was not surprised were she had taken residence. She had moved all of her belongings to the floor above the throne room that overlooked everyone the throne and all of the agents of the Inquisition. Figures she'd want to place herself above the rest.

When he had gone greet her, Rajmael found men moving his furniture out of his quarters. When he asked the movers what they were doing, they told him his bedding had become infested and noticed that Vivienne had a slight smirk on her face. Now Rajmael always enjoyed a good prank, being quite the prankster himself back with his clan giving Keeper Deshana reasons to lecture him, but from Vivienne? This was new.

"What's this all about, Vivienne?" Rajmael inquired.

"I have no idea what you mean, my dear." Vivienne replied in furiously arrogant tone of hers. "You the Inquisitor whom saw fit let loose unsanctioned on the world without the appropriate over sight."

"Sanctioning mages, as you so put it, is what caused the mages to rebel to begin with." Rajmael argued.

"And now all the malcontents who do not wish to wield their magic appropriately now have an excuse to join the Inquisition, filling the ranks with mages whom are far more susceptible to falling to possession and harming this organization's cause. Hardly an improvement, darling."

Okay, he was getting really tired of this woman contradicting him at every turn, and being an all-around bitch. It's time to remind Madame de Fer of her place. "Who's the malcontent, Enchanter? You're the only one who's on board and not enjoying the cruise."

"Perhaps it's because I know the ship is doomed to sink." Vivienne retorted.

"Oh? And I suppose you know all about how the malcontents, as you call them, should be treated. What the fuck do you know?"

"A great deal more than you, Inquisitor." Vivienne seethed. "Unlike you, I didn't spend my life hiding in the woods, far from the civilized world."

"Civilized? Says the woman who lies and whores herself to get what she wants." Rajmael saw her eyes twitch slightly. He was starting to get to her. "Tell me Vivienne, what fraternity where you apart of prior to the dissolvent of the Circle?"

Vivienne paused for a moment. "I wasn't a part of any fraternity. My association with the Orlesian court often kept me away."

"Ah, I see. Then where were you when the Mages officially gathered to discuss the events and mistreatment of the mages in the Kirkwall Circle?"

That glare of Vivienne's became more intense. "I was attending matters at court."

"Oh? Okay, then. Um, where were you when all the Fraternities of Magi conveyed in the White Spire, in the very heart your precious Val Royeaux, when they all decided to break away from the Chantry?"

Rajmael could now feel her glare trying to burn a hole through him. "I was…."

"I know where you were, and who you were doing, Vivienne." Rajmael hissed. "You were never apart of a Fraternity, you never took part in any the Circle's politics, you weren't even there when the most important decision in the Circle's history was decided! And now, after never having anything to do with the Circle of Magi, you think you know what's best for mages? Don't make me laugh!"

"And you think that you know what's best? You're sympathetic and limited thinking will undo any good this Inquisition accomplishes." Vivienne gritted through her teeth. "I was loyal to the Circle, and earned my standing in the world, you were merely blessed by circumstance, by your own admission."

"Don't try to play the insightful mage bit with me, Vivienne." Rajmael chuckled. "You have to dedicate yourself to something for that. When I first heard of you, I thought Madame De Fer was someone great, someone worthy of recognition, but then I realized you're just another shemlen. Selfish, arrogant, and full of vanity. You're antiquated way of thinking is no longer the way of things. You are irrelevant to the world you now live in, Vivienne. So you can stand in line or stand aside, but don't stand in my way." Rajmael's eyes began to glow dangerously with power. "And don't ever try to fuck with me. I'll burn you so badly Andraste will feel sorry for you. Dirthara-ma benal-enaras, tel na emahl'a vhenan."

"Such as rustic elven phrase." Vivienne sneered. "Whatever is it supposed to mean?

Rajmael smiled sinisterly at the Grand Enchanter. "I truly hope you find out." Vivienne just sat on her resting chair with a glare so full of hatred, the smile on Rajmael's face grow even wider. The look of her eye twitching with anger was hilarious. "Oh, and by the way Vivienne I'd consider getting new furniture."

"And what's wrong with the furniture I have?" Vivienne replied quirking an eyebrow.

Rajmael snapped his fingers and a spark of flame lefts his hands and landed on Vivienne's books and quickly set her furniture and other belongings ablaze. "Because it's on fire." Rajmael finished, not even bothering to look back at the Grand Enchanter as she used an ice spell to douse the flames.

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael decided to take a moment for himself and wander the magnificent garden that Skyhold housed. The ground here was fertile with life that one would not expect to find in a frozen mountain range like the Frostbacks. As he stood by himself, comtemplating the flora around him, a pair of elves, a man and a woman, approached him shyly. Their faces were bare, and their approach was timid, so it was very obvious they were city elves, and they seemed to be husband and wife. The woman was carefully holding a bundle in her arms, a newborn baby, she was sleeping gently.

"E-excuse us, y-your worship." The man addressed.

Rajmael raised his hand insistently. "Please, call me Rajmael."

"Oh, o-of course, Rajmael." The elf stuttered bashfully. "My name is Endel, and this is my wife Maram." Maram lowered her head sheepishly while carefully holding her child.

"We're here as part of the castle's staff and we brought our daughter, Elora, with us." Maram informed as shyly as her husband, barely making eye contact with The Inquisitor.

"Well, you and your family will find no safer place in Thedas right now." Rajmael promised with a smile.

"We were hoping that while we're here that you could bless Elora." Endel beseeched.

"It would be a tremendous honor for our family." Maram added.

Rajmael's golden eyes lit up as a smile crossed his face. He hadn't dedicated a child since Eva was born, and since he was the First of Clan Lavellan, he knew the proper rites. "I would be honored to give a blessing to your baby."

"Oh, wonderful!" Maram cried softly as she leaned her baby out to The Inquisitor.

Rajmael lifted his hand over the sleeping babe's head. "Elora. Dalen, tir sulahn'nehn. Ar las enaste'a Mythal, Sylaise, Dirthamen…."

"Wait, wait." Endel interrupted with confusion. "Wh-what blessing are you giving?"

Rajmael was equally confused. "I am bestowing the blessings of the Creators?"

"Oh. Well, that's good and all, but we were hoping that you could give our child the blessings of Andaste." Maram answered. "You are Her Herald, are you not?"

Rajmael felt his heart sink inside his chest. It was bad enough that humans labeled him for a deity he didn't worship, now his fellow elves were asking him for something he didn't know. "I am sorry, but I cannot give you what I don't have. Please, excuse me." Rajmael bowed his head respectfully and motioned the parents and their child to leave him.

"Was it truly necessary for you to deny them like that, Inquisitor?" Mother Giselle asked sincerely. "Surely your blessing is not so much to ask for from new parents seeking faith?"

"They were asking for something I don't possess, something I know nothing of." Rajmael answered lividly.

"They, and many others like them, look to you as they symbol of the Maker's will, Inquisitor." Mother Giselle. "Surely there is no crime in kindling their faith?"

"Would you ever bestow the blessings of Urthemiel, or Dumat, upon a newborn baby instead of the Maker's?"

The Chantry Mother's eyes went wide at the very suggestion, but she maintained her composure. "No, never."

"Then what makes you think I would do the same thing? I cannot put the blessings of another god over my own because it is blasphemy, Mother Giselle." Rajmael exerted. "I have my own beliefs."

"I understand that." Mother Giselle insisted.

"Do you?" Rajmael asked almost offended. "Do you know what a Dalish Keeper is?"

"I know that they are the ones who lead your Dalish clans." Mother Giselle answered. "But I know little more than that."

"They are more than that." Rajmael added. "Before your kind stole the Dales from my people, the Keepers were the priests in charge of keeping the temples we dedicated to our gods. When you took the Dales from us, the Keepers became the guardians of what precious little of our lore and history we recovered. And I was the first to my Keeper. So for all intents and purposes, I am a priest. And despite what you and the rest of your kind may think, we do have a religion. We're not just dancing around in loincloths around a fire, praying to animal bones!"

"I am sorry. I did not mean to cause offense." Mother Giselle apologized.

"Your people's faith is weak, Mother Giselle." Rajmael finally spoke his mind. "You rely on grand temples, and statues, and self-appointed holy titles to inspire and give people faith."

"It is not weakness to try inspire and guide the faith of others, a faith that tens of thousands of humans and elves adhere to." Mother Giselle defended.

"They adhere to it because you ram it down their throats and turn against them if they don't." Rajmael countered. "Let me show you something." Rajmael reached into his satchel pulled out the little totems of his gods and handed three of them to Mother Giselle. "These are the tributes of my gods that I use to invoke my faith. They're not gold, or silver, or alabaster like what you use. Just wood, stone and glass, and I made them all with my own hands. Do you know what my parents had?"

"What did your parents have?" Mother Giselle indulged as she held the little statues between her fingers.

"Absolutely nothing." Rajmael answered emotionally. "No religious tomes, no statues, or holy relics. Just a prayer they recited every morning and every night, and a couple of poorly made, ancient totems made of worn out rock. They told me that it's only when everyone else tells you that your faith is a lie that you realize it is not, because that's when you find it."

"They sound like they were wonderful people." Mother Giselle admitted.

"They were wonderful people, and it destroyed me when I was forced to watch them die because of what they chose to believe." Rajmael said with pain cracking his voice. "So who do you think has the stronger faith, Mother Giselle? The Grand Cleric who sits in halls of marble, protected by her templars and surrounded by adulation, or the little old elf in the alienage who doesn't even speak a word of elven, and recites tales and prayers his grandfather told him, and then passes it down to his grandchildren?"

"Matters of faith are never contests, Inquisitor." Mother Giselle answered evasively.

"Really? Seems to me like half the Chantry's history has been nothing but a great, big pissing contest." Rajmael responded blithely. "It's getting late. And I've had my fill of theological rot for today."

~XoXoXo~

Cassandra watched The Inquisitor leave the garden after overhearing his entire conversation with Mother Giselle. She saw the smile on his face when he was bestowing that blessing on the baby, and she saw the sadness in his eyes when they rejected his gods' blessing. Cassandra never took elven beliefs into consideration, or the people who actually value them. She always pitied those who didn't know the light of the Maker, but Rajmael spoke of, and stood by his faith with the dedication and piety of loyal priest. And the Seeker couldn't help but wonder, how many people would actually worship the Maker if the Chantry didn't force them to?

"It seems every time I try to speak with him about faith and the Maker, I always go two steps backwards." Mother Giselle said sadly, knowing that Cassandra was listening. "But I must admit that his loyalty to his faith is admirable. His gods are fortunate to have him."

"He is an admirable man, Mother." Cassandra agreed. "Anyone should be lucky to have him at their side."

"Speak with him, Cassandra." Mother Giselle insisted. "He is hurting inside, I know he is. Perhaps, as a companion, you could help him to know his place here."

"I'm not even sure I know if I deserve to be here, Mother Giselle." Cassandra confessed. "What right have I to console him?"

"You know what it means to serve loyally, to dedicate your life to a cause despite the odds against you without fear or care for what others think." Mother Giselle answered. "Use this as common ground. Perhaps he will be more open to one he fights alongside with, rather than one who lectures him."

"I…will try." Cassandra conceded.

~XoXoXo~

What am I doing? What am I doing? Cassandra thought to herself every step she made up the tower to The Inquisitor's bedroom. She was not the most ladylike of all women, but even she had reservations about going into a man's room unannounced, especially when that room belonged to the Inquisitor.

Once again Cassandra walked in on Rajmael while he was having a private moment. And once again he was completley shirtless, wearing nothing on his upper body except his amber amulet. Maker's breath, she had terrible timing. Cassandra noticed the totems of his gods were standing in a row on his desk with a candle lit in front of them. He must have just finished his prayers.

And once again she failed to hide her presence from Rajmael. "Is there something I can do for you, Cassandra?" The Inquisitor asked with his back turned to her as he looked over the castle near the balcony.

"I overheard what you said, and thought perhaps you would care to speak of it?" Cassandra said with as much confidence she could muster, she was so glad he wasn't facing her. The look she had on her face was probably embarrassing.

"Which talk? The one I had with Cullen, Sera, or Vivienne? I've had a pretty lecturing day."

"The one with Mother Giselle." Cassandra answered.

"Oh." Rajmael sighed deeply and full of depression. "I never wanted any of this. All this reverence, people looking to me like I'm kind of savior, it's just not me. I had hoped that when the Breach was sealed I could finally go home."

"I know this isn't what you wanted, Inquisitor. But so long as Corypheus is out there we need you to lead this Inquisition. You're the only one who can." Cassandra said assuringly.

"They don't follow me." Rajmael scoffed. "They only follow that titles that are attached to me. The Inquisitor, The Herald of Andraste."

"You don't know that." Cassandra insisted.

"Don't I? Did you know that the elves had a part in the creation of the Grey Wardens?"

This was unexpected. "What? I…"

"Most people don't. My ancestors contributed knowledge they kept safe since the fall of Arlathan in exchange for the Wardens' aide in liberating my people from the Imperium. But the Wardens swore an oath of neutrality, and their promised aid never came. We had to wait another hundred years and ally with Andraste to get our freedom."

"And Andraste promised you the Dales. I remember." Cassandra added.

"Many did not survive the long journey to Halamshiral. And when the Second Blight occurred my people chose not to help. We still remembered how no one came to our aid against the darkspawn, and we were still rebuilding our culture. We didn't want to lose what precious little we regained, so we stayed neutral. And not a hundred years later, the Chantry broke Andraste's promise, and stole our land from us, while stripping our people of our culture, saying that our greatest sin was denying the Maker, that we needed to be purified. And then they just gave our land away to the Orlesian Empire, like it was some trinket to be bartered, like Andraste's promise meant nothing."

Cassandra couldn't help but feel guilty as he spoke of his people's sad history. She had always spoke of justice, and lived to serve it, but never considered those that the Chantry wronged. And she acted no different when she first met him. How could she be so blind? "What has been done to your people was terrible, I know. I wish I could do more than apologize."

"If the people out there knew I was just Rajmael Lavellan, First of Clan Lavellan, the thousands of faithful would not even bother with me. No one would follow a pagan heathen."

"That isn't true." Cassandra answered. Without thinking, she stood next to him, and placed her hand on his. "I would follow you, and many others would, too. I have seen who you truly are when you stood in the Hinterlands, liberated Redcliffe and faced the Elder One. No matter what name you call your higher power, I would follow you, and no one else."

Rajmael held Cassandra's hand and squeezed it gently. "Why would you follow me, Cassandra? Even though I could never share your faith?"

Cassandra felt her heart thud in her chest, and let the truth slip out. "Because…you're the best man I've ever met. I have feared you since the moment we first met, I've known anything like it. But I could never have accomplished the things that you've done."

Rajmael longingly pressed her hand against his cheek. "When you found me in the snow, Cassandra, I thought you were the goddess Andruil. No other creature alive could be so strong and beautiful. I…don't want you to fear me, Cassandra. Not you."

Cassandra felt her cheeks burning when she recalled that moment. The heat from his face traveled from her hand and through her whole body. Her heart raced insider her chest and her knees felt weak. During all her years of training, action became instinct, no thought required. And now there was no thought, no care any longer, Cassandra could only act on what she felt. His golden eyes met hers as she brought him into a gentle kiss.

Rajmael reciprocated Cassandra's kiss as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Cassandra wrapped her arms around Rajmael's neck and deepened their kiss even further, she could feel the wieght of his body pressing against her. Warmth and electricity filled her whole being as he held her close to him. Cassandra felt her heart skip a beat when Rajmael boldly pressed his tongue against the entrance of her mouth, she gladly accepted him. The two lovers drank deeply of each other's as their tongues danced in heated passion and desire.

A few minutes later the two found themselves completely naked on Rajmael's bed. Cassandra didn't care how soft the bed was, she could have been on the floor for all she cared; all she cared about was how wonderful Rajmael's body felt against hers. She loved the way the waxy texture of his scarred body felt against her flesh, how his bare chest grinded against her breasts as he planted his kisses on her neck and collar bone.

Cassandra hardly ever took the time to notice how attractive elves were as a whole, and Rajmael was beautiful. She loved the way his skilled hands explored every inch of her body, and how his kisses left a burning warmth behind on her skin. All her life, Cassandra rarely allowed herself to know the full pleasures of being a woman, and Rajmael was showing her how blissful those pleasures could be. She couldn't help but think about how many of the other members of House Pentaghast would die from shock if they knew she was sleeping with an elf. The very thought of it made her giggle involuntarily. Her giggles turned into moans of pleasure as Rajmael planted his fervent, hungry kisses between her breasts.

It had been years since a woman elicited this kind of passion from Rajmael. Ever since Evanura was killed he never thought he'd feel this way about another woman, let alone a human. Cassandra's body was strong and athletic, not a trace of fat to be found on her body, save for her perfectly formed and wonderfully soft breasts. He hungrily kissed the valley between her cleavage as his hands firmly squeezed and stimulated her breasts. Rajmael heard his lover's breath become more erratic as he gently bit his teeth around her areola while his tongue flicked her nipple. Cassandra's long, smooth legs wrapped tightly around his waist and held him closer to her, the feeling of her smooth flesh was like heaven against his burn scars.

Amidst the throes of passion and carnal pleasure that Rajmael's oral assault on her breast brought her, a very naughty thought crossed Cassandra's mind. With her lover held tightly between her legs, Cassandra rolled him off of her and straddled his waist. Cassandra gave Rajmael an unusually sly smile that made him shudder in anticipation. Cassandra slowly glided her skilled, dexterous hands down his chest and felt the strong, highly toned muscles beneath his scarred flesh. Maker's breath, his body was strong. She didn't know mages could possess such wonderful muscles. An excited gasp escaped Rajmael's lips as he began to feel what Cassandra was actually doing to him.

Rajmael had never felt anything like this during sex before, granted he never slept with a Seeker before. She was using her abilities as a Seeker to ignite the lyrium in his veins. It filled him with a carnal warmth and increased his desire a hundred-fold. Cassandra was actually using her Seeker abilities as an aphrodisiac, and it was working. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Rajmael pulled his lover into fierce and hungry kiss, their mouths savored the exotic taste of one another, as he threw her underneath to take her for himself, and Cassandra gladly welcomed every bit of him into her.

Throughout the whole night, and into the wee hours of the morning, the two lovers rode on waves of carnal desire as they took one night to forget everything around them. Tonight, there was no Corypheus, no Chantry or Dalish, breakings of taboo between the faithful and a heathen. Tonight there was only two people, and the passion they shared for one another. Rajmael and Cassandra consummated their passion until they were completely satisfied.

Hours later the two lovers laid together in each other's arms, covered from head to toe in a sheen of sweat with content smiles on their faces. Cassandra cuddled into Rajmael's chest and rested her head over his heart, listening to his gentle heartbeat as he held her close. It was like decades worth of stress, pent up aggression and absolute need had just exploded into carnal release, and she was with him. Her uncle and half of House Pentaghast would burst into flames from shame and outrage if they found out. Oh, Maker, she was a very happy woman right now.

"They will say one of two things about me." Cassandra sighed contently. "That I stood at the Inquisitor's side, his protector, and his lover. That it was meant to be. Or they will say I was led astray from the path of faith by the wiles of an elven madman."

Rajmael smiled and kissed Cassandra gently on the lips. "I already know all that needs to be said, Cassandra." Rajmael took the silver chained, amber amulet with the heart shaped sylvanwood leaf encased in it, and set it around her neck. "Ma emma vhenan'ara. Ne mar ashara Ar lath. Na sahlin gir ma vhenan."

Rajmael's words made Cassandra's heart flutter. She didn't understand his words, but she could sense his meaning. "What does that mean?"

"You are my heart's desire. You are the woman I love. And you're the one who holds my heart." Rajmael answered with joy in his eyes.

Cassandra felt her heart swell with joy. The one desire she never thought possible had actually come true. Her knowledge of the elven language was poor, but the words she did know would suffice. "Ma nuvenin, ma vhenan."

The two lovers embraced once more, not in heated passion like before, but in content acknowledgment of what they truly felt for one another. Cassandra slept happily in the Inquisitor's arms, and for the first time since Rajmael joined the Inquisition, there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

Language Codex:

Andaran atish'an, Elgar: Elven greeting. Roughly translated, "Enter this place in peace, spirit."

Dirthara-ma benal-enaras, tel na emahl'a vhenan: Elven curse. Roughly translated, "May you learn humility, and may it crush your heart."

Dalen, tir sulahn'nehn. Ar las enaste'a Mythal, Sylaise, Dirthamen: Elven blessing. Roughly translated, "Child of joy, I grant you the blessings of Mythal, Sylaise, Dirthamen, etc.

Ma emma vhenan'ara. Ne mar ashara Ar lath. Na sahlin gir ma vhenan: Elven endearment. Roughly translated, "You are my hearts desire. You are the woman I love. And you are the one who holds my heart."

Ma nuvenin, ma vhenan: Elven endearment. Roughly translated, "As you wish, my heart."