Mattox blinked his eyes open to a nearly black room. He tried to roll to his side, but his body wouldn't cooperate. He blinked again, trying to adjust his vision to his surroundings. Where in the Maker's name was he? Squeezing his lids shut, he attempted to recall what he was doing before he went to sleep, but try as he might, he couldn't remember.

When he finally managed to turn his head, he opened his eyes again to see a faint light moving toward him. He narrowed his lids to concentrate on the glow but found the effort almost more than his pounding head could bear. Everything was so fuzzy.

As the light drew nearer, he realized it was a magical orb held by someone dressed in a hooded cloak over mage's robes. Was the mage there to do him harm or to help him? Mattox wasn't sure, but his inability to move anything but his head could make the situation problematic.

He concentrated on his muscles and gathered all his strength and will to finally pull himself into a sitting position. "Who are you?"

His voice sounded thick and graveled in his ears, and the effort of talking hurt his throat. He released a sharp cough to clear it then ran his tongue over his lips. They felt dry and cracked against the appendage.

The figure turned its head to either side of it as if making sure they were alone before dropping the hood back and hurrying to close the distance between them. "Mattox!"

Mattox's eyes went wide and his jaw slack. "Sabrina?"

Panic welled up inside him as a feeling of foreboding settled into his gut. He still couldn't recall what was happening before he woke, but he somehow knew danger surrounded them. Tearing his gaze away from the mage, he took in the room surrounding them.

His stomach lurched when he recognized engorged, bloody sacs decorating the walls and the bodies of dead templars littering the floor. He reached out and grabbed Sabrina's free hand but almost withdrew at the contact. Instead of the warmth he expected, her hand felt like ice against his skin. But why?

He returned his gaze to hers to ask but the thought left him the moment he met her blue eyes. His chest swelled as he inhaled a deep breath. As he slowly released it, the feeling of peril returned. He drew his brows together in a pleading expression.

"Sabrina," he said in a hoarse whisper. "You need to get out of here. It's dangerous."

She shook her head. "No, I can't –not without you, my love."

His face altered to an expression of confusion. Did she just call him "my love"? Why would she do that? He dropped her hand and straightened his back.

His eyes narrowed. "Why did you return to the tower?"

"I couldn't bear to stay away any longer," she answered in a breathless voice. "I missed you so much, Mattox. My heart wouldn't allow me to be away from you a moment longer."

Mattox wanted to believe her words, but there was too much wrong with the encounter. He shifted his body away from her farther. "But you're a Grey Warden now. Aren't you supposed to be working to end the Blight?"

Sabrina shook her head and drew nearer. "I don't care about that anymore. I have only thought of you and that kiss we shared since leaving the tower. All I want now is to run away and marry you…if you'll have me."

Mattox's mouth fell open. Sabrina just agreed to give him the one thing that he wanted above all others. His mind raced as he considered her words. Between his sword and her magic, they could fight their way out. He could keep her safe from anything that tried to stop them. Once they were clear of Kinloch, they could go somewhere quiet and secluded, away from the prying eyes of the Chantry. There, they could spend the rest of their days together.

He moved to pull her into his arms, but immediately withdrew his embrace. Although the room around them was warm, almost too warm, her cloak felt as icy as her hand. His chin dropped to his chest before he blew an exhausted breath from between his lips. He should have known better. It wasn't real. She wasn't real.

He waved a dismissive hand at her. "Be gone, demon. I will look upon you no more."

Dropping back onto his side, he closed his eyes against the stinging of tears. He squeezed his lids together before opening them again to find the room around him bathed in torchlight. Looking up at the ceiling, he realized he was on his back and in full armor. The entire experience had been a dream.

The sound of weeping drew his attention. Against the pain wracking his body, he lifted his head to see an odd, magical prison on the other side of the room. Someone was inside. Mattox rolled his body to finally rise into a sitting position so he could learn the prisoner's identity. Although his vision was blurry, Mattox recognized the templar uniform and the curly blond hair. It was Cullen.

The blond man was on his knees with his hands clasped together in prayer. His mournful cries to the Maker were muffled, but the words were clear enough.

"Please, I beseech you. Please let me die."

Unable to keep up his strength to sit any longer, Mattox dropped back to the floor. The sound of armor hitting stone echoed across the room with a tremendous clank, but Cullen didn't seem to notice as he continued to cry out to the Maker. Mattox wondered if there was anyone else within hearing distance to notice but wasn't sure he really cared. Maybe Cullen was right, and death was the best option.

For what seemed like days, Mattox fell in and out of consciousness. Occasionally, he would wake up from a particularly torturous dream to hear mages taunting the templar they had trapped in the magical cage. The gravity of the situation and the danger those mages posed kept him quiet and on his back.

Sometimes when the mages would leave the room, he would wait a while before searching the surrounding corpses for lyrium potions, food, and water. Through it all, Cullen didn't notice him. The blond man either slept, prayed, or simply wept. Lyrium withdrawal likely attributed to most of Cullen's poor mental state, but the mages who held him captive made it worse.

After a while, Mattox ran out of supplies and places to search for them. He felt like a coward but didn't dare venture beyond the walls of the room. His hope was that other templars would arrive to stop the madness and rescue him and Cullen, but no one came. He was on the verge of finally giving up when horrific noises from the Harrowing Chamber above began to permeate the room. The air filled with the sounds of magic sizzling, the growls of unholy creatures, and the screams of people being tortured. It wasn't long before Cullen's cries to the Maker to end it all joined the chorus of terror.

With a heavy heart, Mattox clambered to his knees to join his voice to Cullen's prayers. Until that moment, he prayed to be rescued. Now, he prayed for the souls of the damned who shared his obvious fate. He prayed for death to come quickly to those who had held out against the torture and refused to join Uldred, to end their suffering. Most of all, he prayed for forgiveness of his sins–especially those involving his thoughts of Sabrina.

Just when he had given up hope and all seemed lost, he heard Cullen cry out. "I know what you are, and it won't work. I will stay strong. I will not fall for your tricks anymore."

Mattox felt the presence of someone or something standing above him. In his heart, he knew it was most likely the purveyor of his doom. Even if it was, it was an answer to his prayer. Better to die a quick death now than a slow agonizing one from torture or starvation.

His hands remained steepled together as he released a long, slow breath and opened his eyes. He peered up to behold the sweetest sight he could ever imagine–Sabrina's blue eyes.