Many thanks to all of you for reading, and particular thanks to suilven for her awesome betaing skills!

Cullen bent his head, closing his eyes, praying to see only the sweet imagined face of Andraste, or nothing—anything but the lascivious images of Leyden he had seen when the demons tortured him, the dreams of her in his arms again, the nightmare of himself ripping her guts out as she became an abomination. They had known just where he was most vulnerable, just where the pain would cut the deepest, and they had struck him there over and over and over.

If this was what mages lived with, how did they endure? They didn't—he had seen that for himself, seen mage after mage buckle under the onslaught and give themselves over to the demons. And then … Leyden herself.

He had thought her a demon herself, at first, or another figment of the demons' fevered imagination, but she had been all too real, and all too distant. Whatever had been between them might as well never have existed.

Only later, watching her accept the caresses of the red-haired bard, watching her eyes follow longingly the broad shoulders of the warrior, had he come to understand her faithlessness. He had loved her with everything in him, but she …

Aware suddenly of a presence beside him, he lifted his head, seeing a small woman kneeling next to him. Blinking in confusion, he gradually came back to the present, to the broken tower as it was today, and remembered the dwarven girl who had come to study.

"Are—are you an Andrastean?" he asked her, genuinely curious. Did the dwarves even know about the Maker's Bride?

"No," Dagna said cheerfully. "But I want to know all about her. I want to know all about everything here." She looked at him, her eyes bright and curious. "Can you teach me?"

Cullen leaned over the desk, his knuckles braced against the surface, staring down at the box that lay there in front of him. He wanted it; oh, how he wanted it. The relief from the pounding pain in his head, the weakness in his muscles, the confusion that buzzed in his brain at all the wrong times. The power that he could practically feel surging in his veins, making him the equal of any mage that might come at him.

… They came at him, whispering, their voices soothing in his ears, promising, giving him visions of her …

He gritted his teeth. The demons wouldn't go away if he took the lyrium, he told himself again. He knew that … but it didn't stop the traitorous murmurs of his own mind, the hope that maybe if he took it, there would be silence, and the memories would be lost in the song of the lyrium.

Didn't he owe the Inquisition the fullness of his strength? Shouldn't he be at his best, not fighting a war on two fronts?

Cullen straightened, his resolve firming. Much as he dreaded the look in Thule's frank blue eyes when he told him what was going on, he owed the Inquisitor as much honesty as he could bear. Striding to the door, he called the nearest soldier to him and asked the man to fetch the Inquisitor as soon as he had a moment to spare.

He returned to his chair, leaning back in it with one ankle resting on the other knee, his fingers tented as he stared at the vial. If he listened hard enough, maybe he could hear the song …

"Cullen, you asked for me? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

Looking up, he shook his head. "No, you are interrupting nothing. I was merely … Do you know what this is?"

Thule smiled. "Of course. I was Carta, remember? I've probably handled more vials of that stuff than you have."

"Ah. Yes, no doubt you have." Cullen pushed his chair back and stood, feeling more comfortable on his feet, more capable of taking whatever might come. "As leader of the Inquisition, I thought … I thought you had a right to know."

"That you take lyrium? I knew that, Cullen."

"No." Cullen took a deep breath, then let the truth out. "That I no longer take it."

Thule's eyebrows rose. "Really? Well, that's a surprise." He studied Cullen carefully. "You want to tell me about it?"

"I … you know about lyrium, how it eventually comes to control us, what it does as we continue to take it?"

"Yes. I also know that cutting off the supply can lead to madness, and often death. Are you sure this is the right course for you?" There was no censure in the dwarf's voice, but he was as utterly serious and humorless as Cullen had ever seen him.

"I … yes. I … think so?"

"Not easy, is it?" Thule frowned. "How long has it been?"

"Since before I joined the Inquisition. Months."

"And this is only just coming up now?"

Cullen looked up, his eyes meeting Thule's. "It isn't something I go around shouting from the rooftops."

"No. And I haven't always been the Inquisitor. Fine. Then … how are you handling it? I have to say, lyrium withdrawal explains some things."

"No doubt it does." Cullen sighed heavily. "I just … after what happened in Kirkwall, I can't—I won't be bound to the Order any longer. I will break this chain, whatever the cost to myself. But … I would not put the Inquisition at risk."

"How do you propose to keep from doing that?"

"I have asked Cassandra to watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised … she will see that I am relieved from duty." Even in the extremity of his embarrassment, he didn't miss the way Thule's face softened when Cassandra's name came up.

"Well, if anyone can be trusted to tell a man when he has failed to measure up, she can." Thule grinned briefly, then sobered. "For what it's worth, I respect what you're doing, and why."

"But you worry."

"Of course. That's half the job." Thule smiled again, softer this time, and took his leave.

Only when he was gone did Cullen see the other dwarf who stood in the doorway, her eyes wide as she stared at him. "So that's why you've been in such pain. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Dagna, I …" Why hadn't he told her? He had told her everything else. "I …" The words came from him without thought. "I didn't want you to think less of me."

"Cullen. How could I?" She came toward him. "But I could help."

"With magic?" he asked softly.

"I'm a dwarf."

"You are a dwarf with more magic at your fingertips than many mages; it merely works differently."

"Oh." Dagna's cheeks pinkened. "That's very sweet of you to say."

"It's the truth."

"Then you won't let me help?"

"Just … talk to me. That helps." He looked down at her, studying the curves of her face and the brightness of her eyes. Her cheerfulness had drawn him out of the dark many times already; didn't she know that? "It helps a great deal."

"Then, in that case …" She reached for the box that still lay open on the desk, closing it and tucking it away on a shelf, and then she took a chair. Within moments, she was chattering away, and Cullen was able to go back to work to the soothing sound of her voice.

Lilias found her sister in the tavern, alone at a corner table with a bottle in her hand. As Lilias approached the table, Bethany picked up the bottle and tipped it back, drinking long.

"I never knew you to drink so much before," Lilias said, taking a seat across from her sister.

To all appearances completely sober, Bethany stared at her before swigging from the bottle again. "Welcome to the Grey Wardens."

"I'm not a Warden."

"Then don't judge me."

Lilias bit her lip, trying not to snap at her sister. "I wasn't judging you. Just making a comment."

"Pretty judgy comment, if you ask me. But then, you didn't ask me, did you? Never did. Maker forbid anyone but Lilias the Wise make any decisions or have any input into the running of their own lives."

"That's not how it was! You would have died down there if it wasn't for the Grey Wardens!"

"Wake up, Lilias! I did die down there—my body just hasn't gotten the message yet." Bethany stood up, the chair scraping loudly on the floor as she kicked it behind her, staring down at Lilias. "Grey Wardens are nothing more than walking corpses." Before Lilias could respond, Bethany looked up and a dark, sardonic smile twisted her beautiful face. "Oh, and there he is. The Grey Knight, here to save the day and stand up for his precious brothers and sisters of the blood."

"Shut up," Alistair hissed, appearing suddenly over Lilias's shoulder and grabbing Bethany's arm.

"Am I giving away Grey Warden secrets? Silly me, what could I have been thinking?"

"Have some loyalty! That's your family—and mine—you're talking about."

"My family, is it, Your Majesty?" Bethany's amber eyes blazed at him. Lilias was on her feet, disturbed by the undercurrents between the two of them but aware that anything she might do to break them apart would cause an even greater scene. "My 'family' tried to kill me. Should I protect them after that?"

Alistair faltered, the righteous anger fading from his eyes. "Surely …"

"I'm mistaken? Yes, I'm sure I was. I'm sure that when Sigrun ran her daggers through Velanna, that was a mistake. Shall we dig Velanna up and ask her how mistaken she was about dying?"

"Sigrun killed Velanna?"

"Yes." Bethany swallowed, trying to hold on to her anger, but she was shrinking, diminishing, sorrow overtaking her as Lilias stood by helplessly. "Velanna didn't believe it was the Calling, she didn't want to go through any ritual to bind a demon to her, and she called the others the fools that they were." A faint, mocking smile came to Bethany's face as tears sprang to her eyes. "You know Velanna, never afraid to speak her mind." The tears welled up and rolled down her face as she went on, her voice cracking and breaking. "I buried her, my sister in the Grey, in my heart, the way she and her people do; I snuck back when they were gone. If—if I hadn't run …" The sobs took her entirely, as she sagged against the table, her mouth open as she released the terror and the agony and the betrayal of the past months.

Alistair looked as though someone had struck him between the eyes, and Lilias had never wanted more fiercely to take him in her arms than she did at that moment. She wanted to hold Bethany, too, to take her sister's pain away, but Bethany was far from her reach, locked in her own grief and anguish. All these years of fighting, of struggling, and here she was as helpless as she had ever been. What had it all been for?

"What ritual?" Alistair asked at last, hoarsely. "Bethany, what ritual is this? What do you mean, bind a demon to her?"

With a visible effort, Bethany gathered herself. "They—there was an elf, a Warden Commander from—from the Marches, Hatharel. He—he was looking … looking for Corypheus. I told Caron, I told her, and she—she didn't believe me." She gave a long shuddering breath, shaking her head, fresh tears beginning to seep from the corners of her eyes. "Hatharel said—said we could stop the Blights, said this ritual, we could—we could have the power of the spirits to—to defeat the darkspawn. And they believed him. They told us, Velanna and me, they told us we had to do it, for the greater good. And she—"

"Maker's blood." Alistair passed a hand over his face. "I knew it couldn't be good, but I had no idea, no idea at all." He caught Bethany by the shoulders. "We have to stop them!"

She laughed through her tears. "Good luck."

"Are you just going to sit here and drink?" he demanded.

"Alistair."

His head snapped around when Lilias said his name, something bright appearing in his eyes for just a moment. "What?"

"This isn't the time. Let's let the Inquisitor investigate what's out there in the Western Approach, and when we know, we can make plans." Lilias felt the confidence surging in her as she spoke, the certainty that she could and would do something about this problem rising. This was how it had felt to be the Champion of Kirkwall; this was what she had lost when the Chantry fell. This and so much more. She touched Bethany gently on the arm. "Come with me. Let's get you to bed."

"You think I can sleep?" Bethany asked her. "When those I trusted the most turned on me, you think I can ever feel safe and sleep again?"

Lilias took her sister's face in her hands, looking deeply into Bethany's eyes. "I will never turn on you. Never. You can sleep because I'll be with you."

She could see Bethany readying another darkly bitter remark, but something held it back, and at last she nodded wearily. Lilias put her arm around her sister and led her from the tavern.