The Unbreaking

by LadyAubade

A novelized version of DA:I centering around the love story of Meira Neria Lavellan, formerly of Kinloch Hold, and Cullen Stanton Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition's Forces. In a world determined to keep them broken and apart, they fight to be together. Cameos, blushes, stammering and fluff abound. *Updates Monthly*

58. Compromises

MEIRA

A day had passed since leaving Skyhold, the feel of Cullen and I's last embrace still tingling on my skin. I'd turned as we neared the platform to lower us to the valley below, to see if I could spot him. His golden hair had shone in the sunlight where he'd stood. I'd raised a hand in both farewell and salute. He'd hesitated a moment before returning the gesture. I'd smiled, but felt that loneliness widen in my heart.
Six months. We hadn't been apart but for a few weeks since I'd broken the Rite of Tranquility; we hadn't been parted, but for hours since becoming an item. Now, we wouldn't see each other for at least six months. I knew I had to do this on a number of levels, but I was already missing him terribly.

"Oh, cheer up, love," Isabela's voice cooed next to me. "It'll make the reunion that much sweeter." She sighed, giving me a mock glare. "I am rather jealous. That man just has this...allure."

"Every man...in fact, anything you can sleep with has an allure to you, Isabela," Hawke barked from behind us.

The self-proclaimed pirate queen shrugged. "Life is short. I enjoy it whenever I can."

"And ruin it for everyone else," Hawke growled under her breath.

"Hawke," Fenris grunted.

"Shut it, Fenris," Hawke spit.

"If the Champion wants to rip into me, Broody," Isabela smiled, sardonically. "She's more than welcome to. I'm here to help the Inquisition and myself. I've made that clear. The past is the past, she's the one who can't let go. She's the one that expected more of me than I ever promised to give."

"The same expectation I had of all my supposed friends," Hawke grit her teeth. "The only true friends I had were Varric and Aveline."

"The rest of us did the best we could, Hawke," Fenris offered.

"'The best you could'?" Hawke scoffed. "The pirate queen that slept with anything that moved, wether they were in a relationship or not; who knew the reason for the qunari presence and did nothing to prevent the massacre that occurred in order to keep her treasure. The Tevinter elf that killed anything that moved and was so angry at everything he couldn't accept someone genuinely caring for him. The apostate mage that was an abomination and decimated half the city in the name of mage rights and subsequently helped plunge the world into war and chaos. The Dalish elf that thought blood magic was the way to solve any problem. The reluctant prince that spread the Chant wherever he went and was as sweet as could be until I refused to take the life of another and then vowed war as a repercussion. The dwarf who used me, but eventually befriended me. The warrior woman that spat upon anybody she didn't morally align with until she saw past her prejudices, but had my back no matter what. Have I left anything out?"

"Is this what it was like in Kirkwall?" Ellana asked exasperatedly. "You all constantly at each other's throats?"

"Or in each others' beds," Isabela chimed in.

"Creators," Ellana swore.

"Consider yourself lucky, Inquisitor," Hawke chided. "People actually respect you."

"What makes you think I did not respect you, Hawke?" Fenris questioned, clearly offended. "I did. I realized I was using you and I left. I would not become what I hated. And you know you were using me too. You had eyes for one person who did not share your affection. You took what you could from me and I gave it, taking what I could from you."

"Well, this is awkward," Varric cleared his throat.

I felt eyes on my back and I knew the elf was talking about Cullen. Instead of the worry or jealousy I could feel, I felt compassion for Hawke. I watched her raven hair as she strode ahead of everyone, putting some distance between herself and us all. Cole appeared beside her, no doubt trying to comfort her. I prayed the boy had success.

"So, while you were training with Solas, did you do any crazy Fade crap?" Bull questioned as he came up next to me.

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"Guess I should be more specific, the Fade is crazy," Bull mumbled. "Did you pretend you could fly? Just flap your arms and zip around in there?" When I shook my head, he glanced at Solas. "You ever bang some hot Fade ladies?"

Solas's nostrils flared in agitation. A glare from Ellana being sent towards Bull who flashed her a wicked grin. "No. Such behavior attracts the attention of demons."

"Aww. Demon's crap on everything," Bull groaned.

"Quite," Solas chuckled.

"On that note, Solas," Blackwall piped up, "Sera and I were just talking about you. We need you to settle a question for us."

Solas sighed heavily, agitation plain on his face. "Sera's involved? So this question will be offensive?"

Sera let out a raspberry laugh. Blackwall was clearly trying not to laugh. "Yes, probably. Sorry. You make friends with spirits in the Fade? So um…are there any that are more than just friends? If you know what I mean?"

Solas threw his head back. "Oh, for—really?"

"Look, it's a natural thing to be curious about!" Blackwall put up his hands defensively. Sera was turning red as she held in her laughter.

"For a twelve year old," Solas spit.

"Bull started it! We're just…confirming," Blackwall pressed. "It's a simple 'yes' or 'no' question."

"Nothing about the Fade or spirits is simple, especially not that."

Blackwall, Bull and Sera burst out laughing. "So you do have experience in these matters!" Blackwall laughed.

For the first time ever, I swore Solas was blushing despite his livid face. Ellana had turned on her horse to look at him, a brow raised. I could tell she was holding back a laugh, but anyone else who did not share our face or tells, would see only a fierce glare. "I did not say that," Solas retorted.

"Don't panic," Blackwall snarked. "It'll be our little secret."

Solas called Blackwall something vulgar, earning another laugh from the Warden. "Now who's twelve?"

The rest of the day was spent listening to Bull, the Chargers, Blackwall, Sera, and Isabela try and outdo each other in dirtiest jokes and stories. Laughter and groans shared in equal measure by the rest of us. I threw up a prayer of thanks to the Maker as we approached our splitting point. We camped there for the evening, Ellana, Josephine, Elizabeth Trevelyan, the inner circle, our Kirkwall guests, Rylen and I all meeting for last minute instructions. Charter, one of Leliana's most trusted agents, was already inside the tent as planned, having been disguised as a soldier. Charter was delivering a forged warning from Leliana that we had a Venatori tail that needed to be shaken. Leliana advised if we split at night, the tail would remain with the troops and battalion, accomplishing our goal of keeping the enemy aloof.
Charter instructed that the Inquisitor and the others heading to Val Royeaux were to leave in order to arrive in Jader sooner than planned, while Talitha and Elizabeth were to take a different route to another of Isabela's vessels docked further along the coast, leaving in the night as well. The battalion would head out at dawn as planned. Ellana dismissed the others, wanting to speak privately with Charter, Elizabeth and I.
I donned my disguise to become Ellana. Charter donned my clothing, cloak, and weapons, pulling the hood of the cloak up as she left with Elizabeth. Ellana handed me an extra set of weapons that had been carefully concealed in a hollow tree by Leliana's agents that were sent ahead. I left a few last minute instructions for the battalion for her to pass on to Solana, praying for their safe journey until we met in a few weeks. When time came for us to meet, Leliana's agents were to send word to Ellana when I'd left Val Royeaux. Ellana, escorted by the soldiers marching in Verchiel for Sera, would meet us disguised as me claiming her business in Kirkwall concluded quickly and Elizabeth had returned to Skyhold on Leliana's order. She and the inner circle traveling with her would split off from the main group to see to "Inquisitorial business", escorting her to the meeting spot with the troops. We would swap roles in the night and continue on to regroup with the troops and battalion, the rest of the inner circle joining us along the way.
Ellana was to remain in the tent while I left with the others. Sharing one last hug, asking her to pass on my farewells to our family, before I put my back to her, I hesitated. I missed Ghilani's comforting presence as the wolf had gone with Solana. Ghilani seemed to understand that she could not be with me and had gone willingly. Taking a deep breath, I walked out the tent to join the others.
When morning came, I sat upon my horse which looked similar to Ellana's, but had a sweeter temper. Missing Ellana, but knowing she was safe among the throngs of the battalion and troops, I focused on Isabela's ship, Siren's Call II. I bunked with Josephine in one of the tight rooms, the woman taking the past few days in stride despite her obvious discomfort.

"Talitha?" Her sweet voice spoke in the darkness. It seemed neither of us could sleep.

"Yes?" I murmured.

"Wh...What made you develop feelings for the Commander?" Josephine probed cautiously.

I turned to her, finding her pretty face worried and a slight blush on her cheeks as she was facing me. "Why do you ask?"

"He's...a templar. You're a mage. He is a man of duty and honor, but of such...focus. How did you get past his walls?"

I was confused at her question. "I...didn't. He got past mine. Not that they were particularly thick, but...I was resistant to trusting him at first."

Surprise flicked across her face. "Truly?"

"Yes. He was…different when we were younger. Still a man of duty and honor, but a bit more carefree. We all changed after Uldred revolted." I met her eyes. "Josephine...why are you asking me this?"

She looked away again. "I...you and the Commander...I have never seen a pair so very in love as you two." She gave a sweet smile. "I must say I...am a bit jealous."

"Jealous? Do you...have feelings for Cullen?"

Shock lit her features in the candlelight. "What? No! Not at all. Oh dear me, have I given you that impression?"

"No, I was just...surprised by the questions is all."

"Oh, of course." Her brow knit. "Forgive me, I am so used to speaking with your sister this openly, I...presumed."

I chuckled. "Josephine, I am not offended. I find you the solitary steady force in the Inquisition...besides Cullen, but that is with me, not really anyone else. I believe 'surly' is the proper word."

Josephine giggled. "He is certainly...gruff, but I find him charming despite it, when he wishes. Once you get past his Fereldan nature and tendency to hammer things into submission. I just...it is heartwarming to observe you two together."

"Are you living vicariously through us, Lady Montilyet?"

She giggled again. "Perhaps a little."

"Why do I get the feeling that there is more to this than what you're revealing?" I probed.

She smiled enigmatically, but said nothing. "Forgive me for disturbing your rest. I will let you return to it." At that, she turned over, leaving me utterly confused, which I determined was her intention.

Morning came, finding us able to go above board on Isabela's ship as we were on the sea. Josephine lit up like a little girl, despite the ruffian nature of the pirates aboard. Despite my worry, she seemed to tear down their rough demeanor as she asked questions about how everything functioned and watched the sailors work.
Isabela commanded her men as well as Cullen did the Inquisition's troops. Gone was her flirtatious demeanor, instead an admiral ordering her men. It was obvious that they held grave respect for her, thus adding to my puzzling over the woman.
We stayed above deck as much as possible, something in my demeanor warning away the sailors despite their lingering stares. Hawke, Fenris and Varric had disappeared below and I prayed silently to the Maker that they would finally get it all out so we could be spared their awkward arguments. Unfortunately, it seemed there was much for them to work through as their anger seemed to only grow instead of subside as one day was spent observing the two duel it out on deck. Isabela encouraged it and came to stand beside me.

"I hope this finally gets them to talk about everything," Isabela sighed. "This tension is giving me a crick in my neck."

"Isabela," I probed. "What happened, if you don't mind me asking? It sounds like it was...complicated."

"Hawke thinks Fenris and I slept together after Fenris left her," Isabela confessed. "We'd been flirtatious before she and Fenris got...serious. She thinks I'm the reason he didn't come back." I raised my brows at her. "And before you ask, no I didn't sleep with him. Even I have some standards. Not many, but some and that includes not sleeping with my friends' lovers."

"There seems to be more to the animosity than that." Hawke was giving Fenris no mercy as she hammered him with blows from her daggers, though the male seemed far stronger than his size indicated.

"The whole reason I was even in Kirkwall had to do with stealing a certain Qunari artifact," Isabela confessed. "I was the reason the Qunari were occupying the city. The artifact resurfaced, but...I took it and ran like a coward, fearing capture and death." Isabela's normally haughty demeanor dropped for a moment, but she said nothing further.

"It seems you all have things to work out," I murmured. "I wish you luck."

Isabela gave a derisive laugh. "We're going to need more than luck, but you're sweet."

The remainder of the days were spent avoiding our allies from Kirkwall as much as possible as things got more heated. I even trapped myself in a room with Vivienne, Josephine and Dorian as we set about designing outfits for the ball at the Winter Palace. Vivienne and Dorian could not agree on anything beyond the fact that the Inquisition's wardrobe had to be both fashionable and a statement. Josephine attested that truth, stating that much would be assumed and decided based solely on what we wore.
As they argued, I began sketching out ideas in the new sketchbook Cullen had commissioned for me. It was smaller and easier to travel with, but still of fine make. Remembering the smug grin on his face when he gave it to me, the mischief in his eyes as he requested the first entry be of him again, made my heart ache. As soon as we were in Val Royeaux, I planned on writing a letter detailing how much I missed him.
Refocusing on my task, I sketched out what I thought the Inquisitor should wear, determining that all the other outfits could be designed based off of it once the Inquisitor's look was determined. Knowing we were going to a ball, but going to prevent an assassination, I figured the Inquisitor should wear something akin to the military uniform Josephine suggested, but combined with a ball gown. On those notions, I sketched out a few things, but settled on one that I felt captured both the military nature of the Inquisition as well as respecting the ball we were attending.
Shoving the sketch between the three, their argument about what was the best silk in Thedas ceasing. Vivienne was the first to pick it up, flicking between the different sketches. Her manicured nails glistened in the candlelight, her beautiful face unreadable.

Dark eyes flicked up to me. "You could have a future in fashion, my dear. I see no fault with this. There wouldn't be an eye in the room turned away from you."

Dorian grabbed it out of Vivienne's hands, his grey eyes perusing it. "I agree. It's both beautiful and intimidating and says 'Inquisitor'."

"It's perfect," Josephine agreed, leaning against Dorian.

"Now, it's just coming up with what everyone else is going to wear," I grumbled.

"Let us worry about that, darling," Vivienne stated, a smirk on her full, glossed mouth. "We've this to work off of, we can take it from here."

"The real question is, what do you want Cullen to wear?" Dorian questioned, a brow raised as his eyes glittered.

I blushed before taking the sketchbook back and flipping to the first page. I turned it to them. "I wasn't sure on the details until I drew the Inquisitor's outfit, but this was the overall idea."

"Oh my," Dorian cooed. "Are you sure you want to dress him like that? Those Orlesians will be on him like bees on honey."

I chuckled darkly. "If they have a death wish."

Dorian barked a laugh. "I'd pay money to see you fend off his suitors."

"You must play nice, my dear," Vivienne warned.

"Play nice. Yes," I nodded. "Beyond that? No."

"We'll worry about that when we get there," Josephine soothed. "These are wonderful, Talitha. Thank you."

...

Nearing the meeting place of the negotiations, nerves tightened in my gut at the thought of having to mediate what was sure to be an argument between Prince Sebastian and the other friends of Hawke. I thanked the Maker that Josephine would be with me as would Varric. Josephine would help with diplomacy, while Varric could add comedic relief if only to ease the tension.
The others were staying at the inn while Vivienne was seeing to our orders for the ball. We'd come up with the outfits for everyone else; everyone satisfied at the simultaneous uniformity and individuality of them. Utilitarian and beautiful, we were truly impressed with ourselves and excited to see the end results.
Josephine, Hawke, Varric and I sat silently in a carriage as we were driven to the meeting place, Fenris having stayed with the others; Isabela and her sailors fulfilling their role by trying to gather information in Val Royeaux's seedier locations. I worried about Fenris staying behind, as he and Dorian had gotten into it the day before when the elf realized Dorian was from Tevinter, even recognizing his last name. Hawke had worried as well, placing herself between the two, but had been surprised when Fenris merely walked away.

"Inquisitor," Josephine spoke, pulling me from my thoughts. "Just remember to be polite, but firm. While the prince's motivations may be honorable in desiring to track down a fugitive, his means of doing so are not. You are here to remind him of that, as the Herald of Andraste, and to offer an alternative solution. Also, it is 'Your Highness', not 'Your Majesty' as his title is prince, not king."

"The alternative solution being what?" I questioned. "He wants Anders. We don't have him, nor do we know where he is."

"Let me worry about that," Hawke chimed in. "If it comes to it."

"'If'?" Varric let out a snort. "He was practically foaming at the mouth when you let Anders go. It was the most emotion I'd ever seen him display."

"You...let him go?" I questioned.

Her piercing blue eyes flicked to me. "Why should I have been his executioner? The man was sick. It doesn't excuse it, but...this way he has a chance to redeem himself...and see what his actions wrought upon the world."

"He's an abomination, Hawke," Varric challenged.

"But he fought Justice, I saw it."

Varric shook his head, but said nothing more.

I looked away, feeling that a little too much. "Do you know where he is?"

"Not exactly, no," Hawke stated. "But I could provide Sebastian what he needs if there is no other way to get him to relent."

"Let us hope we can call him off," I murmured.

We arrived at the apartment of Prince Sebastian, being shown into the foyer before an attendant led us to the room where we were meeting. I was first struck by the tension within. A man and woman sat upon chairs, glaring at each other, but saying nothing. Guards stood behind both, some clearly belonging to the man and the rest to the woman.
Blue eyes turned to us as we entered, and I was struck by the noble features of the young man. I assumed this was Prince Sebastian, his clothing understated, but of fine materials. The woman, dressed in armor, had flaming red hair and a fierceness about her, I assumed was Aveline Valen. Sebastian stood from the chair he occupied, his tense face easing slightly as he came before me.

"Herald of Andraste," he greeted, a slight bow of his head. "Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven. I am honored to have you here."

"A pleasure, Your Highness," I gave a slight bow. "Thank you for agreeing to these negotiations."

Sebastian's eyes caught on Hawke and his lips pressed into a thin line. "I see you've brought additional parties to this gathering."

"You'll forgive me, Your Highness," I apologized. "Serah Hawke insisted on being part of the discussion."

Sebastian said nothing, but turned to Josephine. "Lady Montilyet," he kissed her hand. "A pleasure to have you with us."

"Your Highness," Josephine curtsied. "Thank you for agreeing to this on such short notice."

"It is no trouble. I hope you can offer a solution." He waved us to follow him.

We passed through the sitting room to a large dining room. The table within had been cleared of any decoration, the only thing upon its surface a tray with a pitcher of water and goblets. Light fare had also been set out in anticipation of long negotiations.

"Please be seated," Sebastian offered. He waited for us to take our seats before sitting himself.

I sat at his left hand, Aveline at his right. Hawke sat beside Aveline, patting her on the shoulder as she took her seat and Varric occupied the chair next to Hawke. Josephine sat beside me.

"Let us start at the beginning," Josephine offered. "How we came to our current predicament."

Each party that had been part of the chaos in Kirkwall gave a brief recounting of the events. Sebastian ending with anger at Anders being allowed to walk away while the Circle, Kirkwall and the Order suffered massive losses because of his actions. Aveline ending with defending Kirkwall from tyranny at the hands of the Prince for the actions of an apostate that, to her knowledge, was no longer within the city. Hawke gave her accounting, but offered no explanation as to her choice regarding Anders. Varric gave his version, stating that he was simply tired of the conflict between mages and templars and felt that the further destruction of Kirkwall would accomplish nothing.

"It is not my intention to bring further harm to Kirkwall," Sebastian bit at the dwarf. "I simply wish to see that maleficar pay for his crimes."

"By making innocents pay with him," Aveline shot back. "If I knew where he was, I would hand him over to you and be done with it. I will not let you terrorize the city I swore to protect on the off chance that someone within has information."

"Instead, you would let him go free to possibly plan another attack?" Sebastian rebutted. "How do we know he wasn't the one behind the attack on the Conclave?" He glared at Hawke. "You heard him. 'There can be no peace.' That is what he said."

"I can assure you," I stated. "It was not Anders. I looked the creature responsible in the face as he tried to kill me. It was a darkspawn, one of the original magisters from your Chantry's legends that brought the Blight upon the world."

Sebastian looked at me, shock on his face before his brow furrowed. "'Legends'? You do not believe the Chant?"

"I cannot say for certain," I deflected. Maker, forgive me. I am taking my sister's position.

"You are the Herald of Andraste. Would Andraste choose someone who does not believe in the Maker?" Sebastian mused.

"Perhaps it is for that very reason I was chosen—if indeed I was," I offered.

"True enough," Sebastian gave a curt nod. "I am hardly one to say why anyone is led to the Maker. Or how. I was unworthy and yet, Andraste led the way." He waved a hand through the air. "That is besides the point. Anders still needs to face justice."

"Your Highness," I interjected drawing his attention once more. "I understand your anger, your desire for justice—"

"—You do not understand," Sebastian argued, though his voice remained polite. "Elthnia was a good woman. Devoted to the Maker. A mother to me and many others. She did not deserve her fate."

"And how many undeserving would you cut down in pursuit of justice for her?" I challenged.

"If they protect the apostate, they are not innocent," Sebastian argued.

"Forgive me for saying this, but to be frank, how are you then any different from Anders?" I retorted. Rage creeped into his handsome face as he opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off.
"Though I am not Andrastian, I have studied the Chant and your beliefs. I have come to gather that you believe vengeance is the Maker's to deliver. Self-defense is one thing, but intentionally seeking out the life of another, even when the cause is just? Anders will face his justice when your Maker decides, if that is the truth. Why then, as a devout Andrastian, are you taking the matter into your own hands?"

"He murdered innocents. Murdered Elthnia."

"And what of Meredith? Orsino?" I questioned. "Meredith wanted to massacre the entirety of the Circle for one apostate's crime. Orsino turned to blood magic to fight against the templars who were following orders, rallying the mages to fan out and spread rebellion." I flicked my gaze between his.
"Innocent mages died. Templars doing no more than following orders died. Both pursued their own ends using whatever means they justified. How were they any different than Anders? Both received justice—Meredith at the hands of a sword she crafted for herself and the corrupted material within; Orsino at the hands of Hawke after he went insane and attacked the very people he was trying to protect. Who are you to say you're the sword the Maker would use?"

"Because no one else is," Sebastian clenched his jaw.

I chuckled, lightheartedly. "Then what is the Inquisition?" He faltered for a moment. "We are trying to put the world back together—to fix what Anders' actions brought about—not to make a further mess of it. Aveline is simply trying to defend a people who have already been through enough. Hawke and Varric are here to appeal to past friends after pledging to help the Inquisition." I leaned towards the prince.
"I understand wanting justice when you've been wronged, but this is not the way to do it."

Josephine placed a light hand on my thigh, squeezing in a silent order to hush. I'd said enough. It was time to let the prince mull things over. We sat in silence as he thought. He finally looked up to Aveline. "I apologize, Aveline. I...have allowed my rage to blind me."

Aveline actually cracked a smile. "I think you know me well enough to realize I've been there a time or two."

Sebastian gave a mirthless chuckle. "I will not attack Kirkwall, but I will not relent in my search for Anders either." His gaze flicked to Hawke, but he spoke to me. "Will the Inquisition offer agents to help look for him? I would...sleep better at night knowing he was locked away."

"That is a matter for the Templar Order," I shook my head. "As we have what remains of the Order within us, it is a matter I would discuss with them. Their numbers are few, Prince Sebastian, and they are trying to rebuild both their numbers and their reputation. While the crimes Anders committed are not small, we face far more pressing issues at present."

"Such as?" He was clearly not pleased with my answer, but I sent a prayer up to the Maker that he would listen.

"A splinter faction of templars that seek to tear down both the Order and the Chantry to put this Corypheus up as Thedas' new god. Venatori from Tevinter that are his loyal acolytes, who's ultimate goal and current tasks are still unknown to us. An attempt to find a compromise between the remaining mages and templars to prevent further bloodshed. The threat of chaos in Orlais. And in the wake of war and upset power balances, the inevitable grab for power by those without it."

Worry crossed Sebastian's face. He was silent for a time. "I suppose I have made a rather poor impression of myself, haven't I?"

"You took the words right out of my mouth, Choir Boy," Varric snarked.

"Forgive me, Your Worship," Sebastian inclined his head. "It was not my intention."

"All that matters to me, Your Highness, is that you agree to negotiations before committing any rash actions." I stated.

"Then in compromise for abandoning my 'rash actions'," he gave me a playful smirk, "I would ask the Inquisition to provide troops to aid in the rebuilding of Kirkwall, if you will not offer agents to search for Anders. As the city still suffers from Anders' destruction, it is no doubt in need of aid."

"You could have offered that from the beginning," Aveline chided. "And peaceably searched for Anders as you helped rebuild the city he destroyed."

"I...assumed no one would willingly give him up," Sebastian admitted.

"You think they bear love for him?" Aveline scoffed. "He's as hated by the people of Kirkwall as anywhere else. How many loved ones died because of what he did? How many loved ones still suffer because of what he did? I've heard of no love for him."

"I'm sure you would find it, but perhaps among fellow extremists," I offered.

"Anders was once a good man," Hawke interjected. "He trusted the wrong spirit and that spirit used him."

"But he made that choice," I argued. "He did not have to allow Justice in."

"He believed he was helping a friend," Hawke scowled at me. "How was he to know that it would change him?"

"Because that is a foundational rule that all mages are taught," I argued. "Or learn."

"Perhaps he hoped he'd have more of an influence upon Justice than the reverse?"

"Then he was a fool."

"What do you know of it?" Hawke spit.

"A great deal, actually," I retorted. "My clan was nearly destroyed by mages that shared that ignorance."

"Then I guess you should have been there. You could have done what I was too weak to—you could've shoved a dagger between his ribs and into his heart with a clear conscience." She glared at me and then the others.
"You all want to judge and blame me, but I didn't see any of you step up to murder him. To stop him." Her rage was boiling again.
"Not you, Sebastian, despite your declaration of war. Not you, Aveline, despite your bold statement that his belief didn't justify his actions. Not Orsino or Meredith, even though they were right there when he admitted to what he had done. No, you will not stand in judgement of me sparing him when you were too cowardly to get his blood on your hands yourselves while you were demanding that I do it." They were silent, looking at the ground.
"What difference would it have made anyway? He'd already carried out his plans. His death at my hands would have what? Made him into a martyr? Denied him the ability to see that what he did only made things worse? Gave him a swift end that he did not deserve? What's done is done. Leave it well enough alone. There's bigger things to worry about now."

"That's not what I meant, Hawke," I murmured. "His intentions were noble, but a spirit of the Fade...he should have known better. Wherever he is, I hope he finds remorse and redemption."

Hawke gave a nod. "That is my hope as well."

"As to your request, Prince Sebastian," I turned back to him, his blue eyes meeting mine after breaking away from Hawke. "We would be glad to help you aid Kirkwall."

The rest of the afternoon was spent working out the particulars of what Kirkwall needed. Aveline, Hawke and Varric providing their input while Sebastian gave his approval or disapproval. The Inquisition would fill in the gaps, both in people and building supplies. Josephine assured she had everything written down and would discuss it with Cullen upon her return to Skyhold.

"Would it be too much trouble for me to visit Skyhold?" Sebastian questioned at the end of negotiations. We were standing in the foyer, the mood far more relaxed than it had been. I surprised and relieved that things had gone so well.
"If I am to be an ally to you, I would prefer to see your headquarters and the functions of the organization I've pledge allegiance to." He looked to me, taking my hand and kissing the back of it.
"Though I've found the Inquisitor to be quite...engaging, no doubt a testament to the rest of the organization."

I gave him an enigmatic smile. "Thank you, Your Highness. We look forward to it."

"Send word prior to your visit," Josephine instructed. "I will see to the arrangements personally."

"I thank you, Lady Ambassador," Sebastian bowed before turning to his friends. "Hawke. Aveline. Varric. I...apologize for my haughty actions and beg your forgiveness. I am grateful to the Maker that we could prevent further violence. I still burn with anger at Anders' actions, but...there are greater things to worry about at present."

"I am sorry for what he took from you, Sebastian," Hawke murmured. "But you are not the only one who suffered loss because of his actions."

"I know that, Hawke," Sebastian looked away. "Grief...it has a way of clouding everything."

"You think I don't understand that?" Hawke bit.

Sebastian looked to her, sympathy in his features. "I suppose you do...better than most."

"And yet, I still tried to do right by everyone," Hawke growled. "And what did it get me?" Her friends turned to look at her, shock and embarrassment on their faces.

"Hawke, I—"

Hawke turned her back on him and strode out the door.

...

We returned to the inn, Hawke brooding the entire way back. Aveline was to meet us for dinner the following evening before she'd be on her way back to Kirkwall. Sebastian would stay in Val Royeaux for a week before returning to Starkhaven. Josephine was writing out her letter to Cullen to warn him of what would need to be done for Kirkwall and planned on seeing to other business regarding preparations for the Winter Palace while we were to meet with Vicinius the next day.
Hawke left in the middle of the night, leaving a note that she was making her way to meet Ser Stroud in the Wastes. Fenris and Varric were clearly hurt, but Fenris decided to join us for meeting Vicinius—the thought of potentially fighting Tevinter extremists piquing his interest. I had a bad feeling about the meeting and wanted extra protection, so I agreed. We approached the door of the large apartment that overlooked the great pool of Val Royeaux. There were no guards or attendants waiting outside, which struck me as odd.

"He did know we were coming, yes?" Dorian questioned. "Why is there no one to announce us or show us inside?"

"Something is wrong," I murmured.

"Let us be wary, my dear," Vivienne cautioned.

I tried the door, but found it locked. "Varric, could you?"

Varric got a smug look on his face. "Leave it to me." He picked the lock within seconds of kneeling, opening the door. The foyer appeared ransacked; papers and books strewn about, furniture overturned, but there were no signs of occupants.

"What happened here?" I voiced aloud.

"Where's Vicinius?" Varric wondered.

"It would appear the merchant caught Calpernia's ire," Solas observed.

"Let's make sure we're alone here, then we can look around," I advised. "There's obviously more to this merchant than we discovered."

We paired up and fanned out, making our way through the grand apartment as quietly and cautiously as we could. A battlecry sounded up the stairs as Dorian shouted "Venatori". Barris and I hurtled ourselves to the fight, the templar's sword brimming with white light as he unsheathed it. I'd nearly forgotten Barris was with us, the man was so quiet and pensive all the time. He'd kept to himself during the entirety of our travels, clearly bothered by something, but in my attempts to speak with him, he dismissed himself to his quarters.
Entering the fray, Barris let out a grunt as he slammed his sword into his shield, a great light sweeping out from him. I felt it caress my mana, but he willed it away from me and the others, focusing entirely upon our enemies. It had taken numerous practices for him to finally hone his focus to will who his abilities affected on the field. It was still difficult and messy as it took a massive amount of focus, but he'd done it and each time it seemed to become easier for him. The Venatori panicked as the Fade was closed off to them, leaving the mages vulnerable. Varric and Barris dispatched them quickly while the rest of us focused on the rogues. The fight ended before it had really began.

"I believe I've found Vicinius," Dorian's voice came from a nearby room. "What's left of him anyway. It seems the Venatori tired of following him."

We all entered, finding a gruesome scene of a body that had been blown apart. Blood splattered the wall, the floor, everywhere. The furniture was in disarray in this room as well.

"Were they following him?" I questioned. "He seemed to be merely a pawn. But why? What use was he?"

"This is the merchant?" Varric asked, shock in his voice. "I guess he asked Calpernia for a down payment."

"You've no idea how this Tevinter is connected to your Venatori?" Fenris questioned.

"How do you know he's Tevinter?" I asked.

"The name."

"It is rather Tevene," Dorian agreed.

"The dossier Leliana gave me said he was born in Talo, but claimed Vyrantium as his birthplace," I offered.

"As any Tevinter merchant would wish to," Dorian nodded as he examined the body closely. "Vyrantium is the the Val Royeaux of Tevinter. Though I would argue our fashion far more tasteful."

"Careful, darling," Vivienne warned playfully. "Val Royeaux is known to everybody who is anybody. Vyrantium is known only as a textile."

"Ah, but they are some of the most sought after, are they not? While Orlesians turn our lovely cloth into ridiculous gowns and hats, we fashion them into clothing of true style."

"Can we save this for another time?" I growled. "We've more important things to do. Clearly, Vicinius crossed Calpernia or the Venatori somehow," I observed. "Let's look around. Hopefully there's a clue here somewhere."

We split again, scouring through everything in the apartment. Grabbing any important looking documents and a strange looking crystal shard, etched with runes, I met the others in the foyer as we all finished searching. We laid our finds atop the table we'd righted and compared trying to decipher what exactly connected the merchant to Calpernia.
The others had found crystal shards as well, which we found odd. It turned out that Vicinius dealt in trading slaves. Calpernia had ordered he deliver his finest stock personally. Unharmed, learned, and intelligent. A falling out had begun when Vicinius sent Calpernia slaves that had been mistreated.

"An invoice for a shipment of slaves," Varric handed the invoice and a letter to me. "Vicinius supplied them to the Venatori. Sneaky slaver. That explains a bit."

"A Tevinter slaver, how novel," Vivienne mocked.

"You took the words from me," Fenris growled.

"Well, our dear merchant was not as clean as we believed," I bared my teeth. "It seems Vicinius angered Calpernia by sending her mistreated slaves."

"Really? Most in Tevinter wouldn't bother to care," Dorian stated.

"She was paying a fortune for literate slaves," I read over a ledger. "Why?"

"Curious," Solas murmured, inspecting the documents. "When she already has an army of Venatori."

"Something's up," Varric agreed. "That sounds like recruiting to me."

"Unless these slaves were intended for a separate purpose?" Solas questioned.

"Or perhaps dear Calpernia has something she wishes to hide?" Vivienne offered.

I turned my attention to the crystal shards. Arranging them until the jagged edges seem to match, the runes fitting together, I pushed the pieces into a whole. When it was together, the runes lit with magic and a voice began to echo about the room.

"You dare cheat me, Vicinius?" A woman's voice demanded.

"Lady Calpernia, I had no intention—" A man's voice quavered in response.

"I warned you of consequences, should the slaves you bring me suffer in your care. Venatori. Show him my displeasure."

"No. Wait. Wait!" The sounds of screams and magic filled the air before the magic of the crystal ceased.

"That's a dwarven memory crystal," Varric looked at it more closely. "The shaperate use them to store memories. Don't ask me how it works, though."

Dorian picked up the shards of the crystal, examining it. "There's one or two in Minrathous—very rare."

"Words from the past?" Vivienne perked up. "Fascinating."

I looked to Dorian and Varric. "Dwarven? Perhaps Dagna would know what to make of it. We should send these with Josephine back to Skyhold." I picked up a piece. "Do you think this is what the Venatori were looking for?"

"It's possible," Solas nodded. "Though it does not seem to hold any more secrets."

"It's broken," Varric argued. "If Dagna can repair it, perhaps she could pull more memories from it."

"True."

"We won't know until Dagna has them," I stated. "Let us pray she is able to discover more of our adversary."

We returned to the inn, informing Josephine of what happened and she agreed to deliver the crystal pieces to Dagna upon her return to Skyhold. We ate dinner with Aveline, who was disappointed that Hawke had left without saying goodbye. She was a fierce woman, but kindhearted. She reminded me of Cullen in some ways as she was socially awkward, uncompromising in her morals and opinions and had a very dry sense of humor.
She and Varric regaled us of their adventures with Hawke, while Fenris brooded in the corner. The evening was filled with good food and laughter, despite Fenris' dark mood clouding over everyone. The morning saw Josephine off on another of the ships within Isabela's fleet, while we boarded the Siren's Call II. I sent copies of my reports and another letter to Cullen with Josephine, detailing all that had occurred during our time here. I was ready to face whatever lay in the Dales, ready to discover the secrets of the temple in the Wastes, but I wished more than anything that Cullen were at my side as I felt an uneasiness growing each day we were apart.

…

CULLEN

With a shout, I awoke from the horror I'd dreamt. I was on the floor, blankets and sheets tangled through my legs, my hand gripping my pillow so tightly, I thought I'd ripped it. I panted for breath, cold sweat dampening my skin. The last image blazed through my mind before the world shifted on its axis and I crawled to my slops bucket to vomit into it. I'd fallen asleep thinking of Meira, longing for her, even being blessed with a normal dream of her—of us—just being together before it was twisted into something vile. I retched some more before my arms gave out. I laid on my side, body shaking, drained of strength, that hunger for the lyrium howling like some rabid beast. Andraste, preserve me. Give me the strength, for I have none.
I shook harder. Maker, what am I doing? A spy in our midst, my family and Meira attacked...how much more have I missed? How much more will I miss the longer withdrawal goes on?
I heard the screams of my friends as they were tortured and killed. My mind pulsing as the torture played out. Heard my sobs, felt the cage choking me. The demon's honeyed promises, her cackle when I humiliated myself. Felt the blood on my hands as the Order tore through the streets of Kirkwall and the Gallows. Tasted that anger. Felt the fear as abominations slaughtered innocents around us. Saw Meira in that cell over and over. The glowing eyes of the Red Templars. Of Meredith.
I curled into a ball, covering my ears, my body groaning in pain. Andraste, My Lady, please. Moonlight fell upon my skin as clouds rolled away and I turned my gaze to the starlit sky. The pain subsided slowly, the shaking easing and my strength returning, though I still felt weak.
Slowly, I rose, groaning at the cramping in my legs, having to hold on to the small bookcase as I pulled myself up. I panted some more as the room spun, gripping the bookcase to stay on my feet. The spinning slowed soon enough.
I dragged myself to the basin of water and splashed some on my face. I picked up the jar of dental paste, wrapped rough linen around my finger before dipping it into the contents and rubbing it into my teeth and gums. The cloves within helped ease my jaw pain from the withdrawal, while the paste itself cleaned my mouth of the sour taste. Swishing some spiced wine-vinegar, I spit it into the slops bucket when finished. Combing my hair, applying my salves and stretching, I felt somewhat recovered before pulling on new smalls and breeches. Fixing my bedding and dropping the soiled fabrics to the floor below, I took my slops bucket and descended the ladder.
It was early enough no one but the soldiers on duty would be awake. Exiting my office, I hurled the contents of the bucket over the crenellations before setting it next to the door for the cleaners along with the sweat-soaked bedding. Striding inside, I donned my armor and sword before heading down to the small training grounds where Cassandra was usually grumbling.
Facing my chosen practice dummy, I went about my morning training, missing Meira, but glad she was gone at the same time as she would no doubt sense my worsening symptoms. I was losing weight again, my hair and beard growing out. I'd thrown myself wholly into my duties for the Inquisition, unable and unwilling to focus on anything else as it helped me escape the cage of withdrawal until night fell. Determined not to miss anything else, lest I put our people in danger, I'd returned my focus to my duties with a vengeance.
Thinking of my pitiful state upon the floor of my quarters, I bared my teeth and attacked the dummy with my full rage. I sliced it's head clean off before dismembering the rest of it and spilling its straw guts. I stood above the remains, heaving in breaths and feeling even angrier. I sheathed my sword with a slam and pounded my way up the nearby stairs, following the battlements, cutting through what would be Meira and the mages' tower once it was completed, before descending the stairs that emptied out to the gardens.
The little chapel had been cleaned on my order, Mother Giselle having chosen a statue of Andraste to put within. I made my way there, seeking comfort. Candles burned inside—symbols of those also lifting up prayers—a chandelier hanging above, two short pews to either side of Andraste's image, a rug upon the floor, a copy of the Chant sat on a stand in the corner along with a little table adorned with goblets and a pitcher.
I looked up at Andraste's statue, wondering and doubting if she was even listening to me as she sat at the Maker's side; wondering if she would even continue to intercede on my behalf after how miserably I had failed to serve. Despite my doubt, I knelt, clasping my hands and bowing my head before speaking sections of the Chant in a low voice.
The Chant turned to prayers and I found a blessed moment of peace as I poured out all that laid upon my heart. Prayers for the Inquisition, for my soldiers, for all of us leaders, for my family, for Meira, for my struggle. My knees, back and neck ached, but I found I did not care as I continued to pray until rays of dawn shone through the stained-glass windows behind Andraste. Finished, but not wanting to leave the peaceful place and the bit of serenity I had found, I sat in one of the pews.

"Normally, I am the only one in here at this early hour, but I welcome the company," Giselle's kind voice spoke, a gentle hand on my shoulder to both comfort and steady herself as she sat.

I gave a wry twist of my mouth. "If the Chantry permitted it, perhaps I should have become a priest instead?"

"You certainly keep the hours of one, child," she chuckled. "However, I do not think you'd be happy under the vows of celibacy, now would you?"

Heat prickled in my face, flicking my eyes up to Andraste as I shifted uncomfortably, thinking of Meira. "I...um...no."

Giselle chuckled again. "Andraste understands physical love, Commander. She was, after all, married and bore children."

"I always wondered at that," I admitted, scratching my neck. "How was she called the 'Bride of the Maker' when she was married to a mortal man?"

Giselle's kind eyes danced with mischief. "Why is that always the question of young men?" My face burned. "Andraste was no virgin, despite what some would have us believe and the vows of celibacy we priestesses take. She was a woman and a mother long before the Maker called to her. Her marriage to the Maker was of a spiritual nature meant to show her devotion to him. That is why we take vows of celibacy in honor of their spiritual marriage; to show that our devotion is to the Maker." I was silent, expecting Giselle to go about her usual tasks. "Tell me, do you intend to marry the Lieutenant-Commander?"

I cleared my throat. "Yes."

"Good," Giselle nodded. I arched a brow at her. She smiled enigmatically. "She is...a very sweet girl. One that only solidifies my belief that the Chantry has mistreated our elven converts. I pray for the Maker to bless her and...I know what you mean to her." Her dark eyes met mine. "She...could use some happiness and an assurance of what she means to you."

"I am to earn the right to marry her by proving myself to her father," I murmured as I looked at the statue of Andraste. "A Dalish tradition—tests of worth. The tests have been postponed while they carry their Keeper to the Dales for burial."

"What are these tests to be?" Giselle probed.

"An archery contest as a symbol of my ability to hunt and provide, followed by a melee tournament as a symbol of my ability to protect her," I explained. "While her father will be judging me, the contests are also to help train the soldiers and boost morale. It will be followed up by an evening of merrymaking, all to take place in the village below as it will be completed well before then." I rubbed the back of my neck. "I am to win if I wish to secure his approval, but the winner of both contests earns the right to a boon of their choosing from the Inquisition."

"Your boon of choice being?"

I cleared my throat again, Giselle making me nervous. "I...have not decided yet."

"I see. Well, I look forward to observing them and I will pray for your success." She stood, but paused to look at me. Pulling Meira's sketchbook from her robes, she extended it to me. "Your lady left this in the garden the other morning, the morning before she was attacked. With all that occurred, I believe she did not have time to collect it. I can trust you to see its safe return?"

I gave a nod, taking it from her as I stood. "I should see to my duties."

Giselle studied me. "How are you?"

I looked away, knowing she was asking about the withdrawal. "I shall endure."

"That does not answer the question."

I scowled. "I have good days and I have bad days."

"I shall pray that the former is more than the latter."

"Thank you," I murmured. "If you would excuse me."

"Commander," she called and I turned. "It is not weakness to talk about what troubles you."

I softened my face, giving a nod before turning my back to her and heading for the War Room.

…

Once behind the doors, I made my way to my usual spot. A stack of reports waited for me as did breakfast and coffee. Sela had stuck a note underneath:

Your lady will kill me if she thinks I haven't been doing everything within my power to care for you in her absence.
Knew you'd be in here eventually. Not my fault if it's cold.
Eat, Commander.

Also, latest reports for you.

-S

I chuckled before my heart twanged with longing, missing Meira terribly. I glanced at her sketchbook. She refused to let me look at it whenever she was drawing while with me, claiming a lack of skill or that things were unfinished. I'd had a new one made for her, smaller and easier to travel with, but this seemed to be her favorite to use.
She'd been perched on the couch in my office, Ghilani off hunting as it was night, while I worked through reports. Her legs had been drawn up as she rested the book upon them. Her tongue between her teeth in concentration, her brow furrowed in focus as she drew. A strand of hair kept falling out of the pile of atop her head and into her face that she had to puff away. She'd been in a simple lambswool dress, the skirt slit at the side to allow the burn on her right thigh to breathe. She'd tucked one of the pillows under her legs for support, but the fabric of her dress had fallen away. Her lovely feet, delicate ankles and gently curved calves being caressed by the flickering light from the fire in the hearth the way I longed to caress them. Her eyes had flicked up to me then and I'd scrambled to occupy my gaze elsewhere, trying to fight the heat rising in my face.
When I'd eventually looked back up, she'd pulled her dress over her legs, but there was a blush on her cheeks and a small smile on her mouth. Her eyes met mine, her blush deepening before she hid behind her sketchbook. I'd chuckled and asked what she was working on, reminding her that she'd yet to fulfill her end of the bargain. She'd only hid further into the couch, but I could see the tips of her arched ears turning red.
Curious, I'd snuck over to her without making a sound before plucking the book from her hands. She'd cried out in surprise, trying to grab it back. I held it up, taunting her by swearing I would peek. Her face had been bright red, lips pursed in anger, eyes wide in embarrassment as she tried to grab it, but her height put her at a disadvantage. I'd turned to look at what she was drawing only for her to grab the front of my shirt and pull my mouth to hers.
Surprised, I dropped my guard and she stole the sketchbook back, emitting a laugh of triumph. I stood, stunned; rarely did she initiate affection. Her jade eyes looked at me through her dark lashes, a playful smile on her lips and I wanted nothing more than to kiss her breathless. She'd waved me off, telling me she'd show it to me when she was ready. It took everything I had to return to my desk. Then the way she'd said goodbye to me…heat pooled in my gut every time I thought of her yelling my name, jumping into my arms and kissing me with unbridled passion. Feeling almost guilty, I opened the book to where she had a marker and felt heat pool into my face.

Knew you'd peek. Hope it meets your expectations.

Yours always.

It was her self-portrait. Maker. Whatever her claims about lack of skill, she'd captured herself perfectly. It was as if I were looking at her or she were looking at me. Though she'd clearly been self-concious when she'd drawn it, as she did not add the mischief or joy that usually danced in her eyes, the tantalizing curve of her lips when she was teasing me, but it was her. As she saw herself and that made it more precious to me. It showed me her innermost self—perhaps without her even realizing— and made me miss her even more.

"She's quite skilled, isn't she?" Leliana's voice spoke from over my shoulder.

I jumped out of my skin. "Sweet Maker!"

"Oh, did I startle you?" She smirked. "You did seem quite preoccupied. And who could blame you? The way you've been stomping around and grumbling. It hasn't even been a full week and you're already making everyone pay for your melancholy."

"I am not," I protested.

"You are joking, yes?" Leliana prodded. "When will you be giving us all a break from your growling?"

"I do not growl."

"I have never met anyone who growls as much as you do," she countered. "Except maybe Evelyn's mabari." She was teasing me, her playful side emerging just a little.

I scowled at her. "May we please turn our focus to something other than my manners?"

"As you say, Commander," she smiled.

"I will be gone for nearly two months, hopefully no longer." I traced my finger along the Imperial Highway curving under Lake Calenhad. "I will be taking this route as I need to check in on Corporal Vale and the Crossroads. I have selected Belinda Darrow to assist Asaala in overseeing training while I am away as her last assignment is finished. Though I am still uncertain that this is the best decision. With Rylen gone..."

"Cullen," Leliana spoke softly and I looked up at her. "They are your family. You could've—would've—lost them if not for Isabela and Fenris. They are no doubt frightened and could use the assurance of their brother. I will see to things while you are away."

"How did we miss this?" I murmured.

"The spy...I knew things were occurring within Skyhold, but not the ultimate target," Leliana admitted. "They are smart and far more knowledgeable in subterfuge than I would have thought possible. There was not even a hint that your family was being targeted as well." She met my gaze. "I am sorry, Cullen. If they had been harmed...the blame would have been wholly at my feet."

"We must uncover this spy and find Samson," I clenched my teeth. "I do not know what drove him to this, but the man I knew...he would never have lowered himself to this kind of tactic."

"It is the tactic of a dishonorable and desperate man," Leliana concurred. "How goes the hunt?"

"We're no closer," I curled my lip. "I pray that they discover something in the Graves. Have your agents found anything on the Storm Coast?"

"I've no word back, but I doubt they've even arrived yet. I will let you know as soon as I have news."

"How fares your hunt?"

"The same for me as well, the trail ends with Vicinius," she pursed her lips. "I cannot help but fear that I am missing something."

"If only we could be everywhere at once," I sighed.

"If only," she chuckled.

"You come close, Spymaster," I smirked.

"Because I must," she stated seriously, the mask of Spymaster falling back into place. "I cannot afford any more mistakes. Forgive me for not seeing our enemy's plan in time to prevent Talitha being harmed."

I gave a nod. "Let us both do our utmost to thwart our adversaries."

We spent the next hour finalizing plans for while I was away before going about our days. Exiting, I made my way back to the tower, finding Asaala, Laren and Amelia waiting within. Laren had stayed behind from accompanying the clan to the Dales on Ser's order. A lesson in duty coming before all.
The time for their final vows was approaching. Not that they were swearing vows to the Chantry or even the Order, but I did not know what else to call the ceremony where they would receive their first infusion of lyrium. I tried to hide my scowl; I did not wish to discuss becoming a templar or the Order with them any further. They wanted to know why I was opposed, but I was not ready to discuss my going off lyrium with anyone beyond those who already knew. Yet, as I looked at their faces, I had a nagging feeling that I would have to tell them. For as much as I wish I didn't have to tell them, I wish someone would have told me the truth before I'd taken my vows.

"Commander," Asaala greeted, her purple eyes fierce as they met mine.

Her white hair was loose, flowing around her great horns. She'd taken to wearing armor more akin to what Bull wore, a leather plate over her chest, loose pants on her legs, but that was all. They'd begun training together, she wanting to learn how to be the biggest target on the field as well as the toughest—even more than she already was. She was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over her chest. Despite her usually intimidating demeanor, I'd come to find that Asaala was a gentle soul with a sense of humor, much like Bull, but a bit harder around the edges.
Laren, her dark eyes and fierce features the things that distinguished her from Ellana and Meira, stood before the fireplace, looking into the flames. She was always quiet, but I sensed a barely contained rage in her, wondering if she was not more affected by all the events that had occurred within her family and clan than she let on.
Amelia was the only one that gave me a wide grin, her blue eyes kind; she'd changed much from when she'd first been recruited. No longer given to racial slurs or complaining, she helped all and was kind to everyone. She reminded me of Belinda, a templar that had been with us since the beginning. Belinda was kind and gentle, but a warrior when she needed to be. Amelia was an archer, and when it was time for her to fight, her arrows found their mark without wavering. The three had become inseparable since beginning their templar training. I was glad of it; they would need each other's support to get through what lay ahead of them.

"What can I do for you?" I questioned.

"Our initiation is to happen soon," Amelia stated. "We know we're not...officially part of the Order, but...we're part of the Inquisition's Order. With the others gone..." She shifted uncomfortably.

"We'd like you to be there," Asaala stated.

I frowned. "Why?"

It was Laren's turn to speak. Since she so rarely did, it caused everyone to fall silent and listen. "We know you left, Cullen, but...you are the kind of templar we aspire to be like. One who understands the dangers of magic, but also understands that mages are people."

"I didn't always," I admitted.

She turned to look at me, dark hair shifting, brow knit. "Is that why you left?"

"I left because I had to," I muttered.

"There's more to it than that," she probed. "We've yet to commit fully. If there's something you'd have us know, tell us now." I clenched my jaw.

"Did you no longer wish to be bound to your vows?" Asaala quirked a brow. No.

"Have you lost faith?" Amelia searched my face. No.

I crossed my arms over my chest looking at all of them. "Why are you asking me this?"

"You're the first templar I've ever met that left the Order. Willingly," Amelia stated, fiddling with her gloves. "Those that know something of you, understand your...career has not been an easy one, but...we all see the man you are. The Order suits you. Yet, you've made it a point that you left; that you are no longer a templar. I'd assumed it's because of the state of the world, but Rylen doesn't make a point of being an ex-templar. Neither does Henry Trevelyan. Barris is still very much committed to the Order, as are many of the templars in the battalion. We just want to understand."

Laren moved from the fireplace, coming to stand before me. She made me miss Meira even more as her face was not quite hers, neither was her manner, but both echoed her sister just enough. "We know what we want to do, but you seem to know something we do not."

"It's...not like that," I murmured. "I know the good templars do—and what you could accomplish. I have not lost my faith, nor have I walked away from my vows." I pinched the bridge of my nose, a headache coming. I let out a deep breath. "What has Ser told you about lyrium? It's affects? The...ritual?"

"He said it's painful and he encourages us all to find something to help...'drown out the call'," Amelia explained. She cocked her head. "What does he mean by 'the call'?"

Maker, why? That hunger bit at me. "Lyrium, the first infusion...it changes you. Not your morals or character, but...physically, you are different."

"How so?" Laren probed.

"Lyrium is what grants us our abilities, but it is not without cost. A daily cost," I warned.

Asaala pushed off the wall and came to stand next to Laren, a hand on her hip. "Just spit it out, Cullen," she barked. "I take it you left because of lyrium. You do not want us to join because of lyrium. What will it do to us?"

"It was not solely because of lyrium," I rebutted. "You will hunger for it. A relentless hunger."

"So...it's addictive?" Asaala questioned. "How is that a secret? The Red Templars make that obvious enough. Even if it's...corrupted or whatever, it's still lyrium. I...thought it kind of obvious."

I huffed out a breath. "It's not just addictive, it...it compels you. Binds you."

"To what?" Laren questioned. "We are not joining the Order. I do not serve your Chantry. We are doing this to protect people."

"Gaining templar powers will not make you—or your reasons for gaining them—righteous or right. No matter who or what you're serving. Believe me," I bit before taking a calming breath. "They are not inherently good. They are a tool—no different than your weapons."

"My weapons cannot stop an evil mage from casting magic," Laren bared her teeth. "My weapons cannot deny a blood mage their ability to harm those I love."

"No, but they cannot control you either," I countered. "You control them."

"How does lyrium control the templars?" Amelia probed.

"I thought you said the Red Templars made it obvious? That the addiction was obvious?" I rolled my shoulders, the muscles tightening.

"Then you stop taking it." Asaala stated. "Besides, no one would be holding our leash."

"Are you really that naive?" I scoffed. "It is not simple to stop. And the Inquisition will hold your leash. A gentle master perhaps, but you will still be bound."

"Is that a bad thing?" Amelia's blue eyes searched mine. "You're the Inquisition's commander. We all know how committed you are to the cause."

"I am committed by my choosing. By my own will. There is no hold over me here."

"Cullen," Laren spoke softly. "Are you no longer taking lyrium?" Oh, Maker. I said nothing. "Did you stop?" I remained silent. "You did, didn't you?"

I put my back to them. "Yes."

"Why?"

"My reasons are my own," I growled as I turned back. "But you should know two things: Lyrium takes more than it gives and if you try to stop taking it, you could die."

"What do you mean?" Amelia asked quietly.

"Take lyrium long enough and you start to forget. Small things at first—a misplaced item, words to a song—but more fades away over time." Their faces fell. "You stop taking it and..." I looked away. "The sacrifices you are asked to make in order to protect and serve are great."

"Do you regret becoming a templar?" Laren probed.

I blinked and looked at her. Do I? "No. Not truly. I regret...many things, but not that. I would say I regret not being the templar I aspired to be. I regret that the Order was not what I believed it should be."

"Do you trust us to make the right decision?" Asaala studied my face. "Even if deciding to take lyrium is what we choose?"

"I cannot tell you what is right. I am the last person to ask," I stated. "I can only tell you what I know. You must choose for yourself."

"If we go through with it, would you come in support of us?" Amelia begged, wide-eyed.

"Only because you ask," I gave a nod. I turned away from them, something gnawing at my gut as I looked out the small slit in the wall.

"What if...what if we go through the ritual, but do not take any more lyrium after?" Laren's voice mused quietly.

I gave a humorless chuckle as I turned, finding she'd stayed behind. "I doubt you would be able to use your abilities for long, but that's besides the point. You would have to possess a strength beyond imagining to accomplish that."

She gave a wry twist of her lips. "You know my sister. Perhaps that same strength is in my blood."

"Perhaps," I offered.

"There is no other way to gain these abilities, is there?" It was more a statement than a question, but one that gave way to a hint of doubt.

"There is no other way," I stated. "At least, none that we know of."

"Is lyrium usage the only reason you're trying to talk us out of it?" She probed.

"Yes." I sighed. "There is great honor in the duties of a templar—when carried out as they should be. To protect the innocent from evil wether it be demons, abominations or blood mages...I just wish it did not have so high a cost."

"Doesn't anything worth having or worth doing have a cost?" She murmured. "If no one was ever willing to pay it, the world would have fallen to darkspawn, demons or blood mages long ago." She looked at me then. "Is this why she's been so worried about you? Why you seem ill?"

Heat climbed into my face. "Yes."

"Have you talked to Rylen about it? Henry? Barris?"

"It was not my intention for anyone to know," I grumbled as I crossed my arms.

She cocked her head. "Why? Will it not become obvious when you never use your abilities?"

"I've used the excuse that I do not believe it right to wield them, having left that life. Which I do believe to be the right thing." I looked away from her. "Besides, they do not need to know."

"That isn't fair, Cullen," she challenged. "What if there are others who wish to stop, but are too scared to? And are they not your friends? What if, at the very least, they would want to support you?"

"It is...not something I am ready to talk about," I admitted. "I only told you because you guessed. I am no liar. Now, you know what you need to. I...would not have you walking into this blind."

"I appreciate that," she murmured. "But know that as much as I want to do this for...Talitha, I know that it is you she envisions as the ideal templar; you, Barris, Rylen and Henry. Whatever your past mistakes, the man you are now—the man you were at the tower—that is who she fell in love with and who she continues to fall in love with."

I cleared my throat. "Are you doing this for you as well?"

She looked away. "I am doing this for myself and my entire family. We are too bound to the past. I look to the future."

…

I thanked the Maker for the smooth gait of my stallion as we made our way towards South Reach. We'd stopped in the Hinterlands at the villa in the forest. Vale and the soldiers there now functioned as a well-oiled machine; seeing to everything in the surrounding area. We checked in on the farms, Dennet's family, the Crossroads and Redcliffe. Everything was coming along well. Construction finishing, homes and families being re-established. There were rumors of bandits still active, but no sign of them. Vale and I planned out guard rotations and patrols to keep the people safe and to see if we could catch the bandits in action.
Satisfied, we marched on to South Reach. When we came upon my family's land, my heart leapt into my throat. It was a beautiful property. Fields dotted around full of crops or livestock, a small pond off in the distance. It was relatively flat land, but there were groups of trees here and there. A few houses sat around, all in close proximity to each other, while the large main house sat in easy reach of them all. A great barn and stable were near the main house, and as we neared, the smells and sounds took me back to my childhood home. The smell of fresh tilled dirt, the sounds of horses braying and dogs barking, the sight of crops swaying in the wind. I ordered the soldiers to begin setting a perimeter and patrols as a distraction while I spoke with my family.

"Ser," Recruit Jim spoke and I turned to him. His blue eyes were full of unreadable emotions.

"Yes, Recruit?"

"Good luck, ser," he inclined his head. "Maker turn his gaze on you."

At that, he turned and went to join the others. They all were studying me, concern flickering on their faces. Had I really made it so obvious how nervous I was? I clenched my jaw and barked at them to get a move on. Smirks twisted a few of their faces as they saluted and picked up their pace.
Urging my horse forward, I made my way to the main house, praying that was where they were. Dismounting, I took a moment to let the dizziness pass. Tying his reins to a ring, the stallion flicked his tail and I patted his neck before squaring my shoulders. The house was well built as I approached, clearly made with skill and care. I heard someone humming within, but could see no one through the windows. My stomach was flipping and tying itself in knots as I came to stand at the door.
Will they even be happy to see me? Will they even want me here? What do I even say to them? What could possibly make up for how I've hurt them all these years? Your loving sister. Cullen. Brother—come home. They know only that you left and lost touch with them after there was trouble at the Circle. Apologize for the man you regret becoming, not for what led you to become him.
Letting out a breath and doing my best to push the shame away, I raised my hand to knock on the wooden door. My heart thundering beneath my armor, nerves tightening my gut, excitement and terror gripping my spine, I listened as I heard footsteps creaking along the floorboards. The lock slid out of place and the door swung inwards to reveal:

"Mia," I spoke, a lump in my throat as I beheld the woman before me.

She had a piece of bread between her teeth, no doubt expecting Bran or Rosalie, or some other usual visitor when she'd come to answer the door. As her brown eyes registered who she was seeing, they widened before the bread fell from her mouth as her jaw dropped. Standing frozen, her face pale as if she were seeing a ghost.
Isabela had not been lying, she did look a lot like me. Favoring father over mother as I did, the same strong nose, mouth and eyes. Her golden hair was long as she did her best to contain the wild curls in a braid falling over her shoulder. She wore a blue woolen dress, a leather belt at her waist with a dagger at her hip. She was handsome, not the usual beauty of a woman, but she was made more beautiful because of it. She blinked, her shock abating as fierce anger took its place and I was glad to be in armor.

"Don't you Mia me," she growled and I had to bite back a laugh at the tone she used: it was the same tone I used with my soldiers. "Years, Cullen, years! No letters, no word on where you were, if you were even alive! I wouldn't have known if not for my stubborn need to look in on you! You didn't even send word when I wrote to tell you of mother and father passing. Branson had to keep me from hunting you down! Then Kirkwall...we were beside ourselves! Rosalie locked herself in her room for a week mourning your death when no word came that you had survived! Then, out of the blue, we receive a letter about your leaving the Order to join the Inquisition. Then Haven and we thought you dead. Again!" She charged me, eyes fierce, anger boiling as she attempted to give me a proper dressing-down with her hands on her hips. "Do you even know how much pain you've put us through? And now here you are, on my doorstep no less, with this idiotic grin on your face—"

I pulled her into a hug, warmth in my chest at how unchanged she was and how obviously she cared as I had seen the tears she was fighting in her eyes. "—Forgive me, Mia," I murmured. "For all of it. Thank you for not giving up on me. I regret nothing more than the man I've been these last few years and I thank the Maker for your stubbornness."

After a moment, she buried her face in my shoulder, her height nearing my own, and began sobbing. The sound was pitifully ugly, but it rubbed into the wounds of my soul like a salve. It was not anger or sorrow, but elation and relief. Her arms were like a vice around my neck and I felt her knees buckling as I held her to me. "Oh, Maker, Cullen. Of course I forgive you, you stubborn idiot." Mabari began barking behind us and I heard feet pounding on the ground.

"Cullen?" A deep voice called and I barely had time to turn before we were being tackled by a pair of large arms. "What—How—Maker, Cul!" The arms released us and I pulled away from Mia to take in my brother. He was taller than me by only a few inches, but lankier. Broad shoulders and strong legs to be sure, but longer and leaner than myself. His brown eyes were rounder like mother's, his face favoring hers, but it was like looking into a mirror. Golden curls graced his head and he somehow managed to make them flattering where I never could. He flashed a lopsided grin full of cockiness. "Brother."

"Bran," I flashed a smirk. "Have you become a father yet?"

Bran smiled wider. "Guess your nephew knew something we didn't. Made his entrance into the world last night, just in time for your visit."

"Congratulations," I clasped his shoulder. "Bran, I know I have no right to say this, but I am...so proud of the man you've become." His bravado dropped as he crushed me in another hug.

Pulling away from them both, I studied them. A strange sensation was filling my chest. Pride, sorrow, regret, shame, love, longing all tangled together in a knot making it hard to breathe. Mia had tears slipping down her face as she'd quieted, Bran was positively beaming.
We were silent, but it was comfortable as we simply drank each other in, letting everything that hadn't been said fill the space as we held each other. Though I was still worried it was too soon to reunite with them as I was struggling even more with withdrawal, a part of me knew I needed this—needed them as motivation to keep going. Mia and Bran's faces dropped as their eyes caught on something behind me.

"Cullen?" A gentle, honey voice spoke.

Something fell to the ground with a light thud and I turned. I had to let out a breath at what met my eyes. Maker. She was like a newborn fawn: innocent, graceful, and slight. Doe eyes of pure amber ringed in long, dark lashes that were slightly upturned. Her dark brows were furrowed, golden hair like spun sunshine tinged with red as it billowed about her shoulders. A mouse-grey, woolen dress flowing about her, I couldn't help taking pride in her stunning beauty and the pang of grief that sprung at how much she looked like mother.
Her dainty hands came up to her mouth as tears filled her eyes. She'd dropped a basket full of quilts, the contents spilt at her feet. Even crying, she was the embodiment of her name—a flower like no other. Not unlike Meira, similar in build and beauty. And like Meira, who was a gentle soul encased in armor oblivious to how she spread light wherever she went, I sensed that same tenderheartedness in Rosalie. Not without sorrow or anger...both of which I no doubt had something to do with as I saw the pain in her face, but she possessed a compassion that seemed to spill out of her and touch everything.

"Rosalie," I breathed. She stood, frozen in place, tears pouring down her face, her hands over her full mouth which was quivering. I was unsure what to do, knowing that she seemed the most hurt and upset with how I had treated them according to Bran, so I stayed where I was, pain twisting my gut as she bled out before me. "Rose," I uttered.

"Don't! Don't call me that," she cried. "You don't get to call me that."

"Forgive me," I murmured, my shoulders dropping.

"No!" She thrust her chin up. Shoulders stiff despite her trembling lips. "You think a letter is enough to make up for how you've hurt us? Hurt me?" Anger crossed her beautiful face.
"Mia never gave up and Bran has always idolized you, but I...you abandoned us to chase after duty and honor. What about your duty to us? What about the honor of caring for your family? We needed you. Father and mother were gone and I...I believed, I prayed you would return to us. Return when we needed you most. Instead, you left and we had no word from you for two years. I thought you dead...then, again after Kirkwall and again after Haven. Then, we heard you survived and...despite my best efforts, I hoped. But instead of you, we got soldiers of the Inquisition. You're so important now you cannot be bothered to visit us and send strangers in your place."

"I have no excuse," I confessed. "Beyond the fact that I...was not the brother you knew. If I had returned...I would not have been any help or comfort to you. I regret the man I became after...what happened at the Circle, regret that it kept me from you. That I allowed it to keep me from you. But I am here now."

"That doesn't change anything."

"I know, but I cannot change the past. I can only beg your forgiveness and try to be a better man going forward."

"Well, you can do that away from us," Rosalie demanded. "We do not need you anymore."

"Rose," Branson barked.

Rosalie flicked her eyes at him. "We don't!"

"What is all the ruckus out here?" A lovely woman spoke as she came to the doorway, a tiny babe in her arms, covered by a shawl as she fed him. Dark hair and hazel eyes took in the group, exhaustion plain on her face. Bran turned to her, arms encircling what I assumed were his wife and child, protectiveness in his stance. "Honestly, can you Rutherfords not be quiet for more than five minutes?"

"Darling, youare a Rutherford," Bran's mouth was twisted in a smirk.

The woman huffed out a breath, "In name only. Unlike you barbarians, I am a lady." Bran's smirk deepened before the woman let out a yelp, Bran having pinched her bottom from how she leapt forward. "Branson! I swear to the Maker!" Her hazel eyes fell to me, causing her to pause. "And you must be the long-lost brother finally returned home. I had money on you bringing a woman with you, saying she's your wife when you eventually returned. So did Mia. Guess we both owe Bran. I am Lillian, your sister-in-law."

"A pleasure, ma'am," I inclined my head.

Lillian looked to Rosalie. "Rose, I know you're mad, but the man is here. He looks miserable, not to mention ill. Bury the hatchet and thank the Maker that he's alive and he's finally come home."

"But, Lillian," Rosalie breathed.

"But nothing," Lillian shook her head. "If I had to guess, your brother has been through hell and only now feels he can return to you all. Give him a chance." When Rosalie gave no answer, Lillian sighed. "If you didn't talk about how much you missed him and longed to see him with every other breath, I would believe your stubborn anger. It's your Rutherford curse of obstinance. You're just scared to be too quick to forgive him for fear he's going to hurt you again." Lillian glared daggers at me. "Are you going to hurt them again?"

I smirked. "No, ma'am."

"Good," she nodded. "Now get in here and meet your nephew."

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