Lothering was a desiccated corpse by now. The darkspawn and demons had the run of the place. Not a single living soul had survived the horrors that took place there. Even for a god of death, Falon'Din found this place to be particularly dismal. The bottom of his long robes brushed carelessly over the bodies of fallen Templars and unfortunate civilians alike. He only paid heed to the few elven bodies that he found, making sure to kneel and commend their souls to have safe and proper passage to the Beyond. It didn't matter from which time period or specific dimension these elves hailed from. They were still children of the evanuris—their souls were still his responsibility.

He cut a slow path through the despondent and empty streets until he found the dilapidated remains of the chantry. The monsters kept a respectful distance from him. They seemed to recognize him as a being of power, too much power for them to handle. He studied them in morbid curiosity for a moment. It was a truly frightening thing to see darkspawn react so intelligently. The last time he had ventured here, the darkspawn behaved mindlessly—but there was something different about them now. It was interesting…in a horrifying way. Had he the time, he would have had a mind to poke around this dimension for a while longer to truly experiment. He had a war to prepare for however, so he pressed on with his objective.

It didn't take him long to find Myrris's body. He had learned long ago to simply narrow down the area and look for the wretched soul that appeared to have gone out in a "blaze of glory" as he would have put it. How many times had he done this before? Surely too much to count now—and it surely didn't matter. Myrris was damned for eternity. And eternity is simply too long to put a number to, after all.

Falon'Din knelt over his charge slowly, examining the possessed husk he inhabited. At least he appeared to be intact this time, a minor miracle so far as he was concerned. He set to work performing the all-too-familiar reanimation ritual. So practiced was he that it took only a few short moments before Myrris was gasping and coughing the air back into his lungs. "Ah! Fenhed—!"

A slender, nearly skeletal hand covered Myrris's mouth tightly before he could make too much noise. "As obnoxious as ever, I see. I would advise you to keep your commotion to a minimum. Unless of course you want to go through this again."

Myrris pried his hand off with a grunt. His chest was still heaving but he did his best to keep his voice at a hushed tone. "Nice to see you too, Falon'Dick."

"Ah, I did miss your particular brand of humor. It's been far too quiet while you were resting on your laurels." The elven god of death gestured to the aftermath of the carnage around them. "I must say, you picked a rather horrifying end this time. Tell me, did you find something worth dying for?"

Myrris sat upright with a truly disgruntled groan, managing to give his nemesis a thoroughly rude gesture. "Yeah. This universe's Cullen and some others made it out…It's kinda nice to die as a hero every once in a while, now that you mention it."

Falon'Din shook his head disapprovingly. "Always so concerned for the shemlens. I would warn you that they would be your downfall, but well, we both know that doesn't much matter to you anymore."

"Yeah, yeah, fuck you too." Myrris caught a glimpse of a genlock gnawing on a corpse just outside the chantry and suddenly felt his stomach churn. He turned his attention back with a sneer on his face. "You wanna actually tell me why I got thrown here? Oh, by the way—pretty dick move to break the mirror. I mean, who even does that?!"

A deep frown crossed the God's face. "I was pondering that particular quandary myself…but judging from your reaction, it seems you won't have the answers I seek either. A pity."

Myrris did his best to imitate Cassandra's patented disgusted noise. "What a twat."

"Ah, of course. As enlightening as ever. Well, if you'll be of no further help, then I suppose I shall leave you to your stumbling. I'm actually quite eager to see if you do in fact discover your purpose here—more so if you find out who exactly sent you here, but that is neither here nor there it seems." Falon'Din slowly stood up and began making his way towards the ruined streets. "Until we meet again, Myrris. I'm sure it won't be long."

Myrris grumbled under his breath as he watched Falon'Din disappear. It was an impressive trick the first time that he'd seen it. But after, what, hundreds of years at least? It was nothing special. Neither was whatever bits of rambling he was going on about. Did he really try to claim that he didn't send him here? What kind of an utter moron would he have to be to believe that shit? Like a member of the evanuris would ever suffer someone encroaching upon their territory. Myrris shivered involuntarily, becoming thoroughly creeped out that he was thinking like Falon'Din for even a moment.

"Okay, okay, fuck that…now, how do I get out of this shit show…"

Behind him, a low bit of growling alerted him to the fact that a certain kind of beasty was within his proximity. Myrris slowly looked back to find a genlock standing behind him. "Ah shit…"

He shot a quick glance outside, which confirmed that this was the same one that was just having a snack on the steps of the chantry. It strangely didn't attack him immediately either. It looked at him strangely, drawing in close to sniff at him.

Myrris nearly gagged. "Ah, fuck, ever hear of a tic-tac?"

The genlock's features grew alert suddenly. The creature reared it head back and emitted an ear-piercing roar. Its roar was almost instantly answered by cries and screeches from across the city, there was a noticeable rumble in the ground. Myrris wasn't sticking around to see how many of big, fat, and ugly's buddies were coming to eat him. He quickly dived through a broken window, managing to snag his clothes on the shattered glass in the process and rip them even further.

"Okay Zombie Apocalypse mode engaged." He muttered to himself as he took off in a dead sprint towards the edge of town. "Cardio is my buddy, rule number one is down." He rounded a corner, unwittingly coming in to full sight of an emissary that lurked in a nearby ruined building. The structure was so damaged that you could see right through to the back of it; the emissary appeared to have been coming from the decrepit bathroom. Myrris pushed himself to run even faster, employing the zig-zag method so as not to die like an actual moron this time. "Remember kids: always beware of bathrooms!"

When Cullen led the refugees to Denerim, they did not find the salvation they had been hoping for. Instead, the city was under a lock-down. Everyone was being scrutinized and damn near harassed by the guardsmen. The King had just been murdered; they'd learned. Cullen couldn't claim to have known the man enough to really care about it. He was just a royal ass to warm the royal throne, to be honest. But it only served to further convince him that the whole world was going to shit again. After going through all of the red tape to get the civilians safely behind the city walls, Cullen seemed to have a dangerous amount of free time on his hands. Cassandra had all but dragged him to see proper doctors, who had put him on 'light duty' for the foreseeable future. Not that it much mattered anyway. His new official orders were to wait for an audience with the Divine.

It was the waiting that was most painful. The sitting on his hands and doing fuck all. The Chantry was gracious enough to provide him and the other remaining templars with pre-furnished apartments. They were so gracious it seemed, that they had intended to take away every possible task that could have possibly served to distract him. The apartment was furnished. The utilities were hooked up and paid for in advance. They even set up basic cable. The fridge had even come fully stocked as well, though he had yet to touch anything but the Ferelden pale ale and the healing poultices. He wasn't even sure why he bothered with the poultices. They tasted like absolute shit. And it wasn't like he was any good to anyone even when he was fully healed, it wasn't like it actually mattered when he recovered…or if.

The cable lineup was disappointingly or outright mind-numbing at the best of times. He had no grand routine beyond surfing the channels and occasionally rising from the couch to grab another ale. He must have spent days doing nothing but just that. He never once felt hungry, but it seemed his body had simply forgotten to tell him about it. The simple act of rising to feed his new addiction seemed to be his undoing. His head grew fuzzy quickly, his vision blurred as if a bloody spell had affected him…he never felt himself hit the floor but he was keenly aware that he was unconscious somehow. Demons were suddenly swarming him from all sides, but he was seemingly paralyzed. They tormented him in all the usual ways. With their pokes and prods and their barbed words and seductively whispered offers. It happened so often that it felt like old news now…can you truly keep calling them nightmares if they start to become so commonplace that you've desensitized yourself from even your worst fear? He only vaguely remembered hearing a man's voice before the demons were banished away from him…

When he woke up on his couch, he found Barris and Cassandra sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the coffee table, staring down at him disappointedly. They were both dressed in civilian clothes—Cassandra even wore makeup around her eyes, which he only really noticed because of how odd a sight it was. Still didn't change the fact that they seemed intent on bothering him though.

"Oh, what now?"

Barris turned to the Seeker momentarily. "See? I told you he'd be grumpy."

Cassandra seemed wholly disturbed. "This behavior is truly unbecoming."

Cullen groaned as he slowly sat upright, bringing his feet to rest on the floor. His head still felt wobbly but he brushed it off for now. He ran his hand down the side of his face, suddenly realizing that his facial hair had grown out of control. Must be a sight to see, he mused bitterly. "What do you want?"

"Well, for starters." Barris reached behind him and held up an empty poultice bottle. "Have you been bloody drinking this?"

"Doctor's orders." He griped.

Cassandra shared a concerned look with Barris. "It was meant to be applied topically."

Cullen huffed a bitter laugh, "Just add to the list of my failures."

"Alright, that's it." Barris tossed down the empty bottle and pointed an authoritative finger at his friend. "You're changing your damned clothes and you're coming with us."

Cassandra shot him a confused glance. "That wasn't the plan?"

Barris shrugged. "Plan changed when I saw how mopey he is. A stern talking to isn't going to see him though this. He needs to get out. Eat a hearty meal. Let loose."

"You're going to take him out? In public?"

Cullen groaned again. "No. He's not."

"We are," He corrected, giving Cullen a stern look. "And it isn't up for debate. Now change your damned clothes."

"You can't order me, Lieutenant." Cullen nearly spat his words out with hateful intent. He wasn't sure if he meant it, but he knew he wasn't about to make any effort to correct it.

"Actually, he can," Cassandra agreed. "The Divine promoted him to Knight-Captain and appointed him to lead the Lothering templars while you're…indisposed."

Cullen's gaze darkened as he focused on Barris again. "So, this is it, is it? You're finally coming for my job now? I should have bloody well known."

"Alright, I'm not listening to this." He stood up abruptly, grabbing the collar of Cullen's shirt and pulling him up with him. "You've got two options: you go into your damn bedroom and change your maker-forsaken clothes, or I drag you down to the corner pub just as you are."

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. "Please tell me the latter isn't actually an option."

"He has a choice of how he wants to do it." Barris made sure to make eye contact with Cullen to ensure that he heard and processed what he was about to say to him. "But he has to move on from here."

Cullen recognized those words. He had told Barris that when he showed up at the Lothering chantry, begging to join the order. His parents had just been exiled, his older brother had disowned him to horde their parents' money and influence to himself. Barris had nothing left then, but Cullen gave him a chance to make himself better. And now…it seems the roles had reversed. Cullen wasn't exactly sure that he was humbled or anything by the realization, but it certainly struck him emotionally.

He fought to keep tears in his eyes as he nodded quietly at him. He was silent as he changed in to clean clothes and freshened himself up with deodorant and cologne. He didn't even say a word when as he followed Barris and Cassandra to the pub on the corner. He wasn't quite ready to admit it yet, but he was starting to think that Barris had the right idea. The fresh air alone seemed to be doing wonders for his mood.

The pub was busy, it seemed it was their karaoke night. Cullen didn't really mind though, watching people make fools out of themselves was oddly therapeutic. The food helped immensely too; he couldn't remember the last time he had a proper Ferelden stew made for him. Watching all of these people drinking and chat around him somehow began to seem like a glimmer of hope for him. They were blissfully unaware of the danger they could all be in soon…but maybe that was good? What purpose did the constant worry serve? Perhaps that was the beer talking though. Cullen was rather astonished to see that Barris was encouraging him furthering his new drinking habit. Not that he was complaining about that, either. He was so damned depressed that it seemed the alcohol only served to make him give less and less of a damn the more he drank. Barris had left Cassandra and Cullen by themselves for several minutes. And by the end of Cullen's third beer, he was regaling Cassandra with stories from Lothering.

"And then," Cullen leaned heavily against her for a moment, nearly knocking her off of her stool. "He just comes waltzing right through, right?" He burst into to a completely inebriated chuckle. "Naked as the day the Maker made him. He fucking salutes us and carries on his way."

"He did not!"

"I swear! Ah, Meredith wanted to fry him for it. But because he kept the damn helmet on, no one could ever prove it was him!"

Cassandra snickered. She was taking great pleasure in knowing that they'd turned his mood around for the better, at least for now. "Except for you, perhaps."

"What? Me? No, no, no, no…no. That would violate bro code."

"I refuse to believe that a Knight-Commander follows a 'bro code' over a long-standing Chantry edit."

"Hey, now," He pointed at her sloppily with his mug. "Bro code predates the Chantry. You can't disrespect it." He drained the last of his beer, setting down the empty glass mug a little too roughly. "I there's a hole in my cup."

Cassandra rolled her eyes playfully as Barris strolled back up to the table. "Good, he can be your problem now."

"Heeeeey, don't be mean! You're supposed to be making me feel better again."

Barris clapped his shoulder, eyeing him with a mischievous smile. "Lucky for you, I got just the thing to do that."

"More beer?"

"Even better." He shot a knowing smirk in Cassandra's direction before leading Cullen towards the back of the pub. He weaved his way through the crowd until he placed Cullen in front of the stage.

Cullen looked around sluggishly, obviously confused. "Where's the beer?"

"Oh, right, about that. You can't get any more unless you sing a song."

"What?" He limply pointed towards the DJ who was running the karaoke booth. "Whatever happened to money, hmm?"

Barris turned him back towards him. "Think of it this way: You can only buy one beer, right? But if you sing, you get all of the beers!"

"All of them? Really?"

"Every last one." Barris fought hard to keep himself from bursting out laughing. Cullen was going to hate him in the morning. But it would be worth it, and he'd have fun for now. That's all that really mattered.

"So, what's this about a song?"

"Don't worry about it! You just get on the stage, and I'll pick one for you."

Cullen hugged him suddenly. "You're a real friend, I like you."

Barris snickered as he reached down into the prop tote and pulled out a cowboy hat. "Here, it's dangerous to go up there alone."

"Right, good thought…need the hat." Cullen shoved the hat roughly on his head as he stumbled onto the stage. He was only vaguely aware of what he was doing—but his brain thought every last bit of this was a great idea. He threw his hands up in the air and addressed the pub. "I'm gonna sing!"

The pub patrons roared cheerfully for him, raising their glasses and shouting encouragements at him. Barris conducted a hushed conversation with the DJ, who seemed totally amused by whatever he had said to him. When he was done, he shuffled his way back to sit at the table with Cassandra. Whatever he said to her had made her laugh too.

Cullen sat up there on the stage waiting for a painfully silent moment or two before the song started playing. He rolled his head to read the lyric screen. "Honky Tonk Badon—hey I know this song!"

Barris stood up from the table, shouting up to him, "Sing, man, sing!" The pub patron's roared in agreement, giving drunk Cullen the confidence to put on one hell of a show.

Cassandra was nearly in tears before the song was through. "Maker's Breath, I thought they would have kicked him out by now."

Cullen had seemingly thought it was a wondrous idea to take his shirt off and swing it around above his head on stage. Barris nearly doubled over with laughter. "He's going to kill us."

"We'll simply have to remind him that he had fun."

Barris clinked his glass with Cassandra's. "I'll drink to that."

They would most certainly have a catastrophic fallout in the morning. But for now, they needed this. The world could wait until tomorrow before it ended, right?