Alistair

Maker have mercy on him, she was kissing him. She'd come to his doorstep in the middle of the night, wearing next to nothing, and she'd come to do this to him. Any other time, he would have welcomed it, savored it, reveled in her attention. But after what he just saw – her, writhing underneath the man he hated most in the world, only days after Mahariel's death... Alistair had limits to what he could endure.

After allowing her to tempt him for a few seconds, he reluctantly pushed her away from him. Conflicting emotions raged in him as he immediately missed her soft lips against his. She looked crestfallen and when he searched her face for more, an answer to her actions – anything, she couldn't look him in the eyes and her gaze dropped to her feet. Alistair hated seeing her like this, so unlike her usual confident self, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

After a full minute of painful silence, he couldn't take it anymore. "Sit down. If you have something to say to me, say it," he said and motioned for one of the chairs by the fire. She nodded and walked over to it and sank down. He sat down opposite of her and waited for her to say something.

"There's something wrong with me, Alistair. Someone is doing something to me. I have no control over it." She still didn't look at him.

He was ashamed when a tiny bit of hope awoke in him alongside the horror of the prospect of someone doing something against her will. "What do you mean?" Maybe the thing with Cullen wasn't...

"I can see what you're thinking, Alistair, and I don't mean that," she said. She was at least looking at him now, her head held straight. "What I did with Cullen, I... nobody made me do that."

Maker, he didn't want to hear this. But he said nothing.

"But before that, I was unconscious. It was like someone was attacking my mind. I don't remember much but I remember that when I awoke, I was afraid and Cullen was there, watching over me, just like last time and... I just needed to feel alive, you know? To feel something other than that horrifying, black abyss swallowing me up. And you know how I feel about him, I've never lied to you about that. I know that you knew the minute you decided to pursue me or whatever it is that you're doing. Maybe that's even what spurred you on, the competition, the game? I don't know what I was thinking when I came here, I just... needed you, too, I guess."

Now it was Alistair's turn to stare at his feet. Her honesty was unexpected. She was so good at playing games, he'd never thought she would just confess what had actually happened. And he didn't know how to feel about it. He was hurt, true, and angry. So fucking angry that he wanted nothing more than to gut her precious commander and to shake Ashe and make her see how stupid she was for falling for his wicked abuse. But he couldn't deny the things she said about himself, about his intentions. He had known about Cullen, he could see it from the moment he saw the Commander looking at her. He'd even found it amusing at first.

He looked up at her, straightening himself to match her stance. "Back then, Ashe, it... I admit, it was more of a game to me. But I didn't know you then, you were just an intriguing, powerful woman and I wanted... Maker, I don't know what to say, but all that changed when I fell for you. You are more than just the Inquisitor, so much more, and it felt like you understood me, that you saw me as more than just a king. In fact, you didn't even seem to care about my title. Why should you? My status is not above yours. You have no idea how much you amaze me, not because you're pretty much the only equal I have around me, but because of who you are as a person. You're not perfect, but you don't apologize for that. You do what you want, and I can't blame you. You make me feel more human, Ashe. And I can't stop thinking about you. That's why it hurts so fucking much."

She watched him with an expression impossible to read, and after his last words, silence fell over the room. He'd rambled, he knew, but at least he'd been honest with her.

She got up and stood before the fire, staring into it for a few moments, before she turned and looked at him. "I really like you Alistair. More than you know. And I'm sorry that you saw what happened earlier, it was really bad of me to do such a thing under your roof, disrespectful even."

She looked genuinely sad, and Alistair could feel some of his anger toward her dissipate. She'd said herself that she'd been confused and afraid. Really, it was Cullen who was to blame for taking advantage of her. Maybe he was just making excuses for her but it was so much easier to believe what his heart wanted to believe.

"I know I can't keep doing this forever," she continued. "Sure, I can do what I want, it's my right. But the same is true for you and Cullen and neither of you will accept this for much longer, I know. But there's too much going on right now, and I don't know what to do." She turned and stared into the fire again. "I don't know who's after me." Her voice almost broke over her last words and Alistair couldn't help himself as he stood up and went to her. He put his arms around her from behind and she clutched her arms around his and he felt something wet splash against his hand. Andraste, was she crying?

"I hate, hate what this is doing to me. Making me weak like this," she whispered. "Swords and arrows I can deal with, Maker knows I've been bruised and cut and wounded countless times, that doesn't scare me. But someone is messing with my head, Alistair, and I can't fucking take it, not knowing who it is or what they're doing."

A thought struck him then, something he'd pushed to the side before. "My men said earlier that they'd apprehended someone, an intruder inside the walls. I didn't think of it much then because they also told me that I needed to go to your quarters, that something had happened to you. I thought at the time that the two were unrelated, because when I got to you, all I found was... you know."

She squeezed his hand a little tighter, as if to say she was sorry again. "Who was the intruder?" she asked.

"I don't know. They only told me they'd taken him to Fort Drakon."

She turned around and looked at him. "Could it be him, you think?"

"Let's find out, shall we?"

Ashe

The earliest signs of daylight was coloring the sky when they stepped inside the gates of Drakon. Ashe remembered that she'd promised Cullen that she'd be there in the morning when he woke up, and that he would probably be livid to wake up and find her missing. But it couldn't be helped. If this prisoner was the one who'd attacked her, she needed to know.

While they walked deeper into the fort, the jailer told them what he knew about the prisoner.

"A male, in his thirties by the looks of him, mage. We put him in a warded cell to strangle his magic, as per protocol and by the Commander's orders."

Alistair stopped walking abruptly and Ashe almost bumped into him from behind. "What the fuck do you mean, 'the Commander's orders'?" he snarled.

"Only what I was told by the captain who brought the man in, your Majesty. The prisoner was found lurking around in your quarters, Lady Inquisitor," the man said and looked at Ashe.

Cold shivers ran down the length of her spine. "In my quarters?" she asked, incredulous.

Alistair looked positively fuming. "I'll deal with this later," he said, his jaw tight and his words strained. Ashe could hear in his voice that heads would roll later on, but for now, Alistair motioned for the jailer to keep walking. After several more minutes of spiraling stairways deeper into the dungeon they arrived outside a small cell with a door, only a tiny, barred opening at the top, barely large enough to see through. The corridor they were standing in was lined with guards. They weren't taking any chances with this one, apparently.

"Here we are your Majesty, Lady Inquisitor. I'll open the door for you, and don't worry, there's still a ward in place so he can't come out or hurt you."

The jailer proceeded with unlocking the door and swung it open. Alistair stood in front of Ashe protectively, and she thought it was sweet that he did so despite the jailers' assuring words.

Inside the small cell, a man sat in the corner with his hood up. He almost looked like he was sleeping, his chin against his chest. There was something so familiar about him. When he looked up and the hood fell back, disbelief washed over her. She hadn't seen that face since she was seventeen years old. She stepped around Alistair, deaf to his protests and positioned herself right in front of the lightly shimmering barrier.

The man got up to his feet and stood right in front of her. Were it not for the barrier, she could have reached out and touched his face easily. She was flooded with confusion. What was he doing here? He... he hadn't done all this to her, had he? No, it couldn't be.

"Adrian, is that you?" she whispered and held her palm up against the barrier without even thinking about it.

The man smiled and held his hand up as if to touch hers on the other side. "Yes, kitten, it's really me."

That stupid grin that she'd laughed at so many times, the adoration she could see clear as day in his eyes – there was no way in the Fade that he was the one behind the attacks, she was sure of it. Until she heard Alistair speak behind her.

"Your name is not Adrian, though, is it, Anders?"