The planned route to the Hinterlands sounded simple enough to Kira. They would descend the mountains, traveling east, and follow the existing road that bordered Lake Calenhad. The Hinterlands lay on the far side of the lake and to the south. According to Cassandra, it was a two-day ride, but the fledgling Inquisition did not have enough horses for Kira, her companions, and the small group of soldiers and scouts who would accompany them. Instead, they would travel by wagon, and their trip would take double the time. The mage could only hope that they found Horsemaster Dennett and could convince him of the Inquisition's need for mounts.

On the morning of their departure, Kira rose before the sun and dressed quickly in her warmest clothes. Having spent most of her life in the Circle, she was not accustomed to spending days on end in the great outdoors, and Haven had done little to prepare her for this journey. Being near the village meant being near cabins in which to shelter from the worst winds, warm beds piled with blankets and furs to ward off the midnight chill, and roaring fires crackling in cozy hearths. What was more, Haven had somehow become home, and Kira was loath to leave it. Even if it was for only a few weeks. Or a month, if we're unlucky, she thought with a sigh.

The mage arrived at the stables ahead of her companions, although several of the soldiers were already helping their few stable hands to load the wagons. A soldier offered to take her larger pack, which carried extra clothing and other necessities for camp, and she gave it to him with a polite nod and a smile. The soldier would surely know better than she how to pack all the required gear and supplies into the wagons. She would only get in the way.

Kira swung the smaller pack, which contained a variety of herbs and potion-making paraphernalia, over one shoulder. She leaned casually against Haven's outer wall, fiddling with her staff grip, as she waited for her traveling companions to assemble and the soldiers to finish their packing. Theirs was a small group; Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen would remain in Haven. As the highest ranking members of the Inquisition, they would be of more use at home than in the field. Josephine had no interest in joining them, preferring the dangers of courtly intrigue to the physical perils of the field. Leliana also seemed content to stay behind.

"Every agent out in the world is my eyes, my ears, my blade," Leliana had explained when Kira asked. "Wherever my people are, I am also. Coming with you, leaving my post, would blind and bound me. Do you see?"

Cullen did not seem so content. While he did not complain aloud, Kira thought she had seen his jaw clench ever-so-slightly when they had discussed the importance of keeping the Inquisition's leaders in camp, as though he were biting back words of disagreement. Though they had spent only a little time together, Kira thought he seemed like a man of action. She wondered how much he chafed at the order to stay behind. She hadn't had a chance to ask him.

Cassandra was the first traveler to arrive, nodding curtly to Kira as she delivered her own packs to the soldiers. Varric and Solas, both of whom had elected to stay with the Inquisition until the Breach was sealed, joined them shortly thereafter. It was these three who would accompany Kira to the Hinterlands, and she found herself glad of the company. They had all fought well together to seal the Breach, after all, and she trusted them to continue to watch her back.

When they finally left Haven, it was in a train of four wagons. They rode east, following well-maintained trails descending through the mountains, curving this way and that through ancient pine forests. It was a quiet morning. Varric was the only cheerful person in the group, and quickly gave up on conversation when it became clear that no one was willing to engage in his usual banter. Solas seemed not to care one way or another about the time of day, but Cassandra leveled a chilling glare at anyone who dared speak. Neither she nor Kira were what one might call "morning people."

Their descent had a certain picturesque beauty that Kira had not anticipated, and she spent most of her morning silently admiring the view from her seat on the lead wagon's bench. They stopped briefly for lunch, and afterwards, the group was in much better spirits. When Cassandra and Varric began bickering, Kira hopped from the wagon to walk for a while, and quickly found Solas walking beside her.

"The Chosen of Andraste," he greeted her with a smile. "A blessed hero sent to save us all."

She made a face. "Am I riding in on a shining steed?"

He chuckled. "I would have suggested a griffon, but sadly, they're extinct. Joke as you will, posturing is necessary." He turned to gaze up at the Breach. "I've journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I've watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten." He turned back to her. "Every Great War has its heroes. I'm just curious what kind you'll be."

Kira flushed, embarrassed. She was no hero. She was just a Circle mage with a strange mark on her hand who was in way over her head. "What do you mean, ruins and battlefields?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Any building strong enough to withstand the rigors of time has a history. Every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen."

"You fall asleep in the middle of ancient ruins?" Kira asked, raising her eyebrows. He was either very confident or very stupid - or perhaps both. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"I do set wards. And if you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live."

Kira chuckled at that, despite her aversion to all things with more than four legs. "I've never heard of anyone going so far into the Fade," she admitted. "That's extraordinary!"

Solas smiled. "Thank you. It's not a common field of study, for obvious reasons. Not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning. But the thrill of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream? I would not trade it for anything."

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Eventually, she realized Solas was no longer beside her, and she climbed back into the wagon.

A few days later, they arrived at the Hinterlands camp. It was a larger camp than Kira had expected to find, and it absolutely teemed with life. Soldiers stood watch or practiced drills, scouts darted in between tents, and officers stalked through it all, giving orders and reprimanding anyone who slacked off. A dwarf extracted herself from the camp and trotted to meet them. She had auburn hair tied up in a braid and pinned to the back of her head, and her nose was covered with a light spattering of freckles.

"The Herald of Andraste!" the dwarf exclaimed. She spoke quickly, and with far more energy than Kira was prepared for after a long four-day wagon ride. "I've heard the stories. Everyone has. We know what you did at the Breach. Everyone's a little nervous around mages right now, but you'll get no back talk here. That's a promise." She saluted. "Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service. I - well, all of us here - we'll do whatever we can to help."

Varric chuckled. "Harding, huh? Ever been to Kirkwall's Hightown?"

The scout looked at him quizzically. "I can't say I have. Why?"

"You'd be Harding in…" He stopped and waited; when no one seemed to get the joke, he said, "Oh, never mind." Cassandra rolled her eyes.

"I'm starting to worry about these 'stories' that everyone's heard," Kira mused, attempting to divert attention from Varric's failed attempt at humor.

"Oh, there's nothing to worry about," Harding assured her cheerfully. "They only say you're the last great hope for Thedas."

The Herald blinked. "Oh. Wonderful. Is that all?"

Harding nodded, as though it was indeed wonderful to be responsible for saving the world. "The Hinterlands are as good a place as any to start fixing things," she said, leading them to a nearby table. A large map of the area was displayed on its surface. They spent the next half hour in conference with the dwarven scout, learning about the Inquisition's efforts in the area. The situation was, in a word, dire.

Mother Giselle was near an area simply called the crossroads, located just west of the Inquisition's camp. She was there to help refugees and the wounded, and from the sound of Harding's report, there were plenty who needed the help. The mage-templar fighting had gotten worse since the Conclave, and it had grown ever nearer the crossroads and its refugee camp. Now the combatants had besieged the area.

Finally, Harding stepped back, hands on her hips. "You best get going. No time to lose."


The battle at the crossroads was decidedly not what Kira had anticipated.

Everywhere she looked, there was death. Mages, templars, and innocent refugees alike fell among the ashes, screaming as they died. Half of the nearby buildings were on fire; the others provided shelter for anyone looking to avoid the bloodshed. Perhaps there had been order once, but the stacks of supplies Kira could see had long since been destroyed and now fueled the flames. No one seemed to care. They were all too busy fighting each other.

The arrival of the Inquisition's forces heralded the end of the battle. Mages and templars alike fell to Cassandra's sword, Varric's arrows, and Solas's staff. Kira, unused to battle against anything other than demons, hesitated too long; an enemy mage's attack left a searing burn across her left arm. She yelped, nearly dropping her staff as she hastily erected a barrier spell. A moment later, the mage sprouted an arrow from his right eye.

"Heads up!" shouted Varric.

Kira shook herself, forcing herself to focus. A templar was charging towards Cassandra, who was currently engaged with one of his brethren. With a shout, Kira cast an ice spell, halting the templar in his tracks. Her next shot was a fireball, and the ice shattered around the templar, who dropped to the ground, screaming as the flames consumed him.

As she cast spell after spell, Kira became numb. She had never wanted to be a killer, never even wanted to fight anyone, and she had naively thought that just because the Inquisition wanted to restore order, everyone else would fall in line. Instead, she was participating in a massacre. No, she told herself grimly as she narrowly avoided a templar's sword, we asked them to stop. They chose to keep fighting.

But that didn't make her feel any better.

Demons were different; their deaths in the real world simply sent them back to the Fade. They weren't human. Or, for that matter, elves, or dwarves, or qunari. She'd had no qualms about battling demons. But this? Cutting down those who could have been her friends?

When the battle was finally over, Kira swayed where she stood, her face gray and drawn. It wasn't long before the adrenaline left her, and she slipped away, heaving, to be sick in the nearby bushes. Her companions were kind enough to pretend they didn't see.

It took the better part of the day to set the crossroads to rights. Kira, her companions, and the rest of the Inquisition forces doused fires, searched the rubble, and dug graves. It was late afternoon by the time they had returned some semblance of order to the little refugee camp. It was then that Kira sought out Mother Giselle, who tended to the wounded nearby. As the Herald approached, she overheard an odd conversation between the revered mother and a wounded soldier.

"There are mages here who can heal your wounds," Mother Giselle was telling the soldier. She had a heavy Orlesian accent and spoke in a soft, soothing voice that immediately put Kira at ease.

The soldier was in obvious pain as he tried to refuse. "Don't… let them touch me, Mother," he begged. "Their magic -"

But Mother Giselle stopped him. "Turned to noble purpose, their magic is surely no more evil than your blade."

Kira raised an eyebrow at that. It certainly wasn't the view of magic that she'd learned from the Chantry. She was used to being shunned, mistrusted, even hated by the Chantry. Could she really find an ally in a revered mother?

In the end, the soldier gave in. Kira was impressed.

"Mother Giselle?" she called uncertainly. She still wasn't entirely sure what the revered mother wanted, or how she could possibly be of use when the Chantry had denounced Kira and the Inquisition so thoroughly.

Mother Giselle stood and turned to her, looking Kira over appraisingly. "I am. And you must be the one they're calling the Herald of Andraste." Kira blinked. She would have expected the woman's tone to be cold and accusatory, but Mother Giselle stated her title with little more than polite interest.

"Not through any choice of mine," she finally responded.

Mother Giselle nodded slightly, as though affirming Kira's sentiment. "We seldom have much say in our fate, I'm sad to say."

"So you agree with them?" Kira couldn't hide her surprise.

"I don't presume to know the Maker's intentions, for any of us," Mother Giselle deflected. "But I did not ask you to come simply to debate with me." The revered mother began to walk, gesturing for Kira to follow. "I know of the Chantry's denouncement, and I'm familiar with those behind it. I won't lie to you: some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chance of becoming the new Divine. Some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us…" She sighed.

"What happened was horrible," Kira agreed softly.

"Fear makes us desperate, but hopefully not beyond reason." Mother Giselle gazed out across the refugee camp. Finally, she looked back at Kira. "Go to them. Convince the remaining clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe."

Kira frowned, biting her lip thoughtfully. "That won't just make it worse?"

Mother Giselle tilted her head slightly to one side. "Could it be worse than it is?"

"Probably, yes."

"Let me put it this way: you needn't convince them all. You just need some of them to doubt. Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need."

They were silent for a moment. Nearby, the healer finished their work on the injured soldier and left him to rest and recover. "It's good of you to do this," Kira said finally, glancing at the revered mother.

Mother Giselle met her eyes. "I honestly don't know if you've been touched by fate or sent to help us… but I hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us… or destroy us." She paused, then added, "I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering. It's not much, but I will do whatever I can."

And with that, the revered mother swept away.

With the crossroads finally held by Inquisition forces, they tried to further spread the Inquisition's influence. A brief discussion with Corporal Vale, the leader of their forces in the area, revealed that the people who sheltered there were hungry and cold. They spent the following day hunting rams and searching for supply caches left behind by fleeing apostates. It was tedious work, trekking through the brush and scrambling up and down hillsides, and more often than not, they found nothing for their efforts. They clashed briefly with a small group of mages and a handful of templars, making quick work of their opponents. Kira vomited after each encounter, unable to burn her victim's cries from her mind.

That afternoon, having delivered the ram meat to the crossroads, they set out in a new direction and came across a burning hut. A few templars looked on, talking and laughing; when they saw the Herald and her companions, they attacked with a shout. Once they were dead and the hut's walls reduced to ash, Kira picked through the wreckage carefully. Inside, she found the remains of several apostates, identifiable only by the metal inlays that had once been on their staves.

"The apostates locked themselves in for safety, and then the templars set the house on fire," she said, not wanting to believe what her eyes were telling her. If she had not been at the Conclave, had not survived the explosion and joined the Inquisition, this could have been her. It could have been any of the mages, whether they had chosen to be apostates or not. Blinking away angry tears, she stalked from the ruined cabin.

Those templars' deaths were the first she did not mourn.

That night, they decided to set up their own camp rather than hike back to the main Inquisition base. Kira volunteered for the first watch, haunted by the sight of those burned bodies. Those mages had hidden from the templars; they may not have been rogue apostates out for blood. The templars were not defending themselves against attacking mages; instead, they had appeared to be enjoying the sport of the hunt. Had the templars found it entertaining to try to burn the mages out like foxes from a hole? The ones in her Circle may have been distant and cold, but most of them would not have hurt their charges just because they could. These templars were a symbol of everything that was wrong with the Order.

She found herself thinking suddenly of Cullen. Had he left the templars for that very reason? Had the entire order fallen so low that he, and others like him, could no longer stand to be a part of it? He did not seem the type to relish a mage's pain. On the contrary, he'd been nothing but kind to her. He may watch her occasionally, but she assumed it was a habit to keep an eye on any mages around, especially one with the kind of power Kira now wielded.

Movement at her side distracted her as Cassandra appeared, apparently unable to sleep. The women sat in silence for a moment.

"Worried?" Kira asked.

"It is that obvious?" Cassandra replied, disgusted.

"I'm afraid so."

The Seeker sighed. "Did I do the right thing? What I have set in motion could destroy everything I have revered my whole life." She talked softly so as not to disturb the others. "One day, they may write about me as a traitor, a madwoman, a fool. And they may be right."

Kira was quiet for a moment. "What does your faith tell you?"

Cassandra looked her in the eye. "I believe you are innocent. I believe more is going on here than we can see. And I believe no one else cares to do anything about it. They will stand in the fire and complain that it is hot. But is this the Maker's will? I can only guess."

"You don't think I'm the Herald of Andraste?" The mage was surprised. Cassandra seemed so full of faith, and had taken so easily to referring to Kira as 'the Herald.' Probably just for show, she reminded herself, reminding herself of Solas's words. Posturing is necessary.

"I think you were sent to help us. I hope you were. But the Maker's help takes many forms. Sometimes it is difficult to discern who it truly benefits, or how."

That didn't answer my question, thought Kira. "What's going to happen now?"

Cassandra sighed. "Now we deal with the Chantry's panic over you before they do even more harm. Then we close the Breach. We are the only ones who can. After that, we find out who is responsible for this chaos, and we end them. And if there are consequences to be paid for what I have done, I pay them. I only pray the price is not too high."

"You didn't have any choice," Kira objected, but she didn't really believe it. There was always a choice, and Cassandra made hers that day in the war room.

"Didn't I?" The Seeker was quiet for a moment. "My trainers always said, 'Cassandra, you are too brash. You must think before you act.' But I see what must be done, and I do it! I see no point in running around in circles like a dog chasing its tail. But I misjudged you in the beginning, did I not? I thought the answer was before me, clear as day. I cannot afford to be so careless again."

The Herald stared into the darkness surrounding their camp. Cassandra's words were the closest thing to an apology she had yet to hear. "It wasn't like you had no reason to suspect me," she admitted.

Cassandra shook her head. "I was determined to have someone answer for what happened. Anyone." With a sigh, the Seeker stood, stretching her arms over her head. She bid Kira good night and made to return to her bedroll, but then she paused and turned back. "You've said you don't believe you're chosen. Does that mean you also don't believe in the Maker?"

Kira looked down. She wanted to believe that there was something more out there, but the Chantry's teachings had never brought her comfort. How could they, when magic was so hated and feared by the Chantry? "I can't really say," she said softly.

"I suppose it doesn't matter now," Cassandra replied. "I have to believe we were put on this path for a reason, even if you do not. Now it simply remains to see where it leads us."

Cassandra retreated. Kira rubbed the mark on her palm absently, staring into the darkness for a long time.

The next morning, the group set out for Redcliffe Farms and Horsemaster Dennet. They encountered templars on the Western Road, and, not for the first time, Kira was surprised by how little they were able to affect her. Her magic had been suppressed by a templar only once in the Circle - a memory that she refused to think about now - and she had expected to feel much the same while fighting these rogue bands. But in each battle, she was able to cast her spells without a problem, and one by one, the templars fell. It wasn't supposed to be that easy.

After one skirmish, she said as much to Solas. The elf leaned on his staff, regarding their dead adversaries. "It must have been some time since the templars faced a mage of any real talent," he commented with a shrug. Although it was nice to have confirmation of her feelings, the way Solas looked at the dead templars, as though they had not been worthy of his time, was disconcerting. It didn't matter that the templars had attacked them first; to Kira, their death was a waste.

She was beginning to grow accustomed to the violence, and that scared her. She hadn't been sick after a battle since they'd killed the templar group at the burning hut the day before, and she found that with each kill, she grew a little more numb. Kira lay awake that night, forcing herself to remember their faces. She refused to stop caring, refused to think of the dead as faceless husks. They had been someone, once: a child, a sibling, a parent, a lover - someone would mourn their passing. So, too, should she.

Redcliffe Farms was oddly quiet, and the group was pleased to find Horsemaster Dennet alive and well in a cabin atop a small hill, looking over the rolling farmland below. He was hesitant to send a string of horses to the Inquisition until the fighting in the area was under control, but he kindly gifted the four of them mounts in return for clearing out a pack of demon-possessed wolves. Kira named her horse, a beautiful bay mare, Aylin. She had always liked horses, and looked back on horseback riding lessons in her youth, before her magic manifested, with fondness.

They stayed near Redcliffe Farms that night, setting up camp near a gently bubbling stream. Dennet's daughter, Seanna, had set up tracks throughout the area for the horses and invited Kira and her companions to try their hand at racing. Varric and Solas declined; Varric because his dwarven stature was not designed for horse racing, and Solas because he was, in Kira's opinion, far too serious to partake in such antics. With a little wheedling, Kira convinced Cassandra to join her, and they spent the last hours of the evening trying their best to beat Seanna's records. Kira was badly out of practice, but managed to keep her seat nonetheless; she resolved to practice once they returned to Haven.

It was an oddly lighthearted end to the day, but Kira felt the better for it. For the first time in weeks, she slept soundly as soon as her head hit her pillow.


Kira and her companions stayed in the Hinterlands for a few more days, exploring the land both on horseback and on foot, helping those they encountered who were in need. Despite everything, the mage had to admit that helping these people lifted her spirits. It felt good to be doing something as everything they knew crashed down around their ears.

They arrived back in Haven just before dark a few days later on their new mounts. They all slipped away to their respective quarters, agreeing that an early night would be just what the healer ordered. As Kira made her way to her cabin, stopped by several of Haven's inhabitants to chat briefly, she found herself longing for nothing more than her warm bed. When she finally arrived at the door to her little cabin, she went immediately to sleep.

The next few days were tiring. Between meetings to plan their visit the city to meet with the remaining Chantry clerics, Kira began training with Solas to learn magical combat. Although she had managed to hold her own in the field, she was far from experienced. Most of her knowledge about offensive magic had been purely theoretical until she'd stepped out of the Fade. Solas was a patient teacher, but it was hard work all the same.

In her free time, Kira took to spending time outside the village walls to find time away from the expectant gazes and worshipful whispers of Haven's inhabitants. After her meetings and training sessions ended each day, she would tack up her new mare, Aylin, and set off into the countryside surrounding Haven. Mostly, she just wanted some time away from it all to do something for herself, but she tried to keep an eye out for anything that could be of use to the Inquisition. She would mark areas of interest on the map that she carried and return the locations to the quartermaster, or the apothecary, or the blacksmith - whoever she thought would find a resource most helpful.

She wasn't the best navigator; although she could read a map well enough to follow a road, she struggled to measure the correct distances. After one too many expeditions returned empty handed because she had marked the wrong spot on the map, she had taken to carrying a journal in a pouch on her saddle. She would jot down notes and instructions - five minutes south of Haven at the trot, turn left at the big rock (and she would insert a drawing of said stone), ten minutes' walk into the forest - and turn these in to the townsfolk instead.

One evening, after a particularly long day in the saddle, she had just dismounted when a familiar voice made her jump. "You ride better than I would have expected of a Circle mage," Cullen observed, leaning against the rough wall of the hastily-constructed stable beside the smithy, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kira glanced at him. They hadn't spoken much since she had returned from the Hinterlands, and she worried that their fragile truce could have crumbled in her absence. But there was no hostility in his face, only a mild curiosity. She shrugged, turning to loosen Aylin's girth. "I learned to ride when I was a girl, before my magic manifested," she explained as she removed the saddle from the mare's back. "I always enjoyed it. I was sad to give it up when I joined the Circle. It is… an unexpected blessing to be able to pick it up again now."

Cullen raised an eyebrow, watching as she led the mare into the stall and removed her bridle gently. "It's the little things," he said wryly, and she smiled.

Kira stooped to grab a brush from a bin outside the stall. She began to brush the mare, smoothing the marks where the saddle had been. "If all I thought of was the Breach, I'd go mad," she told him. "We have to find something happy." She sighed, then added, "Perhaps especially the little things."

The Commander was silent for a moment, as though considering her words. "I suppose you're right," he admitted.

"Of course I am," Kira replied breezily, flashing a brilliant smile over her shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll learn eventually: I'm always right." Suddenly, she remembered who she spoke to and blushed. Cullen was the Commander of the Inquisition, an ex-templar. They might work together, but he was not one of her friends. She looked determinedly back at Aylin, ducking under the mare's neck to brush her off side.

When she peered over Aylin's back, she saw an expression hovering somewhere between amusement and disapproval on the Commander's handsome face. In the end, he gave in to a grin. "I will endeavor to keep that in mind," he said with a chuckle.

"Good," she told him, relieved. "See that you do." But she grinned to soften the words and was delighted when he laughed. "I see that you did indeed keep the peace while we were away."

"It's been quiet," he agreed as Kira exited her mare's stall. "I'm starting to wonder if you simply bring all the excitement with you."

She clasped a hand to her heart dramatically. "Commander! It's almost like you think I plan for insanity."

He pretended to consider. "No," he mused with a wicked glint in his eyes. "More like you continually stumble into it."

Kira made a face. "I'd be upset, but that is unfortunately true." Aylin poked her head out of her stall and began to nudge Kira's pockets. "All right, you silly thing. Here," she said, producing an apple from a pocket inside her coat. The mare took it daintily and disappeared into her stall.

The next morning, an angry mob gathered before the doors of the chantry. If Kira had not been on her way there herself, she might not have seen it; as it was, she stopped in her tracks as she took in the hostility. She had grown so used to working in mixed company that it took her a moment to realize that the throng had split into two groups - one of former templars and one of apostate mages who had joined the Inquisition in the weeks after the Conclave. Forcing herself to move, Kira thrust her shoulders back and raised her chin, a trick learned from her noble family to give one the appearance of confidence. After all, among the nobility - and, often, among others, as well - appearances were far more important than reality.

"Your kind killed the Most Holy!" shouted a templar furiously.

"Lies!" replied a mage. "Your kind let her die!"

Kira was astonished and infuriated. Such accusations were pointless at best; at worst, they would erode the tenuous peace that the Inquisition had managed to instill in their base. She strode forward, her mouth set in a thin line, determined to send the crowd on their way.

"Shut your mouth, mage!" snarled the templar, reaching for his sword. Kira gasped - she was still too far away. She'd never get there fast enough to stop him, and hurling magic at him would only make the situation worse.

But then Cullen was there, shoving himself between the two men with a shout. "Enough!"

"Knight-Captain -" the templar began, no doubt planning to explain his actions, but Cullen interrupted him.

"That is not my title," the Commander said firmly. "We are not templars any longer. We are all part of the Inquisition!"

The templar's mouth flattened into a thin line. He clearly disagreed with the Commander, but he released his sword's hilt anyway. The mage, too, stepped back, although he eyed Cullen warily. Kira was impressed. These people - templars and mages alike - clearly either respected or feared the Commander. Perhaps it was a bit of both. Not a bad trait to have as a military leader, Kira thought wryly.

A new voice spoke from the rear of the crowd. "And what does that mean, exactly?" sneered Chancellor Roderick as he stalked through the crowd. Kira rolled her eyes, noticing with amusement that the Commander's expression matched her own.

"Back already, Chancellor?" the Commander asked in a decidedly unwelcoming voice. Josephine would have disapproved, but Kira grinned in spite of herself. "Haven't you done enough?"

Undeterred, Roderick continued to approach. He pitched his voice so that the entire crowd could hear him. It was almost theatrical. Kira wondered if he had been an actor in a past life. "I'm curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its 'Herald' will restore order as you've promised."

"Of course you are," Cullen replied, his tone a mixture of disgust and resignation. He turned to the crowd with a scowl. "Back to your duties, all of you!"

As the crowd dispersed, Kira drew closer until she was at Cullen's elbow. She folded her arms over her chest, putting on her best noble face and regarding Chancellor Roderick with an expression of polite disinterest. Inwardly, she couldn't help but laugh. If she'd been asked a few weeks ago if she would ever stand side by side with a templar - former templar, she corrected herself - against the Chantry, she'd have laughed until she'd turned blue. Even so, here she was, joining Cullen as he glared at the Chancellor. Seeing her, the Commander's gaze softened almost imperceptibly. Well, at least he wasn't scowling at her quite as much as he was at Roderick. Kira was surprised the older man hadn't burst into flames.

"Mages and templars were already at war," explained Cullen with a sigh. "Now they're blaming each other for the Divine's death."

"Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order," the chancellor insisted, staring daggers at Kira.

The mage's eyes narrowed slightly, but before she could speak, the Commander snorted derisively at her side. "Who, you? Random clerics who weren't important enough to be at the Conclave?"

The Chancellor grew nearly purple with rage. "The rebel Inquisition and its so-called 'Herald of Andraste'?" he sputtered. "I think not!"

"If the 'proper' authority hadn't completed failed, the Conclave wouldn't have been needed," Kira pointed out, her voice calm despite the fact that she was inwardly seething.

Roderick was unfazed. "So you suggest I blame the Chantry and exalt a murderer? What of justice?"

"That won't help restore order in the here and now," said Cullen.

"Order will never be restored so long as this rebellion is allowed to fester," insisted the chancellor.

Kira bit back an irritated sigh. Although she knew the man was doing what he thought was right, it was still difficult not to strangle him for being so stubborn. Instead, she turned her gaze to the Commander. "Remind me why we're allowing the chancellor to stay?" she asked lightly, as though asking about a change in the weather.

"Clearly your templar knows where to draw the line."

Kira wasn't sure what to say to that, but for some reason she felt discomforted by the chancellor's words. Cullen wasn't her templar. More importantly, he wasn't a templar at all. Not anymore. Even if she still thought of him as one. Sometimes. But he wasn't like other templars, regardless of title. He was kind to her, if a bit wary, and more often than not, she felt that they were on the same side. She thought that perhaps, given time, they could even be friends.

But her templar? No. That was absurd.

"He's toothless," Cullen told her, oblivious to her discomfort. "There's no point turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth." Kira's mouth twitched as she suppressed a grin. "The chancellor's a good indicator of what to expect in Val Royeaux, however."

Kira grimaced. "Don't let anyone riot while we're gone," she said wryly.

Cullen smiled. "The walls will still be standing when you return. I hope."


After lunch, Leliana pulled Kira away from her travel preparations under the guise of giving the mage some last-minute advice about what to expect in Val Royeaux. The spymaster led the way mysteriously to Kira's little cabin, making small talk about the latest fashions and the best shops in Val Royeaux, until the door was safely closed behind them. Kira turned to her then, confused, but Leliana held up a hand. "Can you ward the room against eavesdroppers?" she asked, gesturing to the windows and door.

With a raised brow, Kira flicked her fingers towards the walls, casting a spell that would silence their conversation to anyone trying to listen from outside. That done, she turned back to the spymaster. "Leliana, what is this about?"

Leliana smiled. "I apologize for the secrecy, Herald, but I think you'll understand in a moment. I have something for you." She reached into a pocket and pulled out a small glass vial, holding it out to the mage.

For a moment, Kira wasn't sure what it was or why she might need it, but she reached out to take it instinctively. When her fingers touched the glass, she gasped and almost dropped it. "Leliana, this - this is -" The spymaster was smiling, and for once, there was no hidden meaning behind the smile. "How did you find this?"

"I sent my most trusted agents with instructions to return with it, or to find proof that it had been destroyed," Leliana explained. "If it was intact, and our enemies found it… well, you know better than I what damage could be done with a mage's phylactery."

"I thought it was lost," Kira whispered, staring at the vial in her hands: a glass tube with no opening that contained a few drops of her blood. In the right hands - or the wrong ones - it could lead someone to her, allowing them to track her no matter where she was. Some talented mages or templars could even use phylacteries to cast a spell or a silence on a mage from afar.

A new thought occurred to Kira. She looked at Leliana sharply. "Why would you give this to me?" she asked. "I would have thought - shouldn't you have kept it?"

"We do not all want mages on a leash," Leliana replied coolly. After a moment's silence, she softened. "I've known mages. Some of them were better people than I. And yet I'm free, and they're not. It's not right."

Their eyes met in mutual understanding, and quiet stretched between them. Before, Kira had not been sure of where she stood with Leliana; now, she felt more comfortable with the spymaster. "Thank you," Kira finally whispered, reaching out to squeeze Leliana's arm gratefully. "Truly. This - I - it means more to me than I can say."

Leliana smiled, just for a moment, before her mask slid back into place. "It belongs to you. Do with it as you will." And with that, she left the cabin.

That evening, Kira sat on her bed, staring at the vial in her hands. Sometimes, she would walk towards the fire, contemplating what might happen if she were to throw the phylactery into the flames. It wouldn't work - phylacteries were made to withstand worse - but the idea of destroying it flickered through her mind all the same. No more chains, no more control, no more chance of being hunted… it seemed almost too good to be true.

But every time she had made up her mind to get rid of the damned thing, she faltered. It was her phylactery, her blood. It had been made when she was but a child joining the Circle, and unlike many of her fellow mages, she hadn't experienced particularly harsh treatment there. She had enjoyed some of her time in the Circle. She had made friends, had learned magic, had come to understand people from all walks of life. She may not want the Circles to return to the way they were, but she had good memories from her youth. Destroying the phylactery… somehow it seemed like spitting on all of the good memories as much as burning the bad to ash.

That night, Kira tossed and turned, unable to sleep. When she closed her eyes, images of the people she'd killed danced behind her eyes, holding her phylactery as they sank into mass graves. When she tried to follow, they appeared behind her, swarming to drag her into darkness.

She woke frequently, sweating, flinging her blankets aside and grasping the phylactery that lay on the nearby table with shaking hands. Finally, exhausted and irritated, her nerves frayed, Kira rose from her bed. She found some leather ties and wove a necklace for the phylactery, enchanting the leather so that it would not break.

When it was done, she hung the phylactery on its cord around her neck and was pleased to find that it was long enough to be hidden beneath her tunic. The cord was unassuming; anyone who noticed that she wore a necklace would most likely assume that it was a religious trinket of some kind. And most people would never see it beneath the armor she wore in the field. It would be safe, and she would not constantly worry about losing it. Until she decided what to do with it, she would just keep it on her at all times.

Although weaving the phylactery into a necklace had calmed the mage, she found herself still too wound up to sleep. She decided on a walk to clear her mind and quickly pulled on her boots and a thick overcoat. Even on a mild night, Haven was far enough into the Frostbacks to leave Kira perpetually chilled, and a midnight jaunt promised to be frigid.

The mage was pleased to find that it was a clear night; a full moon lit her way through Haven's gates. She plodded past sentries, half-built trebuchets, and the sea of tents that housed the bulk of the Inquisitions forces, finally coming to a stop once she'd reached the frozen lake. Pulling her coat tightly around herself, she stalked to the end of the old dock where she'd talked to Cullen all those weeks ago and plopped down at its end, dangling her legs over the edge.

She gazed up at the night sky, her eyes tracing patterns in the stars. It was quiet, the world muted beneath the deep indigo of midnight. She thought of the people sleeping behind her, of their families, of their thoughts and wishes and dreams, and she bit her lip against the tears that threatened, the injustice of it all that she, of all people should be their champion against the Breach and whoever - or whatever - had created it. It was still there, even now, flickering green in the sky; she turned her gaze resolutely away, distracting herself by naming the constellations she could see.

Somehow it didn't surprise Kira that the Commander found her there; he joined her at the end of the dock, sitting beside her quietly. Something had changed between them when they stood together against Roderick; where before there was discomfort and awkwardness, there was now warmth and camaraderie. She glanced at Cullen from beneath her lashes. His golden hair was tousled, as though he had run his fingers through it too many times, and there were circles under his eyes that she hadn't noticed before. He wore a simple tunic and breeches under a heavy coat. It was strange to see him out of his usual armor.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked her tentatively, as though afraid to break the fragile peace between them.

She hummed in assent. "Just worried about Val Royeaux," she said. It was only half a lie. She was worried about confronting the Chantry clerics, but there was so much more than that on her mind. Tears threatened again as she remembered just how much was on her shoulders.

If Cullen noticed the way she swiped at her eyes, he didn't say anything. Instead, he said wryly, "I would say it would all be fine, but it is Val Royeaux."

"It feels a bit like walking into a viper's nest," Kira admitted with a watery chuckle.

Cullen grimaced. "I imagine that's not too far off." He hesitated. "I know there is a great deal depending on you," he added. "Just… try to remember you don't have to shoulder the burden alone."

Kira smiled. "That is comforting, Commander. Thank you." She wished she could confide in him - really confide in him. If she just had one person she could share her true feelings with, that would make it all easier to bear. But he was the Commander of the Inquisition, and she was the Herald of Andraste, and that was besides the fact that she was a mage and he was an ex-templar. Whatever fragile peace they had forged was more important for their cause than her wish for a friend. And there were certain boundaries to maintain, after all. A certain professionalism that was expected.

But he'd made her feel less alone, and for that, she was grateful. Perhaps friendship wouldn't be so much to ask.

She didn't realize the silence between them had lingered so long, but then he startled her by speaking. "I would tell you to enjoy your trip, but…"

"But it's hardly going to be a vacation," Kira finished for him, sighing. "It's not the way I would have chosen to visit the city, but I suppose it will be nice to see it, all the same. I've always heard that it's beautiful. Have you ever been?"

Cullen made a face. "I haven't had the pleasure," he said drily.

Kira nearly laughed out loud. It didn't surprise Kira in the least that the commander had no interest in the city. Everyone knew that the commander despised dealing with nobles, and Val Royeaux was full of them. "Is that sarcasm I hear, Commander?" she teased. "I didn't know you had it in you. Varric would be shocked."

Cullen groaned. "Maker's breath, what has he said?"

"Well," Kira said, leaning back on her hands nonchalantly, "Apparently you spend too much time with a serious expression on your face, and -"

"It's bad for my health," Cullen interrupted with a sigh. "So he's said."

"You are rather serious," Kira pointed out. It seemed that every time she saw him, he had a scowl on his face. She'd only seen him smile or heard him laugh a handful of times. Usually, she realized, when they were alone.

"It's my job to be serious, my lady."

"But you can't be serious all the time," she pointed out. "When I was a girl and I had a scowl on my face, my mother used to tell me, 'Be careful, or your face will get stuck like that!' I never believed her. Until I met you. Maybe she was onto something."

Cullen winced. "No, please, don't hold back to spare my feelings," he said dryly.

Kira chuckled. "I'm only teasing. It's just… nice to see you smile every once in a while." She wasn't sure why she'd said that, and she was suddenly glad for the darkness. It hid her blush.

Cullen didn't seem to know what to say to that. He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, and neither of them could seem to meet the other's eyes. Silence stretched between them. It was painfully awkward, and Kira could have kicked herself for ruining such a lovely conversation. Of course, just when she started to think that maybe she and Cullen could be friends, she would put her foot in her mouth and ruin it.

She had nearly decided to apologize and flee when Cullen spoke, so softly she almost didn't hear. "I will endeavor to smile more, my lady."

It surprised her, the simple vulnerability of the commander in that moment. She couldn't quite place her finger on the feeling, but she felt suddenly lighter and happier. Above all else, she was relieved. She hadn't ruined things after all. "I would like that," she replied, equally soft, smiling tentatively as he met her eyes. "But for now, I really should get some rest."

He smiled back, and something fluttered nervously in her chest. "Of course, my lady."

Maker, she must really be nervous about Val Royeaux. She was very reluctant to return to her cabin to try to sleep. "Good night, Commander," she said as she rose, her mouth suddenly dry.

"Good night, my lady. Sleep well."