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"It's not a matter for debate. There will be abominations among the mages, and we must be prepared!"

Brynn could hear the indignation behind the Commander's words as his voice rang sharply throughout the Chantry, echoing off the stone walls. He hadn't spoken to her directly since the night he had come calling at her door, the night before she left to confront the Magister, Alexius. The following morning he had not wished her luck, told her to be careful or given her any words of comfort before she rode off to what could easily have been, what very nearly was, her death. She drew a deep breath, inhaling slowly as she steeled herself against the harsh words he was bound to aim her way, but it did nothing to ease the nauseous bubbling of guilt in the pit of her stomach.

"If we rescind the offer an alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst," Josephine countered, her thick Antivan accent laced with frustration to match the Commander's.

His amber eyes alighted upon the Herald as she approached, and Brynn had to remind herself not to cringe or flinch away as he glared at her. The expression upon his face was so feral it was almost frightening. She hoped she had managed to school her own expression into one of neutrality despite the apprehension growing in the pit of her stomach, but, beneath the ferocity of Cullen's scrutiny, Brynn was beginning to feel more and more like a doe who had wandered into a den of wolves.

"What were you thinking turning mages loose with no oversight!? The veil is torn open!" he raged at her. Brynn took another calming breath. She understood why he was angry with her, although she felt he was allowing his Templar prejudices to get the better of him. Still, understanding his anger did not make it sting any less when directed at her.

"We need them to close the breach. It's not going to work if we make enemies of them," the Herald replied serenely, hoping a tranquil demeanor would work to assuage his fury.

"I know we need them for the breach, but they could do as much damage as the demons themselves! You were there, Seeker! Why didn't you intervene?" Cullen demanded, directing his foul temper at Cassandra now. It was all Brynn could do not to heave a sigh of relief that his anger wasn't exclusively directed at her.

"While I may not completely agree with the decision, I support it. The sole point of the Herald's mission was to gain the mages' aid, and that was accomplished," Cassandra remarked coolly. Brynn was relieved that the Seeker was not allowing the Commander's temper to rile her own.

"The voice of pragmatism speaks! And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments," Dorian interjected in a merrily sardonic voice, his dark eyebrows raised in amusement. He had been leaning somewhere against a wooden support beam, observing the altercation from the safety of the sidelines. Brynn had almost forgotten about his presence entirely.

"Closing the breach is all that matters," stated Cassandra firmly, her jaw set in determination. The expressions that rested upon both Leliana's and Josephine's faces told the Herald that they were in agreement with the Seeker, and after everything Brynn had seen in Redcliffe, she, too, had never agreed with Cassandra more.

"I got a taste of the consequences if we fail. Let's make sure we don't," the Herald remarked sounding much more insouciant than she truly felt. Truthfully, the whole ordeal had unsettled her much more than she was willing to admit. The horrors that her companions had been subjected to in that reality were unspeakable, but the worst part was not knowing Cullen's fate. Regardless of his feelings toward her and her decisions, something in Brynn cared for the man. Some small part of her dwelled upon him, wishing only for his good health and happiness at the very least.

"We will not fail," came the Seeker's confident reply. There was a conviction in her dark eyes that told of a victory they had yet to achieve.

x.X.x

Cullen could not recall a time in his life when he had ever felt as completely and utterly outraged as he did right now. He had managed to douse the flames of his fury with cold professionalism, at least outwardly, but inwardly he was still seething. He had been admittedly frustrated with the Herald for choosing to aid the mages instead of approaching the Templars, but a full blown alliance with the rebel mages was appalling! How in all of Thedas could she ever think such a thing was a good idea!?

He huffed angrily, as he slammed a marker down onto the tactical map he was stewing over, the beginnings of a headache stirring somewhere behind his eyes. If it wasn't for their susceptibility to demons in the fade, he would have no problem with mages, whatsoever. He probably would even have welcomed the Herald's alliance and the mages' assistance with open arms. But that wasn't the world they lived in. Allowing mages to roam freely so near to a tear in the veil was pure madness. The potential for possession was too great. Was he the only one who recognized how reckless this current course of action was?

The sound of a woman clearing her throat delicately snapped him out of his contemplations. His head whipped up from the map so quickly that his neck ached as he stared at the woman who had interrupted his thoughts. He had been so absorbed that he hadn't even heard the war room door open.

"Commander, I would like a moment of your time," came the familiar softness of an Orlesian accent. He stared at Leliana for a minute before inclining his head slightly to indicate that he was listening. "It is about the Herald. You were becoming...close...before this ordeal, no?"

"We are friendly, yes," he grunted, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. What was Leliana getting at, exactly?

"I see. Has she told you much about her family?" the spymaster pressed on, ignoring Cullen's wary glare. He watched as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other as though uncomfortable. As usual, her features held no hint of emotion, but it was clear that something was weighing heavily upon her mind.

"Not much. I know she isn't close with them," he replied cautiously. Something similar to recognition flashed behind Leliana's blue eyes for a moment as she considered his words.

"No, well, she wouldn't be, would she?" she murmured, almost as though she was speaking to herself. The statement confused him.

"What are you on about?" the Commander demanded. The spymaster handed him a folded piece of worn, yellowed parchment. He gave her a questioning look as he took it from her. "What is this?"

"Read it."

Taking care with the delicate parchment, he unfolded it. It was a letter addressed to Josephine and signed by Bann Trevelyan. It was a letter from the Lady Trevelyan's father. His eyes followed the slanting words scrawled across the page with sudden interest.

Lady Montilyet,

I am not certain where I should begin. I must admit my surprise at hearing of my youngest daughter's involvement in your Inquisition, especially filling the role of Andraste's Herald. It has been eleven long years since I laid eyes upon my daughter, and I had begun to doubt whether or not she still lived.

My daughter has always been a difficult child who never relished her obligations to the Chantry or the Maker. She spent her time in Ostwick blaspheming the Maker and consorting with blood mages. Unfortunately, the christening of one so faithless as Brynn as the Herald of Andraste only lends credence to the Chantry's proclamation that yours is a heretical movement, one with which the Trevelyans can have no association.

There is another matter about my daughter that I must share with you. She is a wanted criminal in Ostwick, whom we have publicly disavowed, but the stain that has been left upon our family's honor cannot be removed until she has answered for her crimes. She was found guilty of attempting to assist a known blood mage in an escape from Ostwick's Circle Tower and, therefore, sentenced to death. Surely you would not want such a person to remain part of your Inquisition, if you truly wish to do the good you claim to be doing. I implore you to arrest her and send her back to Ostwick immediately to face the penalty for the crimes she has committed.

I hope that you and your family have remained well since we saw each other last, and I wish you all the best.

Respectfully,

Bann Trevelyan

Cullen stared openly at the letter, his jaw hanging open in disbelief. Could any of this be true? In some ways it made perfect sense. It explained why the Lady Trevelyan would run away from home at such a young age and her unusually sympathetic attitude toward the plight of the mages. However, Cullen could not help but take issue with the idea that Brynn would knowingly associate with blood mages. He couldn't imagine that she was tolerant of such iniquity.

"Have your agents looked into this? Tell me you have more information than...this," Cullen enjoined, giving the letter a look of utmost disgust.

"My agents have determined that the mage our Herald was aiding in an escape was her own sister. They have not, however, been able to find any proof that she was a blood mage beyond the unfounded accusations of a disgraced Knight-Captain. A young Templar was implicated in our Lady Trevelyan's escape. He was not so lucky in escaping his fate. They deprived him of lyrium and tortured him for weeks trying to discern our Herald's whereabouts. Even crazed from torment and lyrium withdrawal, he maintained that he was only saving the life of an innocent girl."

"I see," he replied, feeling somewhat relieved by this news. In Kirkwall, he had seen cases of innocent mages who were accused of crimes they did not commit by Templars using the common prejudices against mages to their advantage to try and hide their own unsavory behaviors, even if he did not recognize the situations for what they were at the time. Ostwick was probably no different. If the Lady Trevelyan's sister was one such victim, there was a lot about the woman that would finally make sense to him.

"You do see the problem, Commander?" Leliana inquired, looking increasingly agitated from beneath her hood. "If any of this gets out, true or not, it could easily be used to discredit the Inquisition. Josephine and I are both at a loss as to how we should reply to the Bann. We cannot send the Herald back to Ostwick, but Bann Trevelyan will use this information against us if we do not."

"You're certain of this intention?"

"He does not say it outright, but the threat is there," Leliana sighed, nodding. He watched as strands of fiery red hair fell into her eyes at the movement.

"So, why show me? What is it you expect me to do about any of this?" Cullen asked, suddenly apprehensive at the look on Leliana's face.

"You said you were...friendly...with the Herald? Show her this letter. Find out all you can. The more I know, the better prepared the Inquisition will be against such an accusation."

"Why me? If you need the information, why don't you interrogate her?" he inquired irritably. He raked a hand through his blonde curls in agitation, not certain he was quite ready to speak to the Herald just yet.

"Because coming from me, it would be an interrogation. But, if you approach her, it gives her the chance to confide in a friend," Leliana answered, a knowing smile playing about her lips. He bit back the frustrated huff threatening to escape from between his lips. The woman was a master manipulator.

"Fine. I'll speak to her after dinner."

x.X.x

The Herald was not at dinner, something that, Cullen decided, had worked out in his favor. Instead of sitting down at the table to eat with his lieutenants, he grabbed two steaming bowls full of whatever sort of stew was being served for the day and made his way toward the Herald's quarters. As he approached the door, he could clearly hear a man's laughter sounding from inside.

He froze, listening to the sound for a moment, icy tendrils of jealousy clutching at his stomach unexpectedly. The feeling caught him by surprise. Lady Trevelyan was an attractive woman, and he certainly found her interesting enough, if somewhat infuriating, but he was certain his attraction was nothing more than a passing fancy. Plus he had never laughed with her the way she was laughing with whoever was currently visiting. Whenever she and Cullen conversed about anything unrelated to the Inquisition, it seemed they spent more of their time avoiding uncomfortable subjects regarding their lives before the Inquisition and disagreeing with one another. Even now, he was upset with her about the mages. Nevertheless, he felt positively envious of whoever it was basking contentedly in the warmth of the Herald's presence, while he stood outside her door feeling suddenly foolish.

Wondering what exactly he was going to do with an extra bowl of dinner, Cullen turned away from the door, right as it opened and someone strode out. He had narrowly avoided a collision that would have spilled stew all down his front with the Tevinter mage, Dorian. He felt his insides roil with another wave of jealousy at the man's sudden appearance.

"I was just leaving, Commander. The lady is all yours," he said giving a small bow with an arrogant flourish of his hand. "It would seem you have another visitor," the mage called out into the open doorway behind him, giving Cullen a smug smirk as he leaned back against the door to hold it open. Cullen continued to stand uncomfortably outside the hut as he waited for an invitation, being watched all the while by the pompous Tevinter.

"Commander!" Lady Trevelyan gasped as she spotted Cullen standing outside her doorway. "I...wasn't expecting you. Please, come in."

He did not hesitate squeeze his way past the man standing at the door, eager to be away from any other prying eyes, as the mage's were bad enough. Once he was standing inside the almost oppressive warmth of the Herald's quarters, Cullen heard the door creak closed behind him, signaling Dorian's departure. Wordlessly, he offered the Herald one of the steaming bowls in his hands, which she took with a questioning look. She was dressed down in a form-fitting tunic and linen pants, every curve of her body clearly outlined by the tight clothing. He couldn't keep his eyes from raking over her form hungrily, mouth going dry as they followed every dip and swell of her body. Mercifully, Lady Trevelyan didn't seem to notice his indecorous lapse of self-control.

"Another apology?" she inquired, gesturing for him to sit at the cluttered desk across from her bed. "I see you brought some for yourself this time."

"I would first need to have done something to apologize for," he replied curtly, taking the seat she had gestured toward. Her grey eyes lit up with something akin to amusement at his words, seemingly sparkling in the glowing light of the fire.

"Good! Then you understand my position on the matter as well," she retorted, taking her own seat at the small table the foot of her bed. The corners of her mouth were slightly upturned as she regarded him with interest. She seemed to be challenging him to discuss her alliance with the mages further, but Cullen knew better than to take the bait. He changed tack instead.

"I see that you and the Tevinter are becoming fast friends," he remarked casually, examining the threads that held together the fingers of his gloves with an unusual amount of interest. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, but she gave no hint that the subject discomfited her.

"Well, there's something about being displaced in time that just brings people closer together, I suppose," she declared airily, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Why? Are you jealous?"

For a moment, the crackling of the fire in the hearth was the only sound in the room. Then, in spite of himself, Cullen felt his face split into a grin at her teasing. A soft chuckle sounded from somewhere in his chest.

"Of that puffed up dandy?" he exclaimed incredulously, mock offense crossing his features. He watched her eyebrows shoot up her forehead in surprise, before a grin to match his made its way onto her face.

"He is a bit foppish, isn't he?" she giggled, before shooting the Commander a sly look. "Although...You're awfully dashing in that armor of yours. I'm sure that wasn't by accident. And I don't think your hair lays that way all on its own."

"Nevermind my hair. Did you just call me dashing?" he asked her teasingly, though he was genuinely interested in her answer. Her cheeks went slightly pink as she pressed her full lips together in a coy smile.

"I recall someone referring to me as…What was it, again?...Pretty, if I recall correctly, in a previous conversation. I just thought I'd return the compliment," she teased in return. Her reminder of his slip up set the tips of his ears burning. "So did you come to discuss the breach? I thought we decided to hold the war council tomorrow?"

"Ah...No, that's...not why I am here," he mumbled, suddenly feeling awkward. All previous mirth was now gone from his expression. He felt uneasy as he retrieved the letter Leliana had given him from a pocket. The Herald tensed immediately at his change in demeanor,. "Lady Montilyet received this missive a few days ago, and, well...It's worthy of your consideration."

He rose from his seat and handed it over to her. By the time he had taken his seat once more, her eyes were scanning the page rapidly. There was no expression, not even a flicker of emotion, on her face as she read the words scrawled upon the parchment.

"It would seem Lady Montilyet wrote my family even after I told her that no good would come of it. I'm assuming you've read this?" she asked him. Her tone was unexpectedly sedate, almost disquietingly so. He nodded his reply. "And now you have questions you would like me to answer."

"Leliana had her agents look into the veracity of this letter's claims."

"So I am being investigated by the Inquisition without any knowledge of the situation or chance to defend myself against such claims?" queried Brynn, her voice still unnervingly calm. He had expected her to react with anger or fear, possibly even shame, but he had never anticipated cold detachment. It was almost as though she had been expecting to be approached on the subject.

"I had no idea such a letter had been received until earlier today. I am sorry that it was kept from you. I had no say in the matter."

"What will you do with me, now that you've learned the truth?"

Her voice was monotonous as she asked the question, grey eyes fixed upon the half eaten bowl of stew in front of her. The letter lay discarded, half folded beside the bowl. He stared at her in open-mouthed astonishment.

"The truth!?" Cullen spluttered, sounding completely aghast. This confession was the very last thing he expected from her. "Maker's breath! Are you saying...it's true? Everything in the letter?"

"I have no proof that it isn't, so it doesn't really matter, does it?" she replied, with a gasping, almost hysterical laugh. She gave him a bitter smile, despite the tears that were shining in the corner of her eyes.

"The way I understood it, and you can correct me if I am wrong, was that you were a doting little sister, a child, trying to rescue her elder sister from whatever injustices she was being subjected to in the Circle."

The Herald's eyes went wide, the smile completely gone from her face. She peered at him as though she had never actually seen him before now, before croaking, "How? How would you…?"

"I was a Templar once," he answered simply, giving a small shrug. "Having a healthy amount of respect for the potential dangers associated with magic does not mean that I am blind to the abuses to which mages are often subjected. Neither mages nor Templars are wholly bad or good. Tell me about your sister. What was her name?"

"Bronwyn. I was five when she was taken to the Tower. She was defending me against one of my brothers. He was bullying me. They always did that. But, Bronwyn always made them stop. She yelled and shook her finger at him, told him to freeze right there, and he did. Really did! Ice and everything. He was blue and shivering for an hour. I thought it was my fault when they took her away. I cried to my father and told him the blame was mine. I told him the Templars should take me away instead. He just shook his head and told me that I would understand in time.

My mother visited Bronwyn in the Tower as often as she could. She even took me along with her sometimes. Even when she didn't, I would send letters, and she would write back. I loved my sister, so much. Missed her, so much. I thought about joining the Order, just so I could see her more often, but when my brother Broghan took his vows, they sent him away to the White Spire. It was a conflict of interest for him to oversee the mages in Ostwick, as his views could be skewed by familial regard for his sister, they said. So I contented myself with visiting as often as was possible, instead, glad for the opportunity just to see her at all. It was the only time I was ever grateful for my status as a noble," she said with a mirthless titter, smiling to herself softly as her eyes focused past their surroundings to whatever memory she was reliving. It seemed that now she had started talking, she couldn't stop. Cullen remained perfectly still and silent as he listened, afraid that any interruption would cause the Herald to rethink sharing the rest of her story with him.

"I was fourteen before I started visiting my sister, a fully harrowed mage by this point, without my mother's oversight. I was the only one of my siblings who did. I spent so much of my time in the Tower that I befriended a young Templar, Ser Declan. He was new to the Tower when we met, eighteen and had just taken his vows. He'd deliver letters to my sister on the days she could not manage to visit with me. Ser Declan was infatuated with me, and I with him, though we both knew there was nothing to be done about it. It was a match my parents would never approve as he had no title. That did not stop him from spending every spare moment of his time with me. We often met outside the tower to wander Ostwick's countryside, arm in arm.

On one such day, shortly after my fifteenth birthday, when we were supposed to meet, he came rushing toward me, his face pale, hands shaking. I asked him what was wrong, and he simply said, 'Your sister. They're going to make her tranquil.' I was horrified, of course. She was a harrowed mage. How could the Templars even think of doing something like that? According to Declan, she had made accusations against one of the Knight-Captains for taking liberties with her person that she did not willingly offer him. The Templar retaliated against these accusations by making some of his own. He claimed she was a blood mage who was trying to discredit him, before he could provide sufficient evidence of her crimes. My sister was devout Andrastian. She would never have practiced something as wicked as blood magic! But it didn't matter. Without proof of her guilt, an execution could not be justified, so the Knight-Commander decided tranquility was the next best option.

Because she was a Trevelyan, he wrote to my father first, asking him to support the decision, before the Rite of Tranquility was performed. I begged my father to visit the Circle and reason with the Knight-Commander. He knew Bronwyn, had witnessed her devotion the the Maker, knew she would never dabble in blood magic. Instead he told me that she had been away from his influence for too long, if the Templars had decided tranquility was the right course of action, he was in agreement. 'Would you stand by and allow an uprising of blood mages as they did in Ferelden?' he asked me coldly.

So I devised a plan to help Bronwyn escape from the Tower, before they could perform the Rite. We were caught. She was," Brynn gave a great shuddering breath before she continued on, "executed on the spot, and I was arrested, tried and sentenced to death, myself. Declan helped me to breakout of the dungeon. He told me to flee to Kirkwall, that he would meet me there when he was able. We were going to run to Orlais together, to find my brother, Broghan, who had been promoted to Knight-Captain some time before all this, and tell him what had happened in Ostwick. It was the only thing we could think to do. So I ran to Kirkwall. I waited there a year for Declan, barely surviving, living in between Darktown and Lowtown and working at places of ill repute. After that year passed, I could not bring myself to stay in Kirkwall any longer. I moved on to Nevarra, working my way to Orlais and continuing on with Declan's plan by myself, wondering all the while why he never came for me. I still do not know what has become of him."

She was weeping soundlessly, her eyes focused on her lap as her shoulders trembled slightly. Cullen was uncertain what he should say or do as he watched the tears drip onto her knees. There was no doubt in his mind that Lady Trevelyan was telling the truth. The woman sitting across the room from him had so obviously lost everything she had ever held dear, and at such a young age. And now, she was embroiled in a quest that could cost her the very last thing she had left to lose, her life, as there was no possible way to know how closing the breach would affect her.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Commander," she hiccuped softly as her crying subsided, wiping at her red-rimmed eyes in embarrassment. Any anger he still felt toward her had dissipated completely, to be replaced with feelings of tender compassion. The overwhelming urge to comfort her in some manner seemed to course through him, though he resisted the instinct. "I've...never told anyone any of...this. But I knew, once I joined the Inquisition, that I wouldn't be able to hide from it much longer."

"There is nothing for you to apologize for, my lady. I am...honored...that you would choose to place your confidence in me," he murmured gently, still watching her intently. Even with swollen eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, she was a beautiful woman. He found himself longing to wipe away the drops still lingering, dew-like, upon her sun-kissed cheeks, to run his thumb across the swell of her cheekbones. Instead he decided to put her mind at ease the only way he knew how. "Your young Templar, Ser Declan, you said? It was discovered that he had a hand in your escape. He was also sentenced to death. In the weeks before his execution, he refused to give away anything of your whereabouts and maintained your innocence even under extreme duress. He did not abandon you by choice."

A look of horror crossed her delicate features, though it was fleeting, and an oppressive silence settled between them. At long last, she spoke. "I was afraid he had been found out. Thank you for telling is some small measure of comfort in the knowledge." She paused, gazing at him blankly for a moment. "I'm sorry, Commander, but I think I would like to be alone right now."

"I understand," he replied, rising immediately to leave. The Herald rose from her seat as well and led him to the door, but instead of pulling it open for him, she paused, standing in his way. She was close enough that Cullen could smell the faint, flowery scent of her sandy brown hair as he inhaled. He wondered absently if those wavy locks were as soft as they looked.

"Cullen?" Brynn whispered, her eyes flitting hesitantly back and forth between his own as he stared down at her. Before he realized what was happening, her small hand was braced against the top of his breastplate for balance as stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his stubbled cheek. "Thank you."

With that soft utterance, she pulled the door opened for him, and Cullen stumbled out into the crisp evening air feeling slightly dazed by the night's events. His fingers were pressed to the still tingling spot on his face where her lips had been. He fought to contain the smile that was threatening to plaster itself all over his face, knew that it wasn't appropriate considering all that he had learned, but found he just could not help himself.