Cullen woke covered in sweat, the dread of Kinloch hold gripped him. He felt the dark pull of demons filtering through from the fade. He hastily threw on some armor and grabbed his sword. Rushing out of his tower, he felt the pull by the stables. He came to a halt by the Templars Maeven had recruited. For there she was, her back to him, in the middle of the courtyard facing a demon of desire. With its twisted smirk it raised its hand and gently gestured for Maeven to approach. Maeven did nothing. Cullen moved around to see her face, it was grim and stony. Her mouth moved, and he caught fragments of the Chant of Light. A glint by her hands made him look at them, a gold piece on a chain dangled from her fingertips. The medallion she always wore, he realized. Cullen looked around the gathering crowd, her parents were there, looking grim and frightened. The demon laughed and his attention returned to it.
"Praying to the Maker? He hears you not. I, however, have. And I have come to give you what your heart desires most." It purred and with a flick of its wrist the mark on Maeven's palm flickered to life. "I see your deepest desire. All that I can bring, all that I can give you."
"Empty words demon." Maeven said evenly. "I have seen nothing."
"Because I have not shown you yet." The demon countered brightly. "See." She whispered seductively as a rift opened. But not a normal rift, as a voice filtered through.
"Maevi, Maevi! Tell me another story." The rift was now like a window, looking into the bedroom of a little boy.
A gasp from her mother, while her father darkened with rage. Her brother Lucan had moved to their side, his sword drawn and ready. Cullen stared at the Knight Captain of Ostwick. She was helmeted and he could not make out her features, but he saw her signal. Be ready, be wary, but do not strike.
Maeven had gone very still. Her voice echoed out of the fade, joyful and bright. "Alright, Davy. But only one." Young Maeven flopped on the bed on top of the boy, who laughingly pushed her off the bed entirely. There was a yelp as she tumbled off.
"One with Templars in it." The boy said looking excitedly over the edge of his bed.
"Templars again? You should just ask Ser Ruth and Ser Sagen." Maeven's head popped up and she folded her arms on the bed.
"I do, but they don't do the funny voices you do."
She gave a snort, resting her head on her arms. "No, the Order would probably come smashing down if Templars ever used funny voices for themselves."
"Then you can't tell them to do it! I'd never get to be a Templar if that happened." The boy said urgently.
"You want to be a Templar? But Lucan and Trig are already Templars." Maeven pouted.
"Yes, but I'm going to be Knight-Commander." The boy sat up proudly.
"Knight-Commander?" Maeven asked with raised eyebrows.
"Yes, and you can be the Grand-Enchanter!" He said excitedly.
"Grand-En … Davy, I'd be lucky to become Senior-Enchanter." She laughed.
"That's okay, I still want to be Knight-Commander, that way I can keep you safe." The boy said seriously.
"Oh Davy." Maeven flung her arms around the boy and hugged him tight. The boy yawned abruptly and Maeven got into bed with him, tucking him close to her side. A Templar slipped into the room, but the two were oblivious as Maeven began her story.
The scene faded out and the demon looked expectantly at Maeven.
"You conjured up a well treasured and beloved memory. Well done." She said sarcastically. "Just because I think of it often does not mean it is my heart's desire. Dig deeper, demon, if you desire to use me as your permanent entry into this world."
"Maker, what is she doing. Why aren't the Templars doing anything?" People muttered looking around at the unmoving Templars.
"Trust the Inquisitor." Cassandra said stoically.
The desire demon's face flickered briefly to show its displeasure, but quickly pasted on that fake innocent smile and tried again. This time the scene was radically different. The very air felt wrong. The bedroom was oppressively dark, the whole family was gathered. Everyone looked grave and exhausted. The brothers knelt a distance away, heads bowed in prayer. Their parents were further back by the fire, holding each other, a look of sorrowful resignation on their faces. Maeven's head laid on the bed beside a small pale hand that she clutched gently, but desperately. The only sound that filled the room was the crackle of the fire, and the shallow breath of the dying boy.
"Please Maker," Maeven's voice filled the courtyard. Though her image did not speak. "Please, not yet. Don't take him now. I will do anything you ask, anything you wish. But please don't take him."
The boy stirred. "Maevi?" He asked softly.
"I'm here, Davy. I'm here." She told him tearfully.
He looked at her with glazed eyes. He didn't have long. He jerkily reached under his pillow and drew out a gold medallion. The boy pressed it into her hands. "I don't think I'll become Knight-Commander." He told her sadly.
"You can be anything you want, Davy." Her voice cracked.
The boy only smiled, "No Abomi-Maevi. Promise?" He whispered.
She choked a broken laugh. "No Abomi-Maevi. I promise." She promised brokenly, pressing a kiss to his hand.
The boy smiled and closed his eyes.
Maeven snapped her wrist and the rift closed abruptly. The desire demon looked at her, eyes wide and terrified.
"It seems demon, you made a grave miscalculation." Maeve said looking sad and tired. "There is nothing you can offer me that will tempt me to stray from my word."
Cullen suddenly knew why the air felt wrong, it was filled with magic. Maeven's magic. An arc of lightning shot out from her and towards the demon. With a scream it crumbled to ash.
"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter." She said calmly to the ash. Turning to the Knight-Commander she continued. "Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just." She nodded to the Knight-Commander. One of the Templars moved to clear the ash, and stumbled back as sparks flew off his armor.
"Apologies, I need to be alone right now." She told everyone and no-one in particular, before leaving the area. The people parted before her like waves upon rocks.