2.

The noise from downstairs woke him up. Valmyrion's eyes flew open and he sat up, looking around the dark room. As the events of the previous night slowly came back to him, the Inquisitor cracked his knuckles, noticing that the left glove was missing. For a while Lavellan just sat there, staring at his mutilated palm, where green strains of light were slowly pulsating under his skin. The laughter and the music from downstairs were getting louder and more frantic and so Valmyrion got out of bed, feeling every muscle protesting against such a feat. He opened the door and was greeted with a smell of pig roast, wine and sweat - the heart of the tavern. A familiar song drifted in the air, one of the many sang by the bard in Haven's tavern. Seeing that the song made it out, hopefully so did the creator. As soon as Lavellan got down the stairs, silence fell across the big room and everyone's head turned in his direction. Not sure how to act, the Inquisitor gave his most charming smile, meanwhile desperately trying to spot Solas in any of the dark corners the elf usually fancied so much.

"All hail the Herald of Andraste!"

A shrill cheer broke the silence, sending the patrons into a happy frenzy. Valmyrion walked through the room, people petting him on the shoulders and, occasionally, on the butt. Eventually he found Solas, sitting away from the crowd and visibly sulking.

"I'm listening."

Solas took a deep breath and shot an angry stare at Lavellan, who had settled down on the other side of the table with a plate of food he just got from someone.

"This is what I meant when I asked you to avoid rifts."

"You looked quite relieved I did not listen."

"I did not wish to see these people dead any more than you did," Solas looked straight into Lavellan's eyes, making the Inquisitor shift in his seat uncomfortably. "But it was the necessity, the lesser evil. Whatever happens now - is a direct consequence of your decision. I hope you are prepared to see it through."

Lavellan said nothing and pushed his plate towards the middle, inviting Solas to eat as well. Ultimately, the elf was right and Valmyrion did mess up their plan to stay hidden. On the other hand, it was but a tavern by the side of the road and it was hard to imagine news would spread quickly enough. But, eventually, they would. And once news reached Redcliffe, they might as well reach the ears of the Elder One. Lavellan bit his lip, irritated with himself. The Anchor felt that and shot an angry spark up the Inquisitor's arm.

"Kaffas," he mumbled and then grinned. First thing Dorian did, when his amatus expressed interest in learning some basic Tevene, was to teach Valmyrion the many curse words his native language had to offer.

"As if you know what you are talking about." he grumbled, staring at the table.

Solas straightened his back and smiled, but it did not reach his eyes - a trait Lavellan noticed a while ago. Back when they just met, Solas smiled a lot in that calm and polite manner of his but even then the eyes always stayed the same - distant and sad.

"You are young, Inquisitor, but through the course of our lives we eventually come across a situation that offers us a choice that we have to make, unpleasant as it is."

"There is always a way out, Solas."

"Only naïve think that way," the elf shook his head and reached out for a piece of bread. "Is this your way out? You chose to save a handful of people, possibly damning the rest of the world."

"This conversation is going nowhere." Lavellan abruptly stood up, staring angrily at his companion. "I admitted you have a point. But what's done, is done. Now, if you excuse me."

Valmyrion marched out and slammed the tavern door behind him, regretting it a moment later. Behaving like a child did nobody any favours, but Solas was not the type of person to keep silent when things took an undesirable direction. Once again, the Inquisitor caught himself thinking of Dorian. For all the vain and self-absorbed behaviour the Tevinter displayed, he also was a good listener even though back at Haven Lavellan had little to complain about, save Chancellor Roderick giving him a major stink eye. Now, when Dorian's reassuring embrace would be ever so welcome, Valmyrion found himself alone, with no-one to turn to. It was cold outside and the Inquisitor shivered, watching puffs of smoke leaving the tavern's chimney.

He was about to go back inside when Valmyrion heard something. The Dalish were much more in tune with their surroundings then the humans or the city elves. Even being away from the forest and the clan, the instincts stayed strong, giving the elves higher survival rate than their counterparts at the alienages. Lavellan took a few steps away from the tavern and listened to the night. Moments ago there had been bugs buzzing in the distance and critters shuffling in the grass. Now there was nothing but silence. The next moment he was walking through the door towards Solas.

"Something is coming, the air is dead. We have to get the people out of here."

"And go where?"

"Does not matter. Away from here," Valmyrion clenched his fists and climbed onto the table. No one paid him attention and so he clapped his hands, watching Solas disappearing behind the door. "People, this area is not safe, you have to go the woods immediately."

"I think that rift hit the Herald pretty hard.." whispered someone not far way.

"By rift you mean ale, mate."

"Please, put your trust in me. It is dangerous to stay here much longer." Lavellan tried really hard to ignore stinging comments, he fully realised how weird and sudden it sounded. For better or for worse the moment the Inquisitor opened his mouth again, a burning arrow broke the window and set one of the drapes on fire. That alone was the reason enough for people to jump up and dash madly towards the exit. Just as Valmyrion was ready to jump off the table, someone rammed into him, making the elf loose his balance and fall, hitting his forehead on one of the chairs. The world spun out of focus and went black.

The heat on his face and the screaming outside. Lavellan lifted his head and groaned as it pounded like a fine Avvar drum.

"Inquisitor!" the door flew open as Solas ran towards him."We have to get out of here, the Red Templars are outside and they are..."

Solas' last words were drowned by a large crack as one of the burning beams gave in and fell on the floor, spewing charred splinters all over the place. Coughing, they got out of the building, moments before the rest of the ceiling came crashing down. Valmyrion gripped his staff and looked around, trying to assess the situation and stop his head from hurting. People everywhere, running and screaming and a handful of Red Templars trying to herd them in one place, like some sort of cattle.

"Inquisitor, they are distracted, we have to go! "

"Solas are you insane? We can't leave these people!"

"For once, listen to me! If you perish, so does the Anchor and any hope to stand against the Elder One! How many times do I need to repeat this!?"

"I am not a thing to keep safe so that you can flail me at the Elder One when it suits you!"

Lavellan spun on his heels and sped towards the mass of struggling bodies ahead. Soon enough he singled out the figure standing away from the massacre , leaning on the shield and observing. It must have been the leader and the truth was, that if you take out the head, you cripple the body. Hiding in the shadows, the Inquisitor circled around the templar and as he found himself behind enemy's back, he cast a fire spell. But the templar was quick. In one fast motion the man spun around and used his shield to deflect the incoming spell. As he straightened up, the light of the dying spell fell on his face, making Valmyrion gasp and step backwards.

"C... Cullen!"

The Commander was dressed in templar armor with a red sword painted on the breastplate. The left part of the sleeve was completely removed, exposing a growth of red lyrium that looked like a fancy epaulet, would it not be protruding directly from Cullen's shoulder. His skin was pale, in the light of the moon it looked almost white, with red veins dimly pulsating underneath it, on the left side of his face. His eyes, once brown in colour, were now burning like two coals. And he looked as surprised as Valmyrion was.

"You... are alive?!"

What happened next was completely unexpected and, of course, Solas was not around to see Lavellan's self-preservation instinct finally kicking in. With an almost animalistic growl, Cullen grabbed his sword and launched at the Inquisitor.

"You filthy son of a whore! I saw you die ! How can you be here?!"

Valmyrion ducked and barely avoided the blade. A strand of black hair fell on the ground.

"You, maleficarum... Parasite! I sacrificed so much to stop you and yet here you are !"

He swung his sword, making Lavellan jump backwards, stumble and almost fall on the ground. Nothing that Cullen said made any sense. Valmyrion was so stumped , all he could do is try to avoid the attacks.

"Cullen, you are making no sense! I am not a blood mage..."

"So said every filth I've ever met! I should have never trusted a mage!"

Another blind swing and Cullen's sword got wedged in the trunk of the tree the elf was covering behind. As the templar struggled to take it out, Lavellan rolled out of cover and started running as fast as he could, eyes wide open in disbelief and shock, Cullen's words echoing behind him.

"Run fast, Inquisitor. I will find you and you will answer for everything you did."