The mornings in Skyhold were always clear and bright, and most of the time, brought with them a renewed sense of purpose and motivation, and mental clarity. Hadiza lay in bed, barely awake, but feeling absolutely unmotivated to leave. She heard the shuffling of papers at her back where her desk was, heard the creak of leather of the high-backed chair, and then she smelled the heady scent of a well-cooked meal. Groaning, she stretched, languorous and reluctant, feeling her spine crack its lower half and adjust, curling her toes into the cool sheets. Then, she sat up. Of course Cullen was already up and dressed, the man couldn't even be convinced to stay in bed in the mornings for sex save for on the rare occasions she roused before him.

The thought should have thrilled her. She should have gone to him while he was looking over reports and organizing her messy desk. She should have distracted him, climbing into his lap, reaching between them to—

The memory came to her in a barrage of sensations. Instead of Cullen it was Samson. She was clinging to him and he was holding her up, his mouth sealed over hers, his tongue in her mouth, his fingers tangled in her damp hair. She took the memory into the realm of fantasy, imagining what hard usage those blade-ready hands promised. Her breasts began to ache at the possibility, her nipples hardening beneath her blouse, and each movement sent a bolt of involuntary desire straight to her cunt, which felt tight and aching, longing to be filled. The thought of that man should not have made her so slick but she felt it, her nether-lips sliding together, knowing what she craved—whom she craved.

"Hadiza?" Cullen's voice sounded from the desk and she looked over her shoulder at him. She should have been riding his face, his cock, or his hand…anything. Maker! Maybe if she convinced him to fuck her right there on the desk the desire would abate, but she knew better. She knew herself better than Cullen did. She knew her desires ran deep, and some even dark. She couldn't coax him to please her in ways that would make him uncomfortable.

But she could try.

"I was thinking…" Hadiza murmured, running her fingertips along her waist, "…why don't you come here?"

Cullen looked up.

"You know if I come there I'll have to…Hadiza!" She took off her blouse, tossed it over to him as she climbed out of bed to stalk toward the desk. Cullen still had his quill in his hand, and was staring at her. Hadiza smirked, making her way between him and her desk.

"Hadiza, what are you…?"

"Have you had breakfast yet, Commander?" She asked, and promptly sat on the desk, propping her feet up on the arms of the chair so that her thighs were parted directly in front of him. If there was anything Cullen was good at, it was this. Perhaps he could lap the desire from her loins and clear her head. She saw his eyes darken with desire—he was considering it. His gloved hands settled gently on her thighs.

"I had a light breakfast this morning, Inquisitor," he replied huskily, "but if you wish to spoil me with sweets…" His head turned, kissing the inside of her knee. Hadiza bit her lip. This was what she liked and Cullen was just getting his mouth on her sex when there was a knock on the bedroom door. A muffled voice called for the Commander.

Andraste preserve me, are you fucking serious? Hadiza thought angrily as Cullen pulled his mouth away from her cunt, looking up at her apologetically. Hadiza took a deep breath, considered it, and then shut her legs.

"Go handle your duties, Commander. I'll see you later." She muttered. Cullen smiled apologetically again and gently untangled himself, pushing the chair back and heading toward the door. By the time he got there his cock would be soft and Hadiza would be too angry to give a shit. She was still wet and aching and throbbing with desire.

Samson would have finished her off right then and there, duties be damned.

The thought shocked her into scrambling to get dressed and throwing herself into her work for the day.

He didn't want to dream about fucking her, so naturally his brain took that as him wanting to dream about fucking her. Samson woke up from the intensely erotic fantasy, painfully hard and throbbing. In this, he was grateful for the privacy. He had no shame taking himself in hand, stroking himself to the thought of Hadiza's pretty mouth sealed around his cock, those quicksilver eyes filled with tears as she choked him down, or those lovely breasts bouncing in his face as she rode him, or how she might look and sound when he was mouthing her cunt. He had no problem summoning these erotic visions of her sweat-slick skin, her back arched, ass in the air, waiting to receive him. And he knew—he just knew without having to ask, that Hadiza was a woman who loved to be fucked.

By the time he'd gotten to the part of the fantasy where he'd bent her in half, trying to fuck her until she felt him in her damned chest, he came, growling and frustrated, but relieved. Afterward, it was only a matter of cleaning himself up and freshening up for the day. His workload was relatively light compared to most days, and with his focus he managed to finish inventory and tending to the mounts in almost half the time as before. He'd just had a lyrium dosage, which took the edge off, and even though he knew the red lyrium was encroaching slowly, he felt healthier than he had in months.

When he spotted Hadiza on the battlements he hid a smile. The woman looked beautiful in sunlight, as if she were born in it, the wind in her hair, and a smile on her face. She looked like hope made flesh and Samson sighed remembering how he'd envisioned her just this morning.

"I'd keep my eyes on the ground if I were you," Master Dennet's voice cut into the moment with all the subtlety of a warhammer, "she spared your life, but I wouldn't look for much more than that." Samson smirked, self-assured in the knowledge that Master Dennet had no idea just what the Inquisitor was like behind closed doors.

"A man can't look at a beautiful woman, now?" He asked in mock indignation, "Gonna bind my eyes up and clap me in chains for admiring the woman who bested me in a duel?" At that, Master Dennet snorted.

"If it'll get you to focus on the task at hand, I may just request it." The old man grinned and Samson chuckled. When he looked back up at the battlements, Hadiza was gone.

"Hadiza what the fuck were you thinking?" Aja hissed half from laughter and the other half from disbelief. The two women sat on her bed, having been freshly bathed from a recent spar and Aja had a lap full of shirts. Hadiza glanced down.

"Blackwall's?" She inquired, when Aja nodded, reaching for the small sewing kit she kept on hand, Hadiza sighed, "I don't know. I was a wreck when I asked him. After the news I got during my war council I just…I got desperate. I just want to finish this bullshit with Corypheus and move on with my life."

Aja was busy with a seam ripper, idly tearing the seams around the waist of the shirt, and she smiled to herself at Hadiza's lament.

"And he wouldn't let you use his blood to scry with? Even just a few drops?" Aja asked. Hadiza shook her head.

"It's…he said…he said he's never known a blood mage who didn't go crazy and he didn't want to see me end up like that. Told me he didn't want me corrupting my soul for this." At that, Aja looked up, one brow perked in obvious curiosity. Hadiza leaned back, grabbing one of the decorative embroidered pillows to pick at. Aja inspected her handiwork and took up the needle and thread, beginning to sew.

"So you like him." Aja said bluntly and Hadiza blanched.

"What? Aja, what? No, I just…I wasn't expecting him to take my well-being into consideration is all." She muttered. Aja snorted.

"And he likes you." She continued as if Hadiza hadn't thrown up a transparent denial of such a fact. Hadiza's cheeks were on fire, remembering the kiss, the way Samson held her steady, fingers in her hair, pulling her head back to kiss along her throat.

"I…I suppose," she hazarded slowly, "but I did spare his life and offer him a chance at redeeming himself." At that, Aja made a hissing sound by sucking on her teeth. It was a Rivaini habit, and their mother may have been an imperious noblewoman, but her Rivaini mannerisms never truly left her. It was the universal sign of someone sensing the most high-end bullshit.

"I've seen the way he looks at you, sometimes, when we're out in the training yard," Aja said with a laugh, "I doubt that's the kind of look one gives to their savior. Definitely looked at you like he wanted to devour you whole."

"Aja, please!" Aja stitched a seam with ruthless efficiency, shrugging her shoulders with a grin.

"I call it like I see it, Diza. The man is besotted," she set down the shirt, fixing her sister with a knowing look, "and I think, on some level, so are you. I hope you're not falling for him out of pity."

"No." Hadiza said quickly, and then swore softly at Aja's smug smirk, "Damnit, Aja. No, it's not pity. It's…it's complicated. I don't even know if there is anything there to consider. He's…he's been through a lot." Hadiza looked down, suddenly ashamed. Her sister would take their secrets to the grave if need be, but it didn't do much to alleviate the guilt.

"And Cullen?" Aja asked the question that one should not have asked and Hadiza looked up sharply, meeting her sister's steady gaze. She swallowed hard.

"I love him, Aja," she whispered, "I love Cullen dearly…but I'm…" She wouldn't say it. Aja wouldn't either. It was something Hadiza would have to admit on her own with no one to hold her hand. If she didn't, she'd make herself miserable or break two hearts. Aja watched her with the same quiet gravity that seemed to be a trait in all three of the Trevelyan sisters.

"I love him, but…" Hadiza felt tears blur her vision as it dawned on her what she was about to say, "…When I'm with him, I'm content, I'm happy. I feel safe and he's steady and honest. Maker! He's so tender with me and just…but I can't be myself with him. Not the mage part of me, anyway. He doesn't get excited when I discuss magical theories. He flinches when I charge a spell. Aja, I love him but I'm not in love with him."

The words eddied in the air, dropping like a guillotine. Aja tilted her head.

"And Samson?"

Hadiza felt something swell in her chest at the sound of his name and all the words she might have said bottled up in her throat.

"I see," Aja said with a wry smile, "you haven't fucked him, have you?"

"Aja! I've more propriety than that! Maker's sodding breath!" Hadiza's anger momentarily flared then died.

"No, we haven't done anything inappropriate." Hadiza purposely neglected to mention the kiss; she had enough stress, "But when I'm with him and we're poring over books and scrolls I feel…giddy. When I'm scrying and he's standing watch over me, I feel safer than I ever have in my entire life. He's honest too, in a way that Cullen isn't, and he doesn't mind my magic, Aja. In fact, he enjoys it."

Aja made a noise of agreement and returned to her sewing. Hadiza sighed. Now that she'd put the nail in the coffin of her relationship with Cullen, she was at a crossroads.

"What do I do? Andraste preserve me I tried to fuck Cullen this morning and we were interrupted. But the whole time I was thinking of how Samson wouldn't have cared. Aja, I'm…what the fuck is wrong with me?" Hadiza was distressed clearly, but Aja erupted into peals of laughter. Hadiza chucked the pillow at her sister, which made the woman laugh harder.

"So you're in love, Hadiza, so what? Break it off with Cullen. Tell him that you don't feel like the relationship you have is healthy or…" Aja finished off her stitching and cut the thread with a pair of sewing shears, "…stop spending so much time with Samson and forget about him."

"I can't!" Hadiza whined, falling onto her back with a growl.

"Then do the first thing I mentioned. Cullen's a good man, Hadiza, he at least deserves the truth."

"He's going to hate me." Hadiza mumbled from beneath a pillow, "He's going to hate me for the rest of his and my natural life. Why did Samson have to be so…?"

"Intriguing? Smart? Sympathetic? Hadiza I don't think we choose who we fall for anymore than we can choose what kind of weather we want. You and Cullen have a good thing, but he isn't making you burn up in the morning with the desire to sit on his cock."

"Aja!"

"I'm serious. When's the last time the two of you fucked clear through the afternoon?"

Hadiza was silent. Cullen had too much work to even take on such a task. They'd had sex in the mornings, to be sure, but Cullen had a keen sense of duty and didn't stay in bed longer than the breakfast dismissal bell.

"Uh huh." Aja said triumphantly, taking up the seam ripper again and beginning on the next shirt, "And when's the last time you fantasized about Cullen fucking you blind?"

Hadiza made a noise that could be taken as a growl of annoyance.

"And Samson?"

Hadiza rolled over onto her stomach and let out a muffled scream beneath the pillow and into her mattress.

"So Samson gets you hot no matter what, and he's actually taken an interest in you…the real you. I don't see why you're agonizing. Cullen will recover from heartbreak, but you owe him the truth. Don't go sneaking off to the scrying room kissing ex-Templars."

Hadiza rolled back over, took the pillow off her face, and glared at her sister. Aja looked supremely unbothered and continued to rip the seam of the shirt she was working on.

"What about Blackwall?" Hadiza asked with a heavy sigh, "Are you in love with him?"

"No." Aja said calmly, "But that's not why he and I are together. I love him, and he loves me, but we've lived too much life to get all moon-eyed over one another. It's a nice, calm, trouble-free relationship." Hadiza narrowed her eyes.

"No need to rub it in or anything," she grumbled and Aja smirked, smug and superior as she took up the needle and thread once more, "I just wish it had been someone like…Iron Bull…or fucking Leliana…or someone that isn't supposed to be my fucking prisoner." She let out that exasperated noise again and Aja shook her head, laughing.

"When do you plan on telling Samson how you feel about him?" Aja asked softly. Hadiza made a small sound in her throat.

"I don't. I mean…I will…but…Maker, this isn't appropriate. I have too much power over him. It'll look like I'm taking advantage of a prisoner. I don't even know how long of a sentence he should serve to be considered eligible for freedom." Hadiza sighed again, and put the pillow back on her face.

"Why not free him officially after one year?" Aja suggested, "Then have him continue to atone by doing service for those he hurt? The families of the Templars that were lost to red lyrium corruption should be compensated, and much of Ferelden and Orlais require reconstruction from being overrun with the stuff. Why not have him participate in that when this war is over?" Hadiza took the pillow from her face and looked at her sister.

"You know, that's not half-bad. Rather brilliant, actually. Would you like to be the Inquisitor, now? Please say 'yes.'" At that, Aja's lips quirked and she pointed to Hadiza's left hand.

"Sorry," she said glibly, "I'm not the chosen one or Herald of Andraste or what have you. I'm just the Inquisitor's younger sister. Aside, you're the one that's falling in love with the man. Though he's not as pretty as Cullen. I didn't take you for the dark and burned out type, Diza."

"He's…he's got a certain something about him," Hadiza said lazily, waving her hand in a dismissive manner, "I've never had a preference for looks but Samson isn't so hard on the eyes. He's just sick is all, and I'm going to help him get better."

Aja was very quiet in that moment, and she paused to look at her sister's face so suffused with hope that she didn't bother to ask about how she planned to stop the red lyrium corruption from eventually claiming his life.

"So when do we scry for Corypheus?" She asked instead. Hadiza sighed.

"As soon as Dorian finishes the preparations of the potion, and Samson gives me a piece of himself."

"I'm sure there's a piece of himself he's been dying to give you." Aja said smoothly.

"No, just hai—Aja!"

"What? Am I lying?" Aja smirked.

"You're incorrigible."

Aja chuckled and returned to her sewing as the sun crawled across the large bedchamber.

"I hear that." She murmured, shearing off the loose thread of another stitch.

They made the attempt that evening.

Dorian, being the gentleman that he was, had managed to whip up the potion that would allow Hadiza to scry beyond what was the usual. When they gathered in the scrying chamber, Hadiza was already waiting for them. Samson leaned against the wall near the table normally reserved for study and meals, and Hadiza was standing by her writing desk, fiddling with the scrying diadem. Dorian seemed to be the only one that was relatively relaxed.

"You'd think someone died the way you two look, Inquisitor," he said smoothly, "cheer up."

"Yes," Samson said with a slight sneer, " 'cheer up.' We're only about to attempt to search for an ancient darkspawn Tevinter magister who will flay her mind if he catches her." Dorian smirked.

"Just a typical day for our young Lady Trevelyan, then," he replied, then produced the vial, "there you go, one liquidus vivendi for your scrying pleasure, complete with the hair plucked from one disgraced general's head…for flavor, of course." Hadiza took the vial, which was warm from Dorian's hand. His expression turned grave.

"I must warn you, that once you open up this door, it will be hard to close, and when you scry for Corypheus, it will be easier for him to reach back," Dorian murmured, "if he does, I will tell Samson to drop the hammer to the anvil and sever the connection, but that risks knocking you into the Fade. So be. Careful." He gripped her shoulders, gave them a light squeeze, and then grinned, his smile cutting through his brown face like a blade.

"Have fun." He said and then strode off to take his place across the room.

Hadiza stood alone, her scrying diadem in one hand, the potion in another. She took a deep breath and opted to take the potion first, to give it time to settle into her blood. She carefully uncorked the tincture, wrinkling her nose at the bitter smell. Swearing under her breath, she pinched her nose and tossed it back, grimacing slightly at the strength of the bitterness.

How fitting for the situation. She thought, and then slowly placed the diadem on her head and face, walking toward the center of the scrying circle. She knelt, the stones cold beneath her knees, but she was a practiced woman in the art of meditation; the discomfort would pass to numbness the deeper she sank into her focus.

Samson took up his post directly in front of her and she was reminded that this was not unlike a Harrowing back at the Circle. The Templar assigned to strike the killing blow was usually positioned aft of the mage, allowing the execution to be swift and free of hesitation or doubt. Samson deliberately took up the fore because he…Hadiza shook her head, the lyrium chains tinkling. She couldn't think about that, now. She had to concentrate. So she shut her eyes and cleared her head.

The potion settled in her body, its bitterness coursing through her veins like lyrium, only it did not sing the crystal blue song. It was silent and dour, but it was potent, and when Hadiza opened her eyes again, the scrying chamber was gone. There was only Thedas, and innumerable threads of life for her to latch onto. She focused, honed in on her own memories of Corypheus, on the thread of essence that she had in her blood, and began to travel. Thedas rushed by, rapidly but vivid in the same sense of the Fade when one passed into it. The edges of the world were blurred like wet paint on a canvas in a strong wind, smearing colors together but allowing her to increase her focus.

Maker she was fast!

She flew over Thedas like a wraith, barely skimming mountaintops. So many life threads! The liquidus vivendi was potent even without the use of blood magic, and Hadiza paused, trying to find the one that belonged to the magister.

Of course, she found it, but it was not the vibrant red of the other lives in Thedas, spindly and serpentine. No, his was a black thread, sharp around its edges, tucked away amidst a sea of red. To her surprise, it was in the southern Frostbacks, near where Haven used to be. Hadiza reached for it, and there was a rush as she was suddenly groundside, and there were faces all around her. Red Templars, she realized, seeing the corrupted lyrium protruding from their bodies, while others were completely obscured by their helmets.

She followed the black thread slowly; careful not to latch onto it, but touch it just enough to see it leading into one of the many abandoned mine shafts. It took her to an ancient room, which had clearly once been apart of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and of course, she should not have been surprised that the ancient magister bestowed himself like a king amongst his Venatori and Red Templar supplicants. His back was to her, so she crouched in the shadows as he spoke, trying to catch wind of his conversation with his agents.

"—the sacrifices must not be tarnished ere I reclaim what was stolen from me." His voice reverberated along the thread that was his life force. Hadiza wished she could cut it and end him right there. She knew she had to face him again.

"As you will, master," one of the Venatori responded from an obeisant kneel, "shall we begin the ritual now?" Corypheus was quiet, and then he began to turn. Hadiza felt her blood run cold as she caught a glimpse of his twisted profile.

"No," he said slowly, "'Twould be best to wait for the blood moon to rise tomorrow evening. That is unless…" He turned fully, his eyes staring into the darkness where she hid. Hadiza let go of the thread cautiously, prayed for a miracle, and held her breath.

"Are you ready to face your final hour, Herald?"

Shit.

Samson had been in Kirkwall when things started to really go downhill after Meredith took over. He'd seen the rise of panic in the mages as Meredith's policies and tactics grew increasingly more brutal, and had argued with Cullen over it. He'd tried to help those he could when he could, and in their desperation, most mages who escaped the Circle or were hidden turned to blood magic.

He'd been there when everything in Kirkwall came to a head, first during the Qunari invasion and then during the wake of the Chantry being blown up by an angry and crazed apostate. He was prepared through decades of training and experience to handle troubled mages and other enemies and with the lyrium song renewed and strong in his veins, he was prepared to reach for his abilities if need be.

So when Hadiza began to move while in the midst of a scrying, he knew something had gone wrong.

"Um…isn't she supposed to be sitting still?" Aja asked as Hadiza's head turned, slow and methodical.

"That's generally the best way to scry," Dorian said, then frowned as one of the sigils flared up, "shit. Shit! Samson, I think she's been spotted. Corypheus must be trying to burn away her wards."

Samson didn't need to be told what would happen if the wards were burned away and Hadiza was being controlled by the magister. He'd seen it happen to mages who were careless around him while in the darkspawn's service. Without thinking he reached for Silence, and before he could cast it, Hadiza was on her feet.

"You dare?" She asked but it wasn't her voice that came out of her mouth, it was Corypheus' and Aja was already unsheathing her blade as Dorian readied a shield around them both. Hadiza's face was contorted in a rictus of preternatural rage, cheeks unnaturally hollowed, her eyes still white, but there was an encroaching blackness in them, as Corypheus' hold on her mind grew stronger.

"You," she pointed at Samson, "you to whom I gave new life! Is this how you repay me?"

Samson narrowed his eyes. He wouldn't cut Hadiza down; not yet. He'd promised her he'd keep her alive if he could.

"Samson, any time now," Dorian said nervously as another sigil burned away. Samson was waiting, however, because he knew what he was about.

"Enslaving me to your cause wasn't new life, Corypheus," Samson sneered, "and she'll stop you. You're running out of options and you're scared. She'll stop you, you son of a bitch. And I hope I live to see the look on your face when she does."

Corypheus/Hadiza whipped around, reaching for a spell that was not available to her. In frustration, she attacked Samson, and that's when he reached for the lyrium in his blood. All of it.

And brought the fist of a Holy Smite down on the entire room.

He heard Dorian choke and gasp as his mana was drained away, dropping to his knees while Aja tried to help him, looking slightly sick herself. Hadiza collapsed on the floor, and every torch in the room was snuffed out as the magic in the room burned away in the wake of his smite.

The silence that came in its wake was heavy with a warbling anticipation.

"Any survivors?" Samson asked as he gingerly turned Hadiza's limp form over, and scooped her into his arms. He took the diadem from her face, and leaned down. He could feel it; faint little puffs of breath. She was alive, then, but her mana was drained, and so was the lyrium in his system.

"She alive?" Aja asked, supporting Dorian effortlessly. Samson nodded.

"We should get her to her chambers. She'll be up soon, and I think she'll feel better waking up in the comfort of her own room." Dorian suggested. Samson nodded and they set out, leaving the scrying chamber behind them. Samson only hoped it was for good.

It was just past dawn when they got to her room, and it was shocking to realize how much time had passed.

"The absolute decadence! The opulence! Truly the mark of a woman used to sitting in the lap of luxury! I adore it." Dorian exclaimed and Aja nudged him in the ribs as she helped him sit on the couch. Samson had to admit he was a bit awestruck himself. He never thought he'd breech her bedchamber, and when he did entertain the fantasy, it wasn't with her unconscious in his arms. He lay her down against the bed, making sure she was comfortable, and then he waited.

It didn't take long for the gossip to spread. There was nothing for it; they had to pass through the main hall to get to Hadiza's bedchamber, and no few nobles saw Samson carrying the woman upstairs to her inner sanctum.

And it didn't take long for someone to drop the word within earshot of Commander Cullen. When he heard, his face was stoic, but as he strode off the practice field, leaving the soldiers under the watch of his lieutenants, he became increasingly more furious. He did not greet anyone as he stalked by, a lion truly, and had he a tail it would be twitching with his anger.

He didn't bother to knock, skipping entire steps as he made his way to Hadiza's bedchamber, bursting through the door only to find Samson standing in the room, with Hadiza unconscious on her bed. Aja and Dorian were seated on the couch.

"Ah shit." Aja muttered and before anyone could react, Cullen crossed the room. Samson barely registered the reaction, tired as he was, as Cullen's fist cracked across his face.

"Ah shit." Aja said again and got up. "Cullen! Oy! Commander! Hey stop!" Cullen was practically on top of Samson, fists flying, and Samson wasn't defending himself, but he did get his hits in before Aja roared and pulled Cullen back. Without thinking, Cullen reacted, turning and striking her across the face. Aja stumbled, but Samson saw the opportunity and climbed to his feet. Aja returned the hit with one of her own, a strike fueled mildly by Reaver rage, and Cullen felt the hit clear through his brain.

"You can wail on Samson all you like, Commander," Aja snarled, "but if you ever hit me again outside of the practice ring I will nail your fucking head to my sister's door!"

"Can we just…?" Dorian was about to ask everyone to calm down when Hadiza sat up, groaning. Cullen, Samson, and Aja turned as one.

"What is going on in here?" She demanded and worked to climb out of bed. Samson caught her when she stumbled, and she smiled at him, and then grimaced, seeing the blood around his nose.

"Samson what…? Did I…?"

"Hadiza." Cullen's voice cut through her concern as she turned to him. Then, she put the pieces together.

"You should probably explain why he's in your bedchamber this early in the morning, Inquisitor." Cullen said harshly. Hadiza swallowed, and turned to face him. Cullen's glare was more than she could bear at the moment.

"I found Corypheus." She said simply. Cullen's eyes went wide. He had been prepared for everything but that.

"You what?" Cullen asked. Hadiza smiled, spreading her trembling hands, but Samson swore he was the only one that saw them shake.

"I found Corypheus, and Samson helped me track him down." Cullen looked from her to Samson. Hadiza reached into the pocket of her robe, handing Samson the monogrammed handkerchief for his nose. He blinked as she dabbed at the blood and Cullen growled.

"He's our prisoner, Hadiza, and a threat to your life, why would you…?" Cullen was frustrated. He saw how tender she was with him, saw the look Samson gave her when she handed him the handkerchief.

"He also saved my life, Cullen. Had he not, Corypheus would be standing in my place." She snapped at him. Aja rubbed her jaw, which was already bruising.

"She didn't want to tell you because she knew you'd lose your shit over it. She's been searching for Corypheus all this time. Samson was there as a failsafe in case the magic backfired."

Cullen wanted to explode but instead he swallowed. Sensing this, Hadiza sighed.

"Could you all excuse us? I wish to speak with him alone." Samson frowned, but complied, following Aja and Dorian out of the room. As soon as they left, Cullen turned on her.

"You couldn't even trust me." He said quietly. Hadiza bit her lip, looking away. Cullen clenched his hands into fists.

"Hadiza, why? I would have…I would have…"

"You would have stopped me, Cullen," she said to him, "or tried to. The magic I used was dangerous, and without Dorian's help and expertise I might have died in the attempt. Samson still has his Templar abilities, he was the only one I could trust to strike me down if…if I…"

"Don't say it." Cullen said harshly. Hadiza pursed her lips.

"See? That's it, right there. Why I didn't tell you. I can't even breathe the word without you getting skittish, Cullen. I needed someone who was sure they could strike me down. I needed someone who wasn't afraid of me."

Cullen glanced up at her sharply, eyes wide. His mouth opened and then closed. Hadiza laughed mirthlessly, running her fingers through her hair.

"Cullen, I haven't been able to truly be myself with you, and I'm so tired. I have tried to…downplay my being a mage around you because I know how uncomfortable it makes you but I can't do this anymore."

Cullen's face went ashen.

"What are you saying? You would cast me aside for him?" He asked quietly. Hadiza gasped.

"What? No! I'm not casting you aside for anyone. I'm…Cullen you are no longer bound by the Order or the Circle, just as the Circle or the Chantry no longer binds me. I have to be able to use my magic freely without fear of setting you off. And until you heal whatever soul-wounds you sustained, I can't do that."

Cullen couldn't believe what he was hearing. His mind fair reeled at the revelation.

"Hadiza, I…" He searched desperately for words now that he needed them most. He was losing her, he was losing her because of his fear, and it didn't help because his fear only grew.

"I asked you, once," Hadiza said softly, "if you could ever come to care for a mage. For me. Because that's what I am, Cullen. I am a mage, and there is no amount of suppression that will divorce that from my identity."

Cullen swallowed hard.

"I love you, Hadiza. Maker I love you unlike anything else in this world. I just…I just worry for you." Hadiza crossed her arms as he spoke, taking a deep breath.

"Worry for me? Or worry that I may one day give way to corruption? Cullen, Corypheus almost possessed me just this past evening. Samson smote me without hesitation. And had I become truly possessed, he would have killed me. Could you have done the same?" Cullen's expression was hard at the mention of the man, and it left a bad taste in his mouth to digest the words.

"Samson doesn't love you, Hadiza."

Hadiza was quiet. Cullen felt sick, and perhaps this was what it meant to be heartbroken.

"Maker's breath…" He whispered, glancing toward the stairwell that led to her bedroom door, then back at Hadiza, "…he does, doesn't he? He…have you…Hadiza you didn't…"

"No. Andraste's flaming sword, don't insult me. I would never think to do that to you, Cullen." Hadiza said gently, "But he was willing to strike me down despite his feelings and you couldn't even answer me when I asked if you would do the same. Cullen you can't let your love for me supersede our mission."

"I'm not!" Cullen snapped, "You were experimenting with dangerous magic and you trusted a disgraced war criminal over your own…over me. Hadiza do you…do you love me at all?" There it was, then. The question she was able to answer when her sister asked, but now, seeing Cullen's broken expression, frightened that he was losing the only woman that ever truly mattered to him in so long, she couldn't bring herself to say it.

"I love you, Cullen," she breathed, "but I love me, more. If I cannot be the whole of what I am with you, then how is that fair to either of us? How is that fair to me that I must take small breaths and you be allowed to breathe deeply and freely?"

Cullen was quiet, thinking of all the times he'd seen Hadiza using her magic in the most mundane ways, and her look of joy when Samson explained theories to her while she practiced, and how inwardly he flinched each time she raised her hand to cast a spell. Then he remembered how she would catch herself in the midst of a spellcasting, see him, and stop, looking somewhat chastened. She was right—Maker she was right—he had been stifling her with his fear, and that had driven her elsewhere for comfort.

"So what do we do, now?" He asked her. Hadiza sighed.

"You need to heal, Cullen. But until you can breathe comfortably around me in the midst of a spellcasting, it's not healthy for us to be together…not as more than friends and colleagues, at least."

Cullen swallowed against a lump in his throat, and drew himself up.

"I understand, Inquisitor," he said, and for some reason his use of her title hurt worse than any curse he could hurl at her; she wished he were angry and shouting, that she could handle, but this business of shutting down and shutting her out was worse.

"Is there anything else?" He asked her. Hadiza was quiet for a moment, and the light in the room felt and looked completely different in the wake of their private war.

"No, Commander," she said hollowly, "there isn't."

"Then I shall take my leave," he bowed stiffly, she swallowed hard, "good day, Inquisitor." And when he turned to leave she counted his footsteps against the rhythm of her heartbeats, listened to the door to her bedchamber open and then close with all the finality of a music box being shut.

Alone in her bedchamber, standing in a shaft of sunlight, Hadiza dropped to her knees, and wept.