Sorry this took so long to put up. I've been struggling with my anxiety the last several weeks. Constant panic attacks left me unmotivated and tired. It's getting back under control now, and I'm going to get back to a regular update schedule.

Velthorn's room was at the top of a tower, no expenses spared. When Josephine had first shown him the way and he'd seen the room that could've housed his entire clan, he had been overwhelmed. This was for him? Just because his title was Inquisitor?

He thought he'd been lucky enough with the house in Haven. This room had to be at least twice its size.

With a sigh, Velthorn sat on the bed and thought of the conversation on the battlements.

On his way there, he hadn't been sure what to expect. To see the Champion of Kirkwall leaned against the stones, looking over the mountains and passes, had been a surprise.

He was the just as Varric had described. His figure was tall and muscular, despite being a mage, and his raven black hair was a little longer than it had been for the stories. A few new scars drew lines across his face, interrupting the shadow of stubble.

Hawke's most striking feature, however, were the strange eyes, which were more yellow than brown. Varric had described them in his books as golden, and that was just about the truth of it.

"Inquisitor," Varric said, "Meet Hawke."

The mage greeted the Inquisitor with a small smile. "Kieran Hawke, at your service."

"Velthorn Lavellan." They shook hands. "I'll admit, this isn't what I was expecting."

"Out of curiosity, what were you expecting?" Varric asked.

"Assassins? Demons? A dragon, perhaps?" Hawke suggested.

Velthorn shrugged. "I don't know. I've never seen you nervous, Varric. Although, I doubt you'd have me assassinated."

"At least someone around here doesn't suspect me of shady dealings."

Hawke gave his friend a crooked smile. "Despite actually being involved in shady dealings?"

"I didn't say I wasn't," Varric said, putting his hands up, "Just that I'm relieved someone isn't expecting it."

They enjoyed another few seconds of casualness, then Hawke looked rather seriously at Velthorn. "Well…I suppose I'm here for a reason. Let's discuss Corypheus."

The three of them talked for another two hours, going over every detail of the mission which had lead them to Corypheus. They explained that the ancient magister had not only been dead, but all but completely destroyed. Hawke and his companions had made sure of that.

"And when I say dead, I mean dead," Hawke explained, "As in, no heartbeat, no breathing, and the affected Wardens returned to normal. So however this happened, I can't tell you. But I have a friend in the Wardens, who said something about corruption in the ranks. He might be able to tell us more."

"If that's where all the Wardens are, this is definitely not good news," Velthorn mused, staring into the sunset. He was thinking. He was always thinking, but this was different.

What if they couldn't kill Corypheus? What if they couldn't stop him?

"I didn't say it would be," Hawke replied, "But when Varric mentioned all this, added to the sudden appearance of all this red lyrium, I knew I had to come."

"Do you travel alone?" the elf asked, curious about where his other companions might be. Varric rarely mentioned anything going on with them currently. Trying to protect them, no doubt.

Hawke shook his head. "Usually its…just Anders and me. I hate to leave him alone, but I've seen Corypheus control him before, and I didn't want to risk it happening again."

Velthorn nodded. "I appreciate you coming all this way. I hope your Warden friend can give us some solid answers on a few things."

"Me too," Hawke answered. His mouth was set in a grim line.

After the conversation was over, Varric and Hawke left together, leaving Velthorn to contemplate all that had been said.

Even now, as he lay in bed for the night, he couldn't get the awful thought out of his head.

What if they couldn't succeed? Not by fault of their own, but because Corypheus simply could not be defeated, not forever. What if the world was simply doomed?

"You are looking particularly broody today," a cheerful sounding Dorian said, approaching from Velthorn's left.

The elf had chosen to sit in the garden after the meeting with the advisers. Cassandra had been…upset after hearing that Hawke was here and that Varric had known where he'd been the entire time. Things in the war council had been tense, making it nearly impossible for Velthorn to think about anything but making sure his friends were on good terms once more.

So now here he was, trying to get some peace of mind amongst the plants that reminded him of home.

Dorian sat down next to him on the bench.

"I saw you from the window. You looked to be too deep in thought than is healthy," he said matter-of-factly.

"Ah," Velthorn replied.

"Not much of a talker, are you?"

Velthorn shrugged. "Not usually. I've done considerably more than usual since joining the Inquisition."

"I can imagine," the human said, "And I can imagine you'll do a lot more of it in the near future. What with being the first Inquisitor in centuries."

Velthorn groaned. "That's what I'm worried about."

"If you didn't worry about it, I'd be surprised. Most people would run in terror from the responsibilities you've taken on."

"Thank you," Velthorn said sarcastically, "That really inspires confidence."

"All right, how about this: you've won nearly all of your battles so far. Your leadership has brought the Inquisition here. You do know you're the reason they're here, right?" Dorian looked at him quizzically.

"That's what people keep saying."

The elf was watching a few birds arguing in the trees, giving him a faraway look. His hair had grown since they'd started this adventure and Dorian wondered if he didn't want to cut it or didn't feel like he had time. Had anyone even concerned themselves with asking him how he felt?

Before he could ask, Velthorn said, "Have you been to see Alexius yet?"

That wasn't a question Dorian had been expecting. "Oh, um, not yet. He isn't…the same man I knew. I did hear about the whole judgement thing, though. You have him working on research, yes? I think that will be good for him. He was always happiest doing research."

"Good," Velthorn said, "I didn't really want to hurt him. I understand why he did it. Fear and grief make people do very strange things. Cassandra doesn't understand why I didn't have him made Tranquil. I don't think she understands what that means to us."

"No, most without magic don't," Dorian replied, "And I'm glad you didn't do that to him. Back home, Tranquility is very, very rarely ever used. I'd never seen a Tranquil until I came here. It's rather unnerving, isn't it?"

Velthorn nodded. He hated that anyone had to live like that, like a living zombie. They had thoughts, sure, but they weren't really people anymore.

In all honesty, Velthorn had only met his first Tranquil a few months ago, when the Inquisition was still in its infancy. He'd tried to hide his shock and discomfort.

"You're agonizing over something. Tell me what it is. I've seen you flitting about the castle, taking care of your companions' every need. Let me return the favor," Dorian said.

Velthorn's fingers tightened on the material of his trousers. "I don't really have the time. I should be getting prepared anyway. We have a dragon to hunt."

Dorian grabbed his arm as the elf rose. "You shouldn't go into battle distracted as you are."

"It's not a distraction. Please let me go," Velthorn said, sounding almost hostile.

The mage did let go, and Velthorn walked away. Dorian let him go. Usually, watching the Inquisitor walk away was a treat, but watching him walk away upset was painful.

As Dorian returned to his nook, he found Volyn sitting on the floor, a small stack of books next to him and one in his hands. He scanned one page after another, reading entirely too quickly. Dorian was going to leave him to it, but Volyn stopped him.

"Do you have a moment?" the vampire asked.

"I suppose I could spare one."

"It's about Corypheus."

"Ah. Nevermind, I think I'll go throw myself from a window. Or clean the stables. With my tongue," Dorian said.

Volyn laughed. "No, it's about something he said while rambling on about making a new world. Something that may be of significance."

"And not entirely mad?" Dorian leaned against the bookshelf next to him.

"Not entirely. Or maybe it is. From what I've read, the story goes that ancient Tevinters entered the Fade and the Maker punished them by creating the Blight, yes?"

"That's one theory, yes. They don't teach it quite like that at home, but I know what you mean. Go on."

Those curious eyes were locked on Dorian's face now. "Corypheus said, and I quote, 'I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the old gods of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers.' So does that mean the Maker punished them before or after actually finding this Golden City?"

Dorian took a few moments to process. The words turned over in his mind as he thought about what those words meant.

"He also said, 'Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty.' Does that also mean this Maker had vacated the Golden City before their arrival?"

"You're saying you think the story is wrong?" Dorian asked.

"Yes. If this isn't just mad ramblings, that means the entire basis for your religious disagreement might have nothing to do with either the southern sect or the Tevinter sect of the Chantry. If the story has any merit at all, wouldn't that mean someone else got to the Golden City before the blamed Tevinter magisters?"

Dorian nodded, baffled. "Well, yes, but if the story simply isn't true at all, it's also possible the City was already corrupted on its own. Perhaps by breaching the Fade in the first place?"

"So, since you know this theology more than I do, mind helping me sort this all out?"

If it would help put his own mind at ease, Dorian was glad to do it. Ever since hearing about Corypheus and what he claimed to be, Dorian's mind had been scrambling. Our fault, his mind screamed, though of course he hadn't been there. Perhaps this would help him.

Then he could work on seeing what was causing Velthorn's moodiness.

He and Volyn scooped up several books and got to work.