Standing in front of the wooden door to the forge, Cullen hesitated. He could hear the timed clunk of a hammer on steel. Gathering his courage, the blonde ex-templar swung the door open and stepped inside, carefully shutting the door behind him.

"We need to talk."

CLINK! Cassandra slammed the hammer into the steel blade a final time, glancing up at her visitor.

"Commander?" the seeker laid the hammer on the anvil and the heated blade to rest in a barrel of water, causing the water to sizzle and steam.

Cullen inhaled a deep breath and exhaled,"I want you to... recommend a replacement for me."

"And why would we require one?" the woman scoffed.

"The Inquisition would be better led by someone else. I cannot do this-this pain-I cannot endure."

"You can, Cullen. This army- the Inquisition- needs you. A replacement is not necessary," she declared pursing her lips.

"That is a lie! I can function as commander no longer! " Cullen proclaimed as he rubbed his pounding temples. The headache was worsening, and this conversation wasn't helping.

"You are strong, Commander. No one else is equipped to lead this army but you. You've asked for my opinion, and I have given it. Why would you expect it to change?!" Cassandra sneered, crossing her arms.

Cullen shook his head. "I expect you to keep your word. It's relentless! I can't-"

"You give yourself too little credit."

"If I am unable to fulfill the vows I kept, then nothing good has come of this. Would you rather save face than admit-" Cullen stopped short at the soft squeak of the door opening. Inquisitor Silvia Lavellan entered the threshold. Immediately taking his leave at the intrusion, Cullen walked towards the exit.

"Forgive me," he muttered bowing his head as he brushed past, refusing to meet the Inquisitor's curious stare. The door closed behind him with soft thud.

"And people say I'm stubborn. This is ridiculous!" Cassandra complained, making sure to raise her voice in case the commander was within earshot.

"What was that about?"

"You're aware the commander no longer takes lyrium, correct?" Cassandra questioned, softening her expression.

Silva nodded. "Yes, and I think it's brave, and I respect his decision."

"As do I, not that he's willing to listen," uncrossing her arms, the seeker continued, "Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him. I refused. It is not necessary. Besides, that would destroy him. He's come so far..."

"Is there anything we can do to change his mind?"

"If anyone could, it would be you, Inquisitor. Mages have made their suffering known but templars never have," Cassandra explained, turning her gaze toward the crackling forge fire, "They are bound to the order, mind and soul- with someone always holding their lyrium leash. Cullen has a chance to break that leash- to prove to himself and anyone who follows suit that it's possible. He can do this! I knew that when we met at Kirkwall. Talk to him. Decide if now is the time." The seeker sauntered to the back of the forge and plucked her sword from the bucket.

Inquisitor Silvia left the forge. Ambling towards the Cullen's office, she tilted her head to the sky. The golden afternoon sun caused her skin to tingle with warmth. During the day, the Commander reports to me stating guard rotations, requisitions, supply reserves, and armory needs. The Inquisition would suffer without him, that's a fact he knows. I would hate to lose him. Anyone else would be... not the same. Ha, I've spent more hours thinking about him than I have myself. Please stay, Commander, because I can't stop thinking about you? She chuckled at the thought as she climbed the battlement stairs.

Cullen pulled the wooden box containing the lyrium kit from the drawer. The lid squeaked open, his fingers brushing over the carving of Andraste on the inside. Cullen's narrow, unrelenting stare studied the swirling blue liquid within the vial that taunted him. It was as if he was staring into the face of a Lyrium monster- a monster that offered sweet relief in exchange for eternal servitude. His body ached to feel the familiar numbness spread through his veins- through his mind. A sharp stab of pain in his gut caused Cullen's hands to tighten around corners of the wooden container. He winced. If I take it, then the pain would subside... these accursed memories would leave me... if I could just- Another sharp pain stabbing him under his left rib disrupted his thoughts. I do not want to be that person again- the person at Kirkwall... Ferelden... Memories surged through his mind before he could push them away.

'.'.'

The young templar paced around his blue prison, a small magical force field.

"Hello, dear friend," a male greeted, his voice sickeningly sweet.

Cullen whipped his head up to find a pale hooded mage on the outside of the force field bubble. With him was one other, burlap sack on their head and hands tied.

"If you are going to kill me, then do it! What is the point in all this?" Cullen hoarsely yelled, voice breaking.

"Where would the fun be in that?" the mage laughed, "Beg."

The templar clenched his fists, knuckles turning white under his gauntlets.

"No?" the mage pulled the sack hood off the nearest figure.

"Mia?" he gasped, knees buckling to the frigid, stone floor. His sister stared at him unblinkingly, tears shimmering down her cheeks

"Why did you abandon us to this fate?" Mia asked, voice wavering in between labored breaths.

"N-No! I didn't!" Cullen threw his palms flat on the ground, bowing his head between his hands. "Please, mage, release them! I beg you! I'm sorry. I am so sorry! Kill me, torture me, do what you like... just please let them live!"

"Ah, was that so hard?" the mage gave tight-lipped smile, "Unfortunately, I should not have to ask twice."

The magic caster held his hands in front of him- casting from his palms a brilliant flame that engulfed Mia entirely. Her shrill screams of agony echoed throughout the chamber, enveloping him. Gritting his teeth, Cullen charged toward the mage. When his body touched the blue wall, a sudden flow of electricity coursed through his body. The templar's writhing body skidded to the ground. His armor caused a sharp scrapping noise to reverberate in the chamber. When Cullen came to, he was on the stone floor. His muscles still twitching from the shock, the templar hastily glanced around the room, the screams still ringing in his ears. There was no fire, no smoke, or even ashes. The mage had disappeared as well. None of it was real... They are going to break me... They are going to kill my mind before they kill me... That was the first of many times that night Cullen was forced to watch people he cared about die in front of him.

'.'.'

Cullen felt rage bubbling up inside him, burning his face. Bellowing a roar in frustration, he clasped the lyrium kit, slinging it as hard as he could manage. The Inquisitor ducked as the box sailed inches from her face, and crashed into the door. The stone walls echoed his cry as the wood and glass shrapnel clattered to the floor.

"Maker's breath! I didn't hear you enter! I-" he panted, eyes wide in horror at what he'd nearly done. He paused. "Forgive me..." breathed Cullen, his amber eyes turning away from Silvia.

"Cullen, if you need to talk-"

"You don't have to-" One more painful stab to his ribs caused his knees to buckle. Cullen's hand braced against the corner of the desk as he caught himself. The Inquisitor edged closer to the commander. He weakly waved her away, remaining stooped over the desk. "I never meant for this to interfere."

"Are you going to be alright?" Tilting her head, the elf leaned her hip on the opposite corner of the desk. He glanced up at the question.

"Yes," Cullen paused for a beat, then shook his head, "I don't know." The commander regained his posture, lifting his gaze towards the Inquisitor, a scowl marring his face. "You asked what happened to Ferelden's Circle. It was taken over by abominations. The templars—my friends—were slaughtered." The ex-templar turned to the window behind him, allowing the rays of sun to warm his chilled skin. "I was tortured. They tried to break my mind, and I—how can you be the same person after that? Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what, hm? Her fear of mages ended in madness. Kirkwall's Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. Can't you see why I want nothing to do with that life?"

I do see, Cullen! Why can't you see that I understand.

"Cullen, of course I can. I—"

"Don't! You should be questioning what I've done," the commander paced from the window to the bookshelf along the wall, " I thought this would be better—that I would regain some control over my life, but these thoughts won't leave me…" he growled in frustration, holding his head in his trembling hands for a moment.

"How many lives depend on our success?" he continued pacing by Silvia, ignoring her presence, "I swore myself to this cause…I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry. I should be taking it!" Cullen's clenched fist slammed into the bookshelf, sending a couple books and papers toppling to the floor in a heap.

"I should be taking it," he echoed, voice hoarse and raspy. Silvia shook her head, taking a step towards the commander.

No, you shouldn't be taking it. Lyrium is practically poison to anyone but mages.

"This doesn't have to be about the Inquisition. Is this what you want?" her tone was soft, but firm. Cullen breathed a sigh of exhaustion, exhaling long and slow.

"No," the commander softened, unclenching his fist that still rested on the shelf of the bookcase.

Cullen turned to face her, taking a few small steps. They were a few inches apart. The ex-templar's eyes remained closed for a moment, then opened to lock onto hers. His scowl had given way to a reveal a subtle helplessness. "But these memories have always haunted me. If they become worse, if I cannot endure this-"

"Don't give up. You can," declared Silvia, bringing a hand to lay against his armor breast plate, over his heart, and held it there. The commander sighed again, but this time it was because he had been holding his breath. The inquisitor's words, her touch, and her confidence in his ability to overcome had eased the building tension in his mind.

"Alright," Cullen agreed, the word causing a smile to spread on Silvia's lips as she turned and left. The commander brought a hand up to massage the tense muscles on the back of his neck. His gaze traveled from the books in the floor to the broken box shards.

Maker, what a mess I've made...