Weak and tired from his long fall, the fighting, his wounds and the healing of a dozen mages - none which could match Anders in skill – Garrett stumbled and ran forward.

The halls looked the same, the stairs looked the same, everything was the same.

Yet Garrett kept running, rushing forward in a pace that made his head swim.

Everywhere, stairs, halls, stairs, halls, stairs, halls.

Over and over.

Faces, men, women, strangers.

Staring, always staring.

Then, another hall, long, built of yellow stone.

And midway through it, a closed door on the right side, Isabela and Varric on the left.

Garrett came to a halt, blankly staring.

Varric, for once, didn't look confident, didn't look helpful or even sympathetic. He looked broken, lost in misery. He didn't even seem to see Garrett.

Isabela jumped at the sight of him, a look of guilt on her tear-streaked face as she stared at him with wide eyes. She met his gaze, shook her head, and then looked away while rubbing her tears aside, mostly smearing them across even more of her face.

Garrett's numb gaze was drawn to the door to the right though, tired legs bringing him closer to a green door, its colour worn down around the edges. The handle, stained red with blood, sent a chill down Garrett's spine.

He moved closer, step after painful step, trudging for the door like he was walking through a mire.

Then his hand was closed around the handle, the blood soft against his palm, making the handle, creaking with age, initially resisting his twisting hand. Still, however much he hated to proceed, the handle could not resist for more than a moment, giving way with a crack, the handle twisted, opening the door.

Behind, silverite chainmail was pushed out of the way, by the door, the armour lying discarded like a worn rag. Garrett, gaze reluctantly turning, took in the room. A chamber for a senior enchanter, the spacious room was full of bookshelves and scrolls...and now a puddle of blood in the centre of the room.

Further to the right, a young woman, a pale human, hands shaking as she wiped her bloodied hands off on a tower, stopped dead in her tracks as with wide eyes she stared at him entering. Garrett stared at the blood on her hands with a strange feeling of detachment...and then swung his gaze further to the right, to the enchanter's bed.

The sheets of the bed were white, pristine...but there was no hiding the blood-soaked pile lying at tits foot, pulled off and replaced, a gruesome testament to the horror that had occurred in the room beforehand.

Tucked into the bed, almost as pale as the sheets themselves, Merrill lay, her mop of dark hair stood in stark contrast to it all. The woman was small in the bed, small and fragile like glass, big green eyes staring straight ahead, rimmed with redness from felled tears that still ran down her face.

Then, she looked up, at him.

Suddenly, she was shaking her head, a shudder running through her."G-Garrett, I...I'm s-so sorry, I...I'm sorry, so so-sorry..." Garrett strode for her, the rest of the world shirking away from them as he collapsed onto his knees next to the bed, reaching out to hold her even as the elf feebly tried to push his arms aside. "So-sorry, so-sorry...so sorry, sorry..." The woman's words gasped from a contracting throat, tore at his soul.

Then he was holding the sides of her face, pressing his forehead against hers as he squeezed his eyes shut, tears freely falling next to hers. "Hush, hush..." He swallowed, his attempts at comforting failing horribly as the world fell apart around him. Dead...dead...

"Sorry!" Merrill cried, louder, her hands rushing out, one wrapping over his neck, the other over his shoulders, clutching at him like a she was about to fall of a cliff. "I'm sorry! So sorry! I-I'm sorry!" The woman shook, violently, terrified. "I c-couldn't, I l-let...I'm sorry!"

Garrett, pressing his face into the crook of her neck, shook his head in denial, the woman's words cutting into him like razors. "No, no..." He was stroking her back with one hand, the other holding her tighter, trying to stop them both from shaking apart as all that remained of their world was each other. "Don't say that, n-no...I'm so-sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Merrill's reply was a wordless wail.

She gripped him tighter, the two of them rocking back and forth in the darkness enveloping them, waves of pain and guilt and anguish washing over them until there was no room to speak, think or even breathe.

My fault, my fault, my fault...

Merrill gripping him tighter.

Our fault, our fault, our fault...

No, no, no, no, no, no, no...

The overwhelming pain slowly subsided, turning into an almost more painful ache, mixed with a growing despair as they, seemingly weightless, spiralled into a dark pit of horror.

Dimly, Garrett was aware of the two sinking back, of Merrill's grip loosening as she, too weak to hold on, slipped back into the bed. He, exhausted, found himself lying across her, head resting on her chest, hearing the weak flutter of her heart, her ragged breaths, each full of so much pain.

Pain echoing within him like a separate heartbeat as time dragged on.

Not right.

Not fair.

I killed our child.

The guilt bore into him, making him grip the sheets tighter even as he lay there, too tired to move.

Fenris. Should have killed him, could have...

All my fault.

Garrett recoiled from the thought, but there was nothing else to grip him, nothing else to tear at his broken heart, nothing else but despair.

All my-

No, there was something else, something else to hold onto.

Desperate, in anguish, Garrett reached for it.

All her fault...

Slowly, out of tears, he raised his head, empty gaze staring straight ahead.

Next to him, Merrill stirred, then whimpered. "G-Garrett...? No, no please don't. It...it's enough now...p-please don't..."

She was reaching for him, weak hands brushing his arm...but Garrett was already rising to his feet, all grief, pain and tiredness forgotten in that moment.

She was crying, he could hear it. "P-please...I n-need you with me, n-not...please don't go."

He knew he should look down at her, he also knew that if he did, he would crumple, his new resolve too fragile to endure her gaze.

So he didn't. He didn't so much as glance at her as he turned away, marching for the door.

Behind, her voice was but a whisper. "Please..."

Garrett left, closing the door behind him, hard eyes taking in the sight of Isabela and Varric standing with the woman that had been in Merrill's room. Noticing him, they looked at him in shock and sympathy...and then fright.

Varric was the first to react, the dwarf licking his lips before he tried to speak. "Hey, buddy, how-"

"Varric, Isabela, I need your help." Marching up to them, Garrett found them recoiling from his glower. "It's time to use the tunnel leading out into the city." Next to them, the female mage gasped in surprise. "You two will use it alone though, you will go out through it...and you'll go to every tavern, every market and every place where the people have gathered..." He spat the words. "You'll find them, and you'll find the guard...and you'll turn their fear into something more useful."

Isabela exchanged a look with Varric before speaking. "Err...I'm not sure I-"

"You will do this." Garrett growled, not in the mood for debate. "Now go, get your things, I'll have more detailed instructions for you when you come back."

Varric and Isabela both looked ready to argue more, but Garrett's withering look made them recoil and then mutely turn, a frightened mutter escaping them as they walked for their rooms.

Garrett, glowering, made the human mage squeal as he turned his gaze to her, she froze mid-step in her attempt to sneak off. "You."

"Y-yes Se-Serah...?"

Garrett narrowed his eyes, the cogs in his mind moving, forming dark clouds into a more concrete plan.

"Get me the alchemists."

8

8

8

For once, the flaps to Meredith's tent were closed, but Cullen, being well-known among the templars, found the guards pushing them aside to let him in as he approached.

Ducking his head, he entered the tent lit up by several oil-lamps, his tone wary as he took in the room. "You sent for me..." Meredith was sitting by a table on the far side, away from him, her elbows resting on the table, staring at what was before her. "...C-Commander?" Cullen's question turned into a horrified stutter.

Carver and Fenris' heads lay on the table, each placed on a plate, as if they were about to be served for dinner. Slack in their features, the elf and human heads were pale, their filmy eyes staring straight ahead.

Cullen, swallowing, took a hesitant step forward. "Wh...what in the name of the Maker is this?"

Meredith, her tone cold, evenly replied without taking her eyes off the two heads. "Our friend Garrett sent them...seems the assassination attempt failed."

"Garrett?" Cullen dully repeated, disbelief gripping him. He hadn't known Fenris, nor cared overly much for Carver...but what he saw...no one deserved that. "Garrett did this?" He couldn't make it fit. They might not have gotten along, been enemies, but Garrett's not...Maker, what happened!?

"Yes, it seems he did." Meredith growled. "Finally exposing his real colours...I should have known. He cavorts with blood-mages, of course he's a monster in disguise...I mean what else could he be, cutting their heads off and sending them here like a gift?"

Anger gripped Cullen, so swiftly and surely that it made him gasp in surprise even as he took a step forward. "Excuse me!? Monster!? May I remind you that you intended to cut his head off and parade it on a pike!? Why is he doing this a monstrous act when your intent wasn't!?"

Face coloured by surprise, Meredith rose and turned, frowning at him in sudden suspicion. "Why are you defending him...?"

"Defending him!?" Cullen shook his head, spreading his hands wide. "I'm defending none of this! This madness! This whole war is insanity!"

"That is what magic does to men, yes." Meredith growled back, straightening. "You, if anyone, should know that...these circle mages have turned to blood-magic, to monsters, and they're led by one."

"No!" Cullen took another step forward, emboldened by his anger. "You're right, I know exactly what a corrupt circle looks like, what it can do...and this wasn't one of them!" He shook his head, baffled by the insanity surrounding him. "And Garrett was one of the few people willing to talk about things, willing to compromise...together we could have created peace! But now..." Shaking his head slower, Cullen stared at the two heads. "...now it's too late, he's been pushed over the edge."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing, I know you've been of a liberal...inclination...but Captain, this is borderline treason." Meredith took another step forward, the imposing woman towering over Cullen, her face dark with anger.

He only took another step forward though, snarling back. "Oh yes, of course, it's always that, no? Either I'm with or against you, either it's yes or no, either it's black or white...well guess what, that's exactly what's brought us to this point." He shook his head. "You've pushed and pushed and pushed...and now we'll reap what you've sown." Finally, he took a step back, sighing. "I...should have done more, yes, to hold back you and made you see...but in the end..." He looked up, eyes flashing at the woman. "...this is on your hands."

Meredith blinked, a look of uncertainty suddenly colouring her face. "Then...what would you advise me to do now..." She growled, narrowing her eyes. "...you who think you know so well what's best?"

Cullen shrugged though. "Do?" He chuckled. "It's too late now, there's no turning this, the lance has been lowered...now all there is to do is wait for the impact." He took another step back, shaking his head. "Those heads aren't a sign of blood-magic by the way...they're a warning, telling us one thing..."

"And what's that?" Meredith snorted, though there was no hiding the look of uncertainty on her face.

"That he's about to bring the war to us." Cullen, shivering with dread, turned to leave and raised the tent's flap.

Behind though, Meredith spoke up to halt him. "And you? What do you intend to do? Flee? Abandon your duty?"

"Oh, I'll stay and do my duty." Cullen turned his head, shooting Meredith a glare. "After all, you're going to need every Templar you can get."

Outside, clouds were gathering...

8

8

8

Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the knights.