Skyhold

She moved nimbly and silently. It was well past midnight in the fortress in the Frostbacks, the air was bitterly cold, though she was wrapped tight in her cloak. Managing to keep her warm from the weather.

The sky was clear of clouds, a simple of blanket of stars, twinkling off in the distance. Since Skyhold was smack dab in the Frostback Mountains, the nearest city was the Dwarf capitol Orzammar, and that was underground.

The hood served a dual purpose, to hide her ears from any prying eyes. Not that it mattered, despite not doing anything about the situation the Inquisition did not mind having Elven servants or travelers spending their time and labor there. Like a lot of human cities, who cared if they were Elves, or what shape their ears were. Their coin was as good as any others. They could still work. Even though they had little real power.

And she was so happy to join the Inquisition months ago. Just before the attack on Haven. She heard of this new organization. Something that was seemingly doing what the South of Thedas needed. Ending wars, righting wrongs, and proving that mages could be good people. They were fighting against terrible enemies, as they soon found out when they were forced to flee for Skyhold. Corypheus sacked Haven and nearly destroyed the Inquisition.

But by the grace of Andraste, they survived to fight another day.

Then, slowly, they began to rebuild. Finally, soon, after much hard work, they had destroyed Corypheus. Opening up the possibility of a brand new world.

And then nothing. The Inquisition instead of trying to win the world and change things for the better sat on their fat noble arses, and did nothing.

She tip toed cautiously up to the large gate. It was closed, Skyhold was locked tight. Most merchants would have already reached the castle and thus was keeping cover under its protection, or would have gone elsewhere. Very few would be stupid enough or brave enough to risk the mountains at this time of night. And the few who were would be no friends of the Inquisition.

Thus the guard was lax, very few members were on duty, and most were either huddling around fires or sleeping soundly in their bunks. And the Inquisitor and a good chunk of the Inner Circle was away.

Now, now was the time to strike.

She approached the giant gate, it was enchanted, and oiled. But still she looked around, her breath hitching in her chest as she scanned for any patrol. Or any threats.

Seeing none she closed her eyes and said a quick prayer to her gods.

So she pressed down on the lever, and slowly, the door opened. The main gate swung forward with hardly a noise.

And behind it was a small group of eight. Led by a man in shining silver Templar Armor. He stepped forward, sword drawn, and the Elven woman's breath hitched again in her chest.

But instead the man glanced at the woman, "Are you here?"

The woman let her hood down and let annoyance flash across her face. "Who else would I be? Why would the door just open to our enemies headquarters?"

The man looked her over, slowly smiling. "Yes, you are she."

And she was one of the Elven servants of the Inquisition. One of the Tavern wenches who worked the Tavern and served drinks to the many people who came through her doors. Tolerating their glares, admiring looks, or muttered insults. After all she made five coppers a day.

She truly believed in the Inquisition. Truly believed she was doing well. But as the weeks turned into months in the wake of Corypheus's defeat it turned out that Benjamin Trevelyan, a mage was just like everyone else.

But yet, she couldn't do anything about it…and the work was good, relatively speaking, and the pay was great.

Though as she became more disillusioned she would spend more time outside the Inquisition's walls. Going to local towns for days at a time. And spending time in taverns. Sometimes hiding her Elven features, sometimes not.

Until finally, inexplicably, she was recognized. Someone knew her as a servant of the Inquisition and made her an offer. It was a soft sell, mainly asking her opinion of events, and the Inquisition…and she perhaps having a little too much to drink, divulged her deepest secrets.

And so, she was recruited that very day.

In an Organization which was forming to fight the Inquisition, about to ambush their patrols, but also they were setting out to change the world for everyone. Not just for a certain group of humans, not to bring back the Old Ways and Breach the Fade or some such nonsense, but to fix things and set people free from their rulers. They said it would require sacrifice and hard work, but they could do it.

She was hooked.

And so she began spying on the Inquisition. Using her photo perfect memory and sketching down Inquisition patrol routes. She knew it was leading to the death of some of the men she would serve, but she wasn't sure she cared. And now, was the time. Because she knew that the Inquisition knew she made sure her masters knew and then they made sure she knew of their current plan.

To hopefully cripple the Inquisition.

So here they were, the strike force.

"Is there anyone about?" The leader asked her.

She nodded timidly suddenly feeling like a much younger self, where she would balk at her betters in society. The big Templars with the bigger armor coming into the alienage's to ask the lowly Elves about matters of magic, or just for a romp if they were of a mind…or just the occasional insult.

"Yes," She said more firmly, "there is a guard out on patrol, he should be around the corner, actually."

The man with the Templar Armor nodded his acceptance of her fact and then gestured to one of his men. Woman actually, as she swept forward wearing a black cloak that almost caused her to completely disappear in the night. She unsheathed her bow, knocking an arrow as she went, found the guard who had stepped into a fire light, and fired.

The elf wasn't used to violence but she watched the arrow fly true with bitter fascination. The arrow struck the man in the neck and he clutched at it, she could just hear him gurgle. But no further sound, no scream, as he toppled over.

The rest of the strike force moved quickly into Skyhold.

"If you know what is good for you Elf, stay here." One of the last men whispered as he passed.

…

The former Knight Lieutenant moved into Skyhold proper. Trying to move with an odd mix of haste and caution. He was driven to complete his mission before anyone would awaken and discover their presence, thus causing a much longer fight then they needed, but he needed to make sure he didn't precipitate the very event he was trying to avoid.

"Alright, everyone, you know what to do, follow the plan."

His men filed in, and soon they got to the Inquisition's senior NCO quarters. Just off the main Tavern.

His rogue knelt down while two of his Sword and Shield Warriors and another rogue fanned out to cover them. He frowned. He had no mages. And while such an incidence might not cause problems or give him pause in the past, this was a new age. And he would have preferred a mage here to give any forces of the Inquisition additional pause.

His teeth were clenched as each scrape and scratch of the Rogue's tools sounded unnaturally loud, either from the darkness, the stillness of the keep, or his own tension, he wasn't sure. Probably a combination of them.

Finally the door creaked open and the small group poured into the barracks.

And everyone was still asleep. Not a single Inquisition soldier stirred. Instead, they were met with the sounds of snoring. Thank the Maker.

He nodded to his men, who tip toed forward. Each to one of the troopers' beds. But they didn't quite have enough people to cover all the beds. Another oversight. The Lieutenant's breath caught in his throat.

They still had their job to do, so blades came down, knifes slashed across throats and they made quite the noise. Some of the Inquisition's soldiers even stirred, blinking wearily, before they too were cut down by rogues.

"Move" he hissed to the assembled group. The next step was the war room.

Slowly they marched up the steps, but their pace increased greatly as they knew time was of the essence. At any second someone could detect their presence, and rally to do something about it. And they were still massively outnumbered.

They arrived, and quickly set about busting up the place. Tearing the great maps, smashing the war table pieces, systematically removing the Inquisition's primary means of intelligence. They needed to be thorough as much as possible, in case the next stage of their mission failed or succeeded.

…

Benjamin Trevalyan walked slowly, his pace was in fact growing ever slower the closer he got to Skyhold. Cassandra's arms were wrapped around him holding him up and steady, and a traveling cloak was draped around his shoulders, dark brown in its color.

He nearly stumbled and fell, and a shooting pain went through his stomach.

"Easy," Cassandra whispered.

Benjamin shot his lover a grateful look.

Nothing had worked. The healing magic he bought to hand had only stymied the flow and the healers at the forward camp had proven insufficient to the cause. They needed the Inquisition's healers. And so they made their way slowly towards Skyhold, stopping when they were required to, their pace slow.

Finally though they had crossed into the Frostbacks, and were making a beeline right for the Inquisition's headquarters. There were few towns in between them and Skyhold, so it was probably best they get their as quick as possible and not waste any time on the events.

Skyhold loomed suddenly out of the darkness. Benjamin felt his spirits lift as he beheld his home. One of the only places he felt safe enough in years to give such a name to it. Home.

But there was something wrong, his eyes narrowed scanning the contours of the place. When he realized his eyes opened wide. "The main gate is open."

Cassandra peered into the darkness, and Benjamin felt her stiffen, herd her hiss. "You're right."

"Something is wrong, the gate shouldn't be open…should it?" Dorian asked.

"No, it shouldn't." Benjamin grunted. "Come on."

The Inquisitor summoned his strength, both mental and physical managing to increase his pace, hobbling along the bridge between the ravine and the main Keep proper.

Finally they entered their home. And looked around. Nothing seemed amiss…until.

"Inquisitor…there is no guard." Cassandra pointed towards the wall.

Benjamin followed her finger and her eyes and saw, no guard.

Something is very likely wrong. "Come, Inquisition, we need to rally the rest of our forces." Benjamin said with a mixture of grimness and determination.

The four of them sprang up the steps, well what qualified for 'springing' by Benjamin's standards were still very small. Maybe if they could reach the warning bell, they could alert the rest of Skyhold.

Hopefully it's not too late…

…

Brandon Durrow couldn't sleep. He could hardly sleep since the Inquisitor left Skyhold, and today was one of the worse days yet…I am a part of the Inner Circle, yet here I am, I get to rest and relax and hide behind these walls, I cannot even lead a patrol anymore, I am too important.

Instead of being out in the wilderness suffering with his men, he was left in the warm and cozy fires of Skyhold, pacing the upper balconies. By where Dorian would usually be found when he was not traveling with the Inquisition.

He had to stifle a yawn but recognized it for the ruse it was. His body felt too wired despite the physical numbness of a hard day of trying to stay in shape.

Suddenly Brandon's head turned toward the opening from the throne room to the rest of the Skyhold proper. Boot steps were reverberating down the halls. That's odd.

Brandon, with his lightly footed socks was able to creep quite silently towards the railing. He peered over it and saw a group of shadows, moving in the light cast by the torches.

Even odder Brandon thought. There weren't supposed to be any large patrols prowling the grounds at this time of night. The back of his neck began prickling. Uh oh. He thought.

He began creeping to try and intercept them.

…

The strike force stepped in to the war room and instantly went to work. Using any of the implements they had, mainly their swords, daggers and bare hands.

Tearing the maps and documents, smashing the table and any other furniture, they even began looking for kindling. But alas they couldn't find any, and time was still short. They were making a lot of noise.

…

"Inquisitor? Do you hear that?" Cassandra hissed beside him.

"Sounds like someone is smashing something, wood," The Inquisitor agreed before springing the rest of the way for the bell in the courtyard.

He pulled on the string and the bell clanged to life, ringing out in the still night like a thunderclap. "Inquisition, to arms! To Arms! Rally! We are under attack!"

Everywhere lights turned on and other noises met his summons. The Inquisition was stirring with the dedication and training he expected of them, and now they moved to meet their destiny.

…

The strike team heard the noise same as everyone else, and stopped. Their destruction was almost complete, but now they had to survive. And if they had any hope of surviving to see tomorrow then they had to move.

Their leader bellowed a command to the rest of the group. And they scrambled. Heading for the throne room, back the way they came.

They arrived, only to face the Inquisitor and a vanguard of his soldiers. They drew their weapons, standing between him, and the Inquisitor. Their weapons came out of their sheathes, cleanly and efficiently, despite the late hour. Though, thankfully, most of them hadn't had time to get their armor on.

…

Brandon Durrow took the final steps, and arrived behind. Freezing behind the vanguard. Watching, without weapon he really was useless, and he cursed his stupidity.

The Inquisitor leaned on his staff, but he was still quite erect. Facing down his enemies, the enemies of the Inquisition. He may have been bent, but he was not broke.

Yet, without a weapon Brandon felt useless.

…

The staff of the dragon tapped against the floor as Benjamin stepped forward.

"Enemies of the Inquisition, you stab out in the middle of the night. Like Cowards. Again, you do not face our full force alone, but now we know you, and we will stand against you."

"Then stand!" The Leader of their enemies shouted lounging forward with his blade.

An arrow sprung out of the darkness, Benjamin flipped out the Spirit blade knocking it back the way it came. Breaking it in half and the pieces hit the archer who fired it.

Another arrow joined it, and this one slammed harmlessly against the magical barrier that Dorian casted around the Inquisitor.

He spun his staff in a giant arc, twirling it in midair. Electricity arced in the throne room. Lightning raced along the group, striking several of them. Varric sprang forward with Bianca, and fired. Repeatedly pressing the trigger. Among his victims were the two rogues.

Dorian's fire wall sprang up in the midst of the group. Several of their members began screaming.

The survivors, those still scrambling around leapt forward. Most of them were warriors still, drew their swords.

The Inquisition forces drew theirs and leapt to meet their opposite numbers in a clash of steel and silverite. The weapons sparked. Bodies fell on both sides of the hall.

Cassandra joined the fray slashing her Two Handed sword across one of the warriors, cleaving them in two as they had just killed one of the Inquisition's soldiers.

A bolt of lightning which summoned itself from Benjamin struck the leader of their opponents. He hissed and stumbled backwards. But, he was still unbent.

Off to the side more Inquisition soldiers sprung into the hall drawing his attention. They were now badly outnumbered.

Yet the man smiled, Cassandra fell back to guard Benjamin, and the man was smiling at them.

Benjamin felt himself tense and lurch forward. The man plunged his hand into his side and plucked out something round, and red looking. He held it up and it started to glow.

Cassandra tackled Benjamin around the waist and pulled him down, flinging him to the ground.

The device exploded in the man's hand, shrapnel went everywhere, flying red shrapnel. The vanguard of Inquisition soldiers took the brunt, Ben was on the ground, and Varric and Dorian had a barrier up.

The Vanguard though was not so lucky. Screams of pain and horror, almost as if they were burning.

Benjamin looked at one of the men who had toppled over, his face contorting in a mask of horror.

There were red shards glittering his face.

The red shards of Red Lyrium.