Chapter 24

Fabien stretched his aching back, twisting sideways in his saddle to alleviate the pain throughout his body. He kicked his feet from his stirrups and let his long legs hang loosely down the sides of his horse. The placid animal flicked an ear back at him but did not react further. Fabien wiggled his feet and toes, bouncing them lightly against the horse's flanks to see what would happen. The animal paid him no mind, having grown accustomed to his antics over the past weeks. The caravan was travelling at a sensibly moderate pace, trying to save the animals and men for the swiftly approaching battle. As the Commander had reminded the men countless times, "Once we get there, there will be no time for rest... It'll be straight to work."

Fabien rolled his eyes, he'd heard the statement so often that even in his thoughts he could hear the Commander's voice. It irritated him. Something about the man had recently really started to rub him the wrong way. Fabien couldn't place his finger on it, but Erik had suggested it had to do with his deepening relationship with Elena. Fabien had dismissed the idea, it was clear to him that he and Elena still had something. What she saw in the older man he had no idea. Why would a young girl be so drawn to someone like Cullen Rutherford? Sure, the man had rank, an impressive title, and no obvious character flaws… he was positively boring.

Fabien shook his head, slapping his hands on his cheeks to jar himself from this train of thought. He had promised himself he would not brood. Brooding did him no good. Elena was a grown woman and brooding had never suited her tastes. He smiled, sending himself back to sunlit days in Ostwick. They had spent many afternoons in the gardens of the Circle sparring with each other and having deep conversations. He remembered falling in love with her in those moments, watching her face light up when she spoke about her ambitions, hearing the zeal in her voice for a life she desperately wanted, but knew she could never have due to the misfortune of being born female. He enjoyed watching her determinedly work her way into being viewed as an equal among the Templars despite her noble birth and femininity. He took greater pleasure in helping her thwart her father and mother's schemes to marry her off and turn her into a respectable lady. Imagine, Elena, a respectable lady. He chuckled, thinking of her in a stately manor house surrounded by obedient servants and a toad-like husband with a gaggle of unruly children tugging at her skirts. Horrible life.

Presently, Porteur trotted up to his side and drew his attention away from his reverie. "Shaw, do you know how much longer we have to endure this torturous travelling?" The Orlesian swordsman asked impatiently. His horse tossed its head as if emphasizing its rider's mood.

Fabien pulled out his spyglass and looked towards the head of the caravan, considering what he knew of their location, the length of the journey, and the size of the army and its speed before replying, "I'd say another night. Maybe two."

"How many days? My bum feels as if it's going to fuse with my saddle."

Fabien collapsed the spy glass, "The rest of today, all of tomorrow, and maybe half of the next day. Of course, I'm not the best at estimating this kind of thing. You should ask Reeves. She has more experience than any of us travelling like this, being Dalish and all."

Porteur slumped forward on his horse, pressing his face into its mane in frustration, "I did that first. She told me much the same as you." He moaned dramatically rolling his face to where Fabien could see it fully, "If we don't get there by then, I think I'll go stark-raving mad!"

"Porteur stop bothering the Lieutenant. He's very busy." Reeves admonished coming up on the opposite side of Porteur and bodily hoisting him upright in his saddle. "Sit properly and you won't have so many aches and pains."

"I appreciate your concern, Reeves, but I don't think any of us will be busy until we make camp tonight." Fabien dropped his reins and reached over his head and backwards, feeling the muscles in his lower back grow taut with tension. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, pressing his hands farther backwards so he bent like a bow. Porteur mimicked him, letting out an unseemly noise at the relief it gave him.

"Maker have mercy, Porteur." Fabien intoned, "We're in mixed company. Show some restraint."

Porteur let his arms drop and rolled his shoulders around, "Aw, it's just Reeves. She's heard better."

Reeves nodded sagely, "I've caused better." The three of them burst into giggles at Reeves's somewhat bawdy admission. Fabien pressed his hands against his horse's shoulders as he bent forward, gaining control of himself again. "The Commander is coming." Reeves hissed out and all three of them snapped back to proper behavior as swiftly as if she had prodded them with a hot iron. Fabien shifted in his saddle again as the Commander, Leliana, and Erik trotted by doing an inspection. The latter pair's eyes slid over Fabien and his squadron with the detachment born of expertise and repetition. Erik's bright blue eyes settled on Fabien's face and he pulled his horse around to walk beside Fabien's for a moment.

"Inquisitor." Fabien greeted, not wholly unaware of Leliana and Cullen's sharpened gaze on him.

Erik reached out and pushed him, knocking Fabien slightly askew in the saddle, "Don't you go 'Inquisitor'-ing me now. How's the ride? How are your men holding up? How are you holding up?"

Fabien shrugged, "Porteur's going mad, Reeves is making off-color jokes, and the rest are enduring in their own manners. Morale is decent enough amongst us here in the middle of the column. I'd worry more about the rear."

Erik stroked his chin thoughtfully, "That seems to be the consensus among the troops, which is why we're making the rounds."

"Let me guess… The Iron Bull suggested it?"

"Not directly. He said something to me when we first got to Skyhold about getting in touch with the men, trying to make myself seem less like a man from a myth or whatever. I'm not sure I understood him exactly, but I don't see any harm in showing myself to the troops when I've the time. My army is quite large now and I'm sure most of the men don't even know what I look like." Erik paused; Fabien waited patiently "Anyway, it's only fair they know who I am before I ask them to die for me, right?"

"Yes. That does seem like the least you can do." Fabien agreed, looking over Erik's shoulder at the Commander and Leliana who were getting to be a good bit back from them now. "Your entourage is falling behind."

Erik rolled his head back on his neck to look behind him, "So they are. I guess that's my cue to leave, then?"

"It isn't. It's just that you're cramping my style." Fabien reached out and pushed Erik, sending him scrabbling for a grip on his saddle horn. "Come find me after supper and we can spar if you want."

"I think I will." Fabien saluted the Inquisitor as he gathered his reins up, "See you at camp!" Erik replied, wheeling his horse and trotting back to the Commander and Leliana. The pair of them immediately started in on the younger Trevelyan as they all resumed their patrol to the back of the column.

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Cullen sighed heavily, leaning on his travel desk, looking at the map of the Arbor Wilds they had managed to piece together from scattered mentions of the Wild in the library and the reports from Leliana's scouts, he couldn't be too cross. What I wouldn't give for at least one clear path through the place. He shook his head, rubbing a hand across his eyes wearily. Crafting battle plans with hardly any knowledge of the lay of the land was as difficult as it had sounded at the War Table. Still, he had to have something when they arrived in a few days' time or the results could be disastrous. There was no easily evident solution to his problem.

Deciding to take a risk, he jotted a few notes down, drew a few possible troop formations and movements, performed some calculations for trebuchet trajectories and placements, and decided that that was enough for the time being. His stomach was growling loudly at him and he wouldn't be able to assess if his new ideas were feasible and practical until he had stopped its rumbling. He hoped this latest set of plans was better than the last ones. Leliana had easily torn them apart with a few well-placed enemy scouts. Pitting himself against her cunning was the closest he could get to Corypheus, although it was always hard to plan for a dragon showing up at any moment. He was optimistic that the dragon would not make an appearance at this battle due to the density of the forest.

He shook himself from his musings, trying to force himself into taking a real break and think of different things. It was difficult. There wasn't anything around him that didn't spark thoughts about what lay ahead of them. He managed to focus on the smell of cooking meat emanating from the nearest cook-tent and found himself standing in line behind a helmed soldier. He followed behind the soldier quietly until one of the cooks noticed him and came rushing out from the serving line with a bowl of stew and a hunk of crusty bread in hand. Cullen tried to dodge it, tried to pass it off to the soldier in front of him, but the cook would have none of it. He shoved the bowl into Cullen's hands and turned him about, muttering about how the Commander was never to be kept waiting for hot food if it could be helped, tutting and fussing the whole time while he pushed Cullen away back towards his tent.

Cullen begrudgingly went. He cradled the soup in his hands and walked with slow, measured steps back to his tent. When he got there, he was surprised to see Lieutenant Shaw outside, waiting on him. The Lieutenant was seated with his back against the center pole, one long leg pulled up near his chest, an arm slung casually over the knee. His head was leaned back against the pole and his eyes were closed. It appeared to Cullen that he was taking a nap. He went and sat on a rock nearby to eat. Meanwhile, the Lieutenant continued his basking. Cullen ate his stew and watched the bustle of the camp around him. It had been a long time since he had sat still and enjoyed a meal of any kind. The sun was setting fully now and the first tinges of blue-gray twilight gripped at the corners of the day. His stew and bread finished, he stood kicking at the Lieutenant's extended foot.

Lieutenant Shaw's eyes opened and he smirked, "I was wondering when you would do something about me. Am I in your way, Commander?"

It occurred to Cullen that he had not been napping at all. He chose to ignore the baiting remark and instead said, "What did you need from me besides an opportunity to laze about?"

"Aw come on, it's only been a few minutes! I'm not lazy. My entire platoon was settled in for the night before anyone else's. They're either running drills or maintaining their gear right now. I came by to see if you had the watch schedule for the night. My men would like to know so they can get to sleep or dinner."

Cullen frowned, "You could have asked Rylen."

Shaw shrugged, "I could have, but he's kind of busy in the Western Approach running Griffon Wing Keep for you, right now."

"Of course…" He muttered, shuffling through his papers. "Here you are." He handed over the watch list to Shaw. He noticed that the younger man had to stoop to not brush his head against the roof of the tent. Cullen's own head just barely grazed it. He often forgot that Lieutenant Shaw was an absolute giant of a man. He had a leaner frame than someone of his size would logically seem to need which made him appear smaller than he was. Still, Cullen had rarely seen someone with such a natural aptitude for the mace as Shaw.

Shaw sighed and shoved a hand through his hair, "I'm too drained to remember all of this. You mind if I copy it over to take with me?" He didn't really wait for a reply before stepping past Cullen and taking up a quill. He did pause and wait for Cullen to nod his head before beginning to write the watch list out. "How's the battle plan going?" He asked nonchalantly as he wrote.

Cullen let out an involuntary groan.

"That good, huh?" Shaw snorted, sticking the quill back in its inkpot and sprinkling some sand on the wet paper.

Cullen sat down on a stool and pushed his face in his hands, "I feel as if I've been set an impossible task."

Shaw rolled up the parchment and tucked it in his belt, "I don't envy you. I used to have to do that kind of thing in the Order. It was awful. Of course, it wasn't nearly as high-stakes as what you're doing." He let out a breath of laughter, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably, "But, uh, anyway… I'll let you get back to it. Let me know if you need me."

An idea sparked in Cullen's mind, "Lieutenant!" He called after the retreating man.

Shaw stopped and looked back at him over his shoulder, a bright smile flashing in his dark, close-cropped beard, "Just when I thought I was out. You pulled me right back in." He teased. Cullen swallowed, was he always this way? He had never really spent any one-on-one time with the Lieutenant, but he was starting to see why Elena and Erik found him so charming.

"Lieutenant Shaw, have you much vanguard experience?" The Lieutenant's smile dropped and he became somber immediately. The blue-gray of twilight had gone entirely to be replaced by the beginning of the inky black of night, cut only by the bright glow of nearby campfires and torches. They were falsely cheerful as the soldiers milled about finishing up their chores and settling into their hard-earned meals. There wasn't much chatter from the men and women in the camp now that they were so close to the Arbor Wilds. It was as if the night had creeped in and stolen their sense of well-being.

Shaw remained silent, his broad shoulders belying the deep breaths he was taking. At length, Cullen heard him take an extra-large breath and release it slowly, "Yes." His voice was plain and without emotion. He removed his mace from his belt and spun the head of it in his palm, weighing the weapon experimentally. "Do you want me to lead it?"

Cullen nodded, stepping up to place a hand on the larger man's shoulder. "I don't think many of my troops have the kind of experience you have. If we are to succeed in this endeavor, we will need the best leadership possible. I'd lead it myself, but I'm sure you understand why that isn't possible."

Shaw nodded, "Of course, sir. Is that all?"

Cullen felt baffled. How had this man gone from making jokes and quips at every opportunity to this serious soldier? The vanguard was the most dangerous position, but someone with his skill set and experience would be able to handle it easily. "Yes, Lieutenant, that's all for now."

The Lieutenant shrugged out from underneat his hand, "Very good, sir. I'll await further orders. In the meantime, I'll deliver the watch list and start readying my troops."

"I'm going to assign you an additional platoon, maybe more, for this assignment."

"Very good, sir. Am I dismissed?" Cullen nodded, "Thank you, sir. Have a pleasant evening." Shaw walked away through the pools of firelight. Cullen watched him go before returning to his tent and his plans which felt a lot more achievable now with an experienced hand in the vanguard.

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Fabien grimaced, checking around himself for any more Red Templars. This patch of riverbed was cleared, but further to his right he could hear the sounds of fighting interspersed with shouts of surprise. Motioning to Reeves and Porteur, they gathered the remaining members of their platoon, leaving a few behind to tend to the wounded, and jogged off to the join the fray. Fabien couldn't help but feel exhausted. It had been a harrowing ordeal to get this far into the Arbor Wilds. There were many challenges to overcome.

First, the vegetation made troop movements nearly impossible without first sending a clear-cutting group. Second, was the Red Templars themselves. They were smart enough under Samson's command to leave behind contingencies of soldiers as fodder for the approaching, and growing, Inquisition army. And now, after weeks of trudging through the wilderness of Thedas, when they were so close to their goal he could practically smell it, they were being besieged by the quickest, most elusive, wiliest warriors he had ever faced.

He couldn't believe it when the first one appeared and sliced the throat of the man in front of him, sending the soldier to the ground in a spray of scarlet and a choked cry of surprise to never move again. He had been thankful for the shield on his arm when another one materialized on his side, slashing with enough ferocity to grate a shriek from the metal plates on the shield. Fabien had recovered quickly and smashed the rogue's shoulder with his black flanged mace as it tried to out maneuver him. Despite his size, Fabien had always been agile in combat, but these new foes were testing his limits.

He had watched his men in his peripheral as they were struck down in that first, vicious wave. It seemed that there were only two attackers and he had been thankful for it. The one he had injured trailed blood, belying his presence even when cloaked with splashed of red against the vibrant green foliage. Reeves had done him in when Porteur gave a triumphant shout down the way. Fabien had cast a glance down there to see Porteur removing the burden of his sword from the unlucky attacker. They gathered together to reconvene and take on a new formation. It had proved useful and effective despite forcing some people to walk backwards or sideways like crabs. They were no longer surprised by the unfamiliar foes.

Attending to the path ahead fully again, Fabien looked around for areas that could provide cover for any amount of soldiers to ambush them. His party was much smaller than it had been at the start of this final push to whatever Elven temple lay ahead. Seeing no likely places, he relaxed a little. The rest of his men picked up on his mood and relaxed some themselves. The Arbor Wilds were positively breath-taking in their appearance and Fabien found himself admiring the natural beauty of their surroundings. Elena would love it here. He could picture her with her raven black hair and fair skin positively glowing amid all the greenery. She'd put this all to shame. His heart wrenched with the knowledge that she had proclaimed her love to the Commander. He hadn't meant to over-hear their exchange, but he had been loitering about waiting for his chance to remind her of his own love for her when it happened. She was so caught up in watching him that she hadn't noticed Fabien slip past her.

He sighed heavily, spinning his mace in his grip. His shield arm was beginning to ache which was never a good thing. He could do a lot with his mace and armor but not without a shield. Not with this new unforeseen enemy roaming about attacking without a sound and a puff of smoke.

SNAP!

The sound of a twig breaking to the left sent everyone into defensive stances. Fabien shifted his shield into a slightly more comfortable position on his arm. He tightened his grip on his mace, the leather-wrapped handle creaking beneath his iron grasp. Fabien could feel the muscles in his upper body pulled as tight as bowstrings as they waited. The world was frozen. Nobody seemed to even breathe. The shallow river they followed was silent as it bubbled over the stones and logs in its path. Then, it struck.

Porteur went down, clutching at his calf. Reeves lurched towards him, but was stopped by a Templar arrow catching her in the knee. She fell to the ground, howling. Meanwhile, the shadowed enemy that had wounded Porteur slew another soldier. The Templars were now upon them in force and the shadowed enemy had more to deal with. Fabien lost track of everything as he engaged in the battle. He focused only on himself and his mace. Everyone else would have to worry about themselves until he could look outside his circle again. He quickly figured out where the Templars' archer was and zeroed in on the man.

The archer fired arrow after arrow at Fabien, trying desperately to outmaneuver him as Fabien made his inexorable approach. He batted aside the other Red Templars who tried to distract him. The other members of his party pulled the Red Templars' attention away from Fabien. Eventually, he reached the archer, having managed in his approach to back the man between a tree trunk and a large boulder. He hadn't intended to, but it was advantageous none-the-less. The archer, realizing now was no time for a ranged weapon, dropped his bow and pulled a wicked looking long knife from his belt. Fabien eyed the blade warily.

Something that sharp was deserving of respect. He was good with his mace, but a man with a long knife was still faster. He had the man cornered but for how long? He had no idea how the fight behind him was going and couldn't risk a glance. He could be the last Inquisition soldier standing or this could be the last Red Templar. And what of the shadowed one? Had it been killed? Was it lurking nearby waiting for an opportune moment to kill them both? The archer tossed the knife between his hands nervously. Amateur. Fabien thought derisively from a distant place in his mind. An experienced fighter wouldn't do such a thing in a moment like this. Had it only been a moment? It felt like days.

Cursing himself for his tunnel vision, Fabien decided to attack and have done with it. This questioning game he'd gotten himself into was tiresome and dangerous. Action was better.

He darted forward, mace at the ready, sure of himself. The archer moved at the same time. They came together, their weapons locking. The knife caught in the flanges of the mace, jarring Fabien's arm and surprising the archer. He took the chance and crashed his helmed head into the archer's leather capped one as hard as he could. It was sickening, the feeling of the metal helmet smashing against the soft leather cap. The archer let out some kind of horrible pained noise and stumbled backwards, letting go of the stuck knife and clutching at his skull with both hands. A puff of smoke appeared behind him as he recoiled away from Fabien, and the archer fell beneath the blade of the shadowed enemy. For the first time, Fabien got a good look at it. It wasn't a new kind of enemy at all. It was an elf!

Fabien groaned. He hated fighting elves. They were too tricky and quick for him. He raised his mace and slung it down powerfully, sending the knife hurtling towards the elf. Impressive as the move was, the elf was gone in another puff of smoke before the blade left the grips of the mace. And then Fabien was flying through the air. He landed heavily on his side and rolled several feet before coming to a stop. He scrambled to get up, but a massive weight landed on top of him, pinning him to the damp, leaf carpeted ground. He flailed about with his hands searching for something to use as a weapon since the throw had caused him to let go of his weapon. His shield was still attached but was virtually useless from this angle. He could smell the fetid stench of a corrupted Templar Rogue as it seemed to gloat over his prone form from its position on his back. He could feel the hot Red Lyrium spikes that were its hands pressing against either side of his neck. His fingers scrabbled in the leaves frantically. He couldn't – wouldn't die this way… on his stomach, no weapon, no way to fight back, no faint hope of survival!

He closed his eyes and thought of Elena. Of all the things he'd not told her. The things he'd kept buried deep inside. He was filled with regret and anger and sorrow, but mostly loneliness. He lay still and accepted his fate.

There was a feral snarl, a rapid thump of feet, and then the weight was gone from him. Fabien couldn't believe it. He reacted instinctively, getting to his feet quickly if not gracefully. He located the nearest weapon, a sword in the back of a dead man, and retrieved it with a loud slurping sound and a sensation of suction that made him feel slightly nauseous. He leapt back into the fray and was greeted with a puff of smoke just in front of him. He gritted his teeth together and took the sword's hilt in both hands. As the shadowed elf fully came into view, Fabien dashed forward, over extending his reach and felt the blade drive home. It slid into and out of the elf's body with horrible ease as Fabien wrenched himself back up right, his feet slipping on the damp leaves underfoot. The elf turned around and looked at him with shocked strange, golden eyes. His face was more statuesque than the other elves Fabien had seen, accented by twisting vines of delicately purple Vallaslin. The elf was taller and leaner with more sharply pointed ears than other elves as well. It said something in Elvish and fell into a heap on the ground. Fabien shuddered and stepped quickly around the dead elf. The corrupted rogue and his rescuer were still fighting and Fabien could tell that the person who had rescued him was struggling.

He readjusted his grip on the sword and charged back into the fight. He was tiring quickly as well and the rogue still seemed as fresh as a daisy. Fabien did some quick thinking and adjusted his course to better flank the rogue. There wasn't much room to maneuver where they were at now. The river widened at this point and Fabien didn't fancy fighting in the water if he could avoid it, but if he could push the rogue into the water then he and the other Inquisition soldier would have an easier time dispatching the agile creature. This plan, like most plans, was easier said than done. The other soldier was clearly exhausted as they weakly blocked the rogue's attacks. They were rapidly slowing. Fabien decided to throw his plan to the wind and lowered his head, tucked himself behind his shield, and charged forward into the rogue's side with all the speed and force he could muster. The rogue toppled into the river. Fabien tripped over him and went crashing into the water as well. Once again, he felt his weapon slide from his grasp. Cursing, he hoisted himself to his feet, pulling a river stone out of the water with him. He spun to face the rogue in time to witness the other soldier drive a sword into the back of its neck, killing it.

The forest grew peaceful around them. Fabien could hear the labored breathing of the other soldier. He felt and heard the water running past his legs. The other soldier sank to their knees in the river, arms limp by their side. Several yards up the path from them, Fabien could see the remainder of his soldiers gathering their wounded together. He dropped his river stone with a kersploosh! And went over to the soldier he owed his life to. Wordlessly, he slippepd an arm around the man and lifted him to his feet again. It was far easier than he had anticipated. He peered at the man closely and realized that this soldier was a woman.

"We make a good team, don't we?" He asked lightly, trying to think of who this could be. Reeves was upstream with an arrow in her knee. Solomon and Watson had been left at the last contingency because they were growing dangerously weary. Juniper and Fox had been struck down in the first skirmish. He could see Arenaver, Shanks, and Greycastle up the path tending to the wounded. I only had eight women in my command today… right?

"Yes, Lietenant." The soldier responded sending a shiver of recognition down Fabien's spine. Even though the voice was hoarse and lowered, he knew it. He'd heard it whisper in too many hidden alcoves as they hid together. Listened to it tell him all of its most secret desires and dreams. He'd heard it in anger, joy, fear, sadness, and everywhere in between.

"Sweet Andraste Bride of the Maker…" He let the words fall like stones around them, coming to a stop a scant three feet from the rest of his men. He stepped around to the front of the soldier and gripped her by her shoulders. He bent and looked into the depths of the helmed face to see two bright, ice blue eyes glaring at him, daring him to say what he knew was to be true. He removed one hand from her shoulders and lifted her helmet off. Raven black hair tumbled out, falling down her back in a long braid, curled tendrils sticking to the sweat on her cheeks and forehead. There she was. She glowered up at him in stubborn, defiant anger. "Elena Trevelyan. What have you done?"

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Erik rubbed his hands over his face hard enough to make spots dance behind his eyelids. He couldn't think clearly. This was unprecedented. How was he supposed to react? He removed his hands from his face and looked at Cullen helplessly. The Commander stared back at him, his face impassive, not even a flicker of emotion hid behind his golden eyes. What were they going to do? Standing, hands bound behind her back, in front of them was Elena. She had the gore of battle splattered across her armor. Her scabbard hung empty and loose at her side. She did not seem ashamed. No, she seemed more irritated than anything else. This bothered him. She had been grossly insubordinate and nearly got herself killed in the process. He didn't even care what she had been in the process of doing, because he was certain it was for some petty, childish reason. Elena was twenty one, almost twenty two, and she had always acted willfully and without forethought. He should have left Fabien at Skyhold with her instead of bringing him to the Arbor Wilds.

But Fabien had proved instrumental in their push to the Temple of Sorrows. He had done more with two platoons than he had seen other men do with a whole company in more forgiving lands. It wasn't Fabien's fault that Elena had done this. When questioned, Fabien had denied any knowledge of her joining the caravan. He had not known she was even with his platoon since Cullen had added the new troops in the night before. He hadn't had a chance to introduce himself to everyone. If that hadn't been enough to convince him, the way Fabien had treated Elena when he delivered her to Erik would have been evidence enough. Erik could not remember a single time where the brawny Templar had been genuinely angry with her. He had not been unkind, but he hadn't been delicate with her either. Erik could tell Fabien had his emotions in an iron grip, but it had felt tenuous at best. He had pushed her before her into the tent and stated the facts only answering questions in short statements and sentences. There was no joking or playfulness about him.

Erik looked back at the Commander. He wondered what he was thinking, but he didn't dare say a word. Something about the ramrod straight back and squared shoulders told him that the Commander was feeling much the same way that Fabien had. There really wasn't a clear solution to this problem. Normally, this kind of behavior was dealt with by either exile or execution. Erik couldn't possibly be expected to execute his own sister. He also couldn't bring himself to exile her. Where would he even exile her to? The Inquisition held no formal lands, nor did she. He went back to rubbing his face. The arrows in his quiver clacked together reminding him of the ordeal that still lay before him. He didn't have time for this. Cullen didn't have time for this. Nobody did. If only he could delay this judgment until they were done here…

Erik dropped his hands, "Commander." Cullen flicked his eyes over to him, "I'm sending her back to Skyhold to await my judgment on this matter."

Cullen nodded, "That seems to be the only logical course of action at this point. She has placed us in a… difficult position."

Erik moved to the tent flap and poked his head outside. Dorian, the Iron Bull, Blackwall, and Fabien all stood in a circle conversing quietly with each other. "Lieutenant." He called. Fabien craned his head backwards to look at Erik upside down, exasperation evident on his face. "Don't give me that look. Come here."

Fabien rolled his eyes and whipped around. He walked over, clearly perturbed. "Yes, Inquisitor?"

Erik stepped fully out of the tent and pulled Fabien down closer to him so he could speak in a low voice, "I've orders for you. Direct from me." Fabien's eyebrow twitched upwards. He was curious. Erik continued, "You and your men are spent. You're of no further use to us here. You're to gather what soldiers you have that are fit for travel and escort Elena back to Skyhold. When you arrive, you are to place her under house arrest in her quarters. She is to go nowhere until she has faced trial."

Fabien's eyes grew wide, "Trial? You'd put her through that?"

Erik nodded, "I can't play favorites forever. I've been trying not to, but she's my sister and it's damned near impossible with her to do otherwise. You know how she is." Fabien nodded sagely. "I can't be seen outwardly to give her special treatment in this. If I were to, Fabien I'd lose the Inquisition's respect and then where would we be?"

"I didn't mean to imply that you were going to brush this all under the rug, Erik. I'm just surprised you're handling it so publicly. Elena has gone too far. I support you and your decisions in this. She'll receive no special treatment from me or my men."

Erik patted his shoulder. "Thank you, my friend. I wouldn't be able to attend to what's coming if I were to send her with anyone else." He glanced behind Fabien to where Dorian and the others stood impatiently waiting for him. "I think if I delay this push into the Temple of Sorrows any longer, my mage will come and drag me along by the hair." Erik could imagine the feel of Dorian's strong hands gripping at his scalp and felt a chill run down his spine. It wasn't wholly unpleasant. "Although, I might like him to."

"That's too much information, Erik." Fabien responded stepping back from him, "Please, keep those details to yourself in the future, yeah? There are some things our friendship just isn't ready for."

Erik chuckled, moving past him towards Dorian, "I'll see you when I return to Skyhold. Good luck with Elena."

"I can handle her. Good luck with Samson. Be careful out there."

"I'll do my best." Erik replied over his shoulder. He slung an arm around Dorian, pulling the mage close to him for a brief moment, "Are you ready for this?" he asked his companions.

Dorian smiled confidently at him, "Does an Abyssal High Dragon live in the desert?"

Erik grinned wolfishly at him, "Not anymore."

"Let's go kick some ass!" Iron Bull chimed in, pulling his great axe from his back and swinging it around. The four of them turned as one and jogged off down the road and into the uncertainty of the Arbor Wilds. Erik pushed all thoughts of his sister to the back of his mind and locked them into place. This was not the time nor was it the place. He would take care of problems one at a time. One at a time...

Author's Note: HELLO EVERYONE! It's been six months and I've another chapter for you. To say this school year has consumed me is an understatement. I worked on this chapter largely in the notes section of my phone on breaks at work and when I was dealing with insomnia. I rewrote it... oh, I don't know, a few times. I played with several different ending choices for Elena and the gang. I have a good idea of how this whole thing is going to play out because I came to the realization that this particular decision of hers is verging on the unforgivable. Don't worry! It's summer summer time, and I've gotten enough rest now that my creative brain can come out.

I know I've gotten LOTS of new followers and favorites! THANK YOU! The support I have for this is far greater than what I ever expected it to be and I am so blessed to have it. I am glad that my "little" story has grown to be so large in length and readership. I'm just pleased as punch for how this is going. Thank you doesn't begin to express my gratitude for all of you out there.

With that said, I wish you all a wonderful summer and an excellent week! Peace and Blessings! -Danbamina