WARNINGS: Violence, blood and gore

MEIRA

I watched on as the templars arrived at the docks of the Gallows. Fighting and shouting could be heard within the courtyard. Signs of magic being used were everywhere: patches of ice, scorch marks on the sandstone, cracks and chips along the ground and walls. Meredith led the templars within, finding Hawke and her companions staring after Orsino and a few mages as they climbed the stairs into the tower proper, mages lying dead upon the them.
Templars were giving chase, blades and shields out, many of their brethren dead as well. It must have been the templars that had remained at the tower while the rest had followed Meredith in to the city or already been on patrol there. Orsino ushered the bulk of the mages inside, magic flaring in his hands and through his staff as he attacked the templars. One fell dead upon the stairs, the other flew threw the air, landing dead at Hawke's feet.

Hawke looked up to where Orsino stood. "First Enchanter!"

"Stay back," Orsino warned her, "I don't want to fight you!"

"And here you are!" Meredith shouted as they entered.

Orsino descended at her arrival, using his staff as a walking stick. The surviving mages stayed behind him, Bethany among them, staves at the ready, faces wary. "Let us speak, Meredith! Before this battle destroys the city you claim to protect!"

"I will entertain a surrender, nothing more," Meredith stated as she approached him.

Hawke stepped back, Orsino and Meredith facing off. Thunder sounded overhead, lightning cracking through the sky, as the mages and templars met each other in the courtyard. The tension was palpable, the city once again on bated breath. They were silent a moment, but Meredith was the first to speak. Cullen to her side, watching on.

"Speak if you have something to say," she offered, her eyes unrelenting.

"Revoke the Right of Annulment, Meredith," Orsino requested, "before this goes too far. Imprison us, if you must. Search the tower. I will even help you." He stepped towards her, the Templars' hands going to the hilts of their swords.
"But do not kill us all for an act we did not commit."

"The grand cleric is dead, killed by a mage," Meredith began, her hand on the hilt of her sword, "The people will demand retribution, and I will give it to them." Orsino shook his head and turned away from her. As she spoke again, her voice softened a fraction, but was still unyielding.
"Your offer is commendable, Orsino, but it comes too late."

Hawke spoke, stepping towards the both of them, a hand reaching out, desperate for a solution. "We can still prevent this, before you both tear Kirkwall apart."

"You heard her," Orsino breathed, voice full of resignation, "She's wanted this all along."

"It is already torn apart," Meredith looked to Hawke, eyes sorrowful, as she shook her head, "We cannot divert from our path."

"And me?" Bethany appealed to Hawke, her brown eyes full of fear. She looked to her sister and then to Cullen. "Will you let them kill me? Will you continue to do nothing, until all lie dead around you?"

Marian looked to her sister, despair beginning to creep into her face as she realized what was happening. That there would be no stopping the coming violence. Cullen met Bethany's gaze a moment before averting his own.

"Stay strong, child," Orsino spoke, his voice gentle, "We must make a stand together, or we are all lost."

Bethany continued to look at her sister and Cullen, but neither spoke. "I…yes, First Enchanter."

At those words, she turned her back on them and went to stand with the mages. Marian looked at them all, panic in her eyes.
It dawned on me that I was not seeing what Varric had written, had described in his book. He had written what painted Hawke in the best light. But in this, in Cullen's memories, I was seeing it without Varric's bias.

"What will you choose, Champion?" Meredith asked. "To fight with us or defend the mages?"

Marian stared at her, a sadness coloring her features. "Bethany is all the family I have left."

"So what is it to be, Meredith?" Orsino questioned, cutting in before Marian could make her decision, "Do we fight here?"

Meredith walked towards him, "Go, prepare your people. The rest of the Order is already crossing the harbor."

Orsino's face became livid as he spit, "This isn't over!"

Turning away, he led the mages into The Gallows. Hawke stood a moment, looking between them, uncertainty upon her face. "Knight-Commander, what is your intention here?"

"This is not the first time the Right of Annulment has ever been invoked," Meredith explained as she turned away, looking out to the burning Kirkwall, "We will do as others have done before us: start again." She stood a moment, quiet, before turning. "Kirkwall will be rebuilt, stronger than before. And the Circle will know fear." Cullen looked to Meredith at those words, his brow knitting. Meredith strode back to the stairs. "This has been a long time coming. I am eager to begin."

Marian looked at her in horror. "You're asking me to help you annihilate the entire Circle in retribution for the actions of one mage?"

"It was not one mage," Meredith argued, slicing a hand through the air, "It has been the actions of many, over many years. Apostates, blood mages, the Mage Underground. Anders was merely the culmination of a disease that has been allowed to fester in this city for too long. It is time we end it and ensure it never happens again."

"But why must they all answer for this?"

"Because it has gone too far," Meredith answered, "There is no other course of action. We must fulfill our duty to the citizens of Kirkwall. We must defend the innocent."

"And the innocent mages? What of them? Have you not sworn to protect them as well?" Hawke challenged.

"My duty is first to the vulnerable people of this city," Meredith said again, "I stand between them and the dangers of magic. They will demand justice. I give it to them and grant the mages merciful deaths in one swift move. If I do not, the people of Kirkwall would break down the gates of this keep and do it themselves. The slaughter…would be immeasurable."

"So you kill them for what might happen? You kill them so the people won't riot? How is that mercy?" Marian looked at all the templars, her eyes landing on Cullen. "Is this what the Templar Order stands for? What you swore yourselves to?"

His gold-brown eyes met her pleading ones. Doubt flickered in his face. "I…"

"Ser Cullen," Meredith bit, "I suggest you remember our purpose."

"I—Yes, Knight Commander," Cullen nodded.

Marian looked between the two of them a moment longer. Letting out a deep sigh, her face became angry. She pinned Cullen down with a look before grabbing one of the daggers from her back. "Have it your way, Meredith. I will not stand between you and your duty, but I will not stand with you while you do it. I am here for my sister. I will find her and defend her, whatever it takes and whomever else it involves."

"Then whatever comes is upon your head," Meredith called to Marian as she walked away.

They watched as she and the others ascended the stairs. Thunder rumbled again, lightning fracturing the clouds made of smoke and storms. Rain began to fall, the droplets making the templars' armor ping. The rest of the Order sailed across the harbor, filing in to the courtyard and coming to stand at attention with the others.

Meredith raised her voice as she addressed her soldiers, "Let me tell you what is about to happen. We have the unenviable task of entering the Gallows and eliminating every mage we find within. You must harden your hearts. The magic within them is a disease that, if left unchecked, will spread and fester. We will do what we must. Maker have mercy on their souls."

She directed them all as to how she wanted them to go about the attack, dividing them into groups. Giving them time to mentally prepare themselves and to beseech the Maker and Andraste. Cullen stood off to one side, a few of the templars approached him.

"Knight-Captain," Ruvena began, removing her helmet. Her blue eyes met his, doubt on her face. "Is this…I know it is our duty, but is this truly necessary? Does the Knight-Commander have the authority?" Keran was beside her, seeking answers as well.

Cullen was silent a moment, but when he spoke, he kept his voice low. "With the death of the Grand Cleric and the rest of the heads of our local Chantry, the Knight-Commander is within the legal right to call for an annulment of the Circle. She is now the greatest authority in the city." He sighed, lowering his voice more.
"The Right of Annulment was invoked and nearly carried out upon the Circle of Ferelden when I was younger. There, it would have been justified. Demons and abominations overran the whole tower. Here, it's…much harder to tell who's in the wrong." Confusion lit their faces.
"I hope Meredith knows what she's doing," he admitted, "I will do what she commands of me, we all will…but something about this isn't right. I hope we can resolve this quickly and with little bloodshed. I am not looking forward to this."

"Little bloodshed?" Keran questioned, his voice angry, "Meredith just called us to eliminate every mage within. How could there be little bloodshed?"

Cullen weighed the question. "There are exceptions to the Right. I will only strike down those who fight. Those who surrender…if any surrender…" He looked to the two of them. "You must steel yourselves for what is to come. We all must."

They passed around supplies and lyrium. A final check upon their armor and weapons, last orders given out, Meredith turned her steely gaze to the gate at the top of the stairs. Weapons drawn, thunder booming over head, rain coming down harder, together, they began their assault.
Bronze statues of slaves kneeling in fear and submission, chains upon their necks, heads covered by their hands, were at the templars' feet as they ascended the stairs. The bronze ravens that towered above them looked down in judgment. Crimson flags emblazoned with the symbol of The Gallows unfurled, looking like blood on the wind. The gate to the mages' section was all that stood in their way.

Meredith stood before it, glaring. "Break it down."

The templars rushed forward, lyrium-enabled abilities helping them to make quick work of it. Breaking through, they poured down the stairs into the mages' courtyard like rushing water. Battle cries sounding as the mages answered. Those at the front backed away at the templars' fervor.
One woman summoned her magic, but before she could attack, a templar drove their blade into her gut, punching through her back. Magic flew at the soldiers, shields blocking while other spells found their marks. Some of the mages wouldn't attack, but it didn't matter. The templars broke over them like waves upon the shore. Crimson splattered upon the flagstones, cries of terror cut off, weeping reverberated off the stones.
The mages began to fight; fire, ice, lightning and earth flew at the templars. Some were frozen, some burned, some fell, but for every templar that fell, another took its place. Shield blocked magic, dispels slammed the Fade closed, smites sent the mages to their knees. In horror and sorrow, I watched the bloodbath unfolding before my eyes.
I searched for Cullen, the rain making it difficult to see. He slew a few mages, easily blocking their attacks. It seemed as if he were delaying the killing blow as long as possible, but they refused to back down. Their deaths were quick at his hand. Cullen followed Meredith to the next courtyard. Hawke and her companions stood between some mages—who'd thrown themselves before Hawke—and the approaching templars. Templars and mages alike lay dead all around, evidence of blood magic upon the stones.

"Have mercy, we beg you!" A mage appealed to Hawke. "Do whatever you want with us, but let us live!"

"No!" Meredith shouted, entering the courtyard. "This Circle is beyond redemption."

Cullen spoke up at this. "Knight-Commander, surely the Right of Annulment requires something more—"

"—It requires my word, Cullen," Meredith cut him off as she turned to him, "Do as I've commanded." He stared at her even after she had turned back to Hawke.

"Champion!" The mage appealed, "Will you not defend us? Must we all be slaughtered for the actions of a few?"

Hawke looked to Cullen. "I want to hear what the Knight-Captain has to say."

Cullen looked to Meredith, her jaw clenched. "I…" Cullen ignored her, turning to Hawke. "The Right has always been a last resort, when every mage involved was beyond salvation." He paused. "The situation was far more dire in Ferelden's Circle, and yet many mages were saved." Cullen looked to Meredith, eyes questioning and voice pleading as he said, "We could still do as much here."

Meredith turned away from him, voice full of contempt, "Objection noted, Captain."

"Why are you surrendering?" Hawke asked the mages before her, a dark brow raised as her blue eyes looked over them.

"The First Enchanter, he's still in the tower," the mage began, "He…said he had a plan, something that would stop the Knight-Commander."

"Demons?" Meredith questioned. "Or something worse?"

"I don't know," the mage answered, "We wanted nothing to do with it, so we ran." The mage looked back to Hawke. "Please, help us! We've done nothing wrong!"

Hawke met Meredith's eyes. "Is there a way to tell if they're blood mages?"

"There is not," Meredith answered.

"But they haven't resorted to it," Cullen offered, drawing Meredith's attention again, "even to save their own lives. Perhaps, if we watched them carefully,—"

"And if they hope to escape by playing innocent?" Meredith questioned, her blue eyes burning as she stared him down, "Will you accept that responsibility, Cullen?"

"Yes," Cullen answered, emphatically, "I believe that's what being a templar is about."

"And I say we are here to protect the people," Meredith spit, stepping towards him, "We are to be judges, jailers and even executioners."

"I will not let you kill those who surrender," Hawke challenged.

"And since when were you the head of the templars?" Meredith demanded, "Who are you to give me orders?"

"I am not trying to give you orders, Meredith," Hawke stated, "I am merely trying to prevent unnecessary slaughter. They surrendered of their own volition. Surely, that earns them some commendation? Does the Right have no exceptions?"

"It does," Cullen stated, ignoring Meredith. He waved for a few of the templars to join him.

Together, they escorted the surrendering mages out of the courtyard. The mages were frightened, but did not ask any questions. Once away from Meredith, the templars with him turned to Cullen.

"Knight-Captain," Ruvena's voice sounded from her helmet, "What are we to do with them?"

Cullen looked to her. "There are exceptions to the Right. It is exacted upon those mages beyond salvation. Abominations, blood mages, those unwilling to surrender. These mages surrendered. I would spare them." He looked to his charges, still frightened as they kept their eyes averted.
"Take them to…my quarters. Set up a barricade. Fan out and look for others who would surrender. Find the fledglings before they are caught up in this."

"And when this is over? What will Meredith do with them?" Keran growled.

"We will deal with it when the time comes," Cullen stated. "For now, we must make it through the night. I would save those that can be saved. Now, go!"

Keran and Ruvena saluted before running to see to those who sought refuge. The rest of the templars followed behind Cullen as he fought his way back to where they had left Hawke and Meredith. It seemed more mages were giving in to blood magic and possession as demons and abominations appeared.
Downing lyrium, Cullen and his fellow soldiers met the dark magics with fervor. The white light of their abilities blazed brightly as they unleashed attack after attack. Demons, abominations and templars fell. Blood sprayed everywhere.
Blood mages showed themselves and tried to use their dark magic only to be cut down. Innocent mages just trying to get away were caught in the middle. Cullen did his best to protect them, to lead his men, but in the end, he alone made it back to the inner courtyard. The other templars making the final sacrifice to end the monsters.
Cullen heaved in breaths, looking down at his blood splattered armor. Thunder rumbled overhead, the rain pinging off of him. All around him was death, but he remained. Pain flickered over his face, his grip tightening upon his sword. Letting out a shaky breath, he sheathed it and reached his hand into the folds of his skirts. For a moment, he looked at what he held: a small coin.

"What luck have I?" He murmured, voice full of sadness as he stared at it. Voice low, he repeated the Chant.
"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the Maker's will is written."

Cullen looked to the sky, the rain falling into his face. The clouds broke for a moment and the light of the moons shone through. Closing his eyes, he let out a breath. The sadness fell away and determination took its place as he shoved the coin back into his pocket.
Drawing his sword once more, eyes fierce, he made his way up a small staircase and into the halls of the Circle. He ran as fast as he could, carnage in the wake of those who'd already passed through. Eventually, he spilt into a large atrium.
A metal cage-like structure sat in its middle, the levels of the Gallows surrounding it. Within, Cullen found Meredith and Orsino staring each other down, Hawke in the middle trying to take Bethany, who refused to leave. A battle had taken place, mages and templars dead all around. Meredith had her weapon drawn as Orsino pointed his staff at her.

"Look at it all, Meredith!" Orsino demanded as he spread his hands wide. Cullen took his place behind Meredith, Orsino gesturing to the dead. "Why don't you just drown us as infants? Why wait? Why give us the illusion of hope?"

"It's not too late to stop this, First Enchanter," Hawke pleaded, pulling on Bethany who was reaching for Orsino, tears in her brown eyes.

"Not too late?" Orsino hissed, his eyes not leaving Meredith, "Look around you! Look at what we've become!" Rage and resignation sat equal in his drawn face.
"I refuse to keep running! I won't wait for her to kill me!" He looked over his shoulder at the mages standing behind him, sorrow in his eyes.
"My fellow mages, heed me! There is only one option for us: survive. Do not submit! Do not fall on your knees before them! Get out of Kirkwall—spread word to the other Circles. They will not get away with this!"

Some of the mages nodded, turning to flee. Others remained, unsure what to do. The templars behind Meredith made to pursue them, but Orsino blocked their way. As he did, he pulled a dagger from his robes. Meredith and Cullen lunged to attack, but Orsino threw them back with blood magic that he had already cast as he'd been speaking.

"Just as I suspected all along," Meredith spit as she used her sword to stand, her eyes crazed, a madden smile pulling her lips.

Orsino huffed a laugh. "The irony is that until this very moment, I have never used blood magic."

"Do you take me for a fool?!" Meredith demanded. "One does not summon such a ritual from thin air!"

"The rite belonged to Quentin, a man the Champion is familiar with," Orsino admitted, shame in his eyes, even as the blood began to work around him, painting enchantments upon the air, "I put aside his research as too dangerous—but, things have changed."

"You were working with that murderer?!" Hawke roared, shock on her face. She was shocked enough that her grip on Bethany loosened. Bethany fell, slowly coming to her knees.

"I knew about him," Orsino murmured, his eyes averted, "I kept his existence secret because I didn't want to give Meredith more ammunition against us." He lowered his head a moment, before anger took over once more. His eyes glared at Meredith, their green irises now a dark crimson of blood, a milky film over his pupils.
"I see now I needn't have bothered."

"But…you could have stopped him?" Bethany questioned, devastation upon her face as she looked to her mentor. "You could have saved her!"

"I'm sorry, my dear," Orsino apologized, "I didn't know the extent of his derangement until it was too late." His eyes looked to the Hawke sisters.
"I have no right to ask your forgiveness, but it pains me what my inaction took from you, child. Find peace." He looked once more to Meredith.
"As for me, I pray this last act may save a few of those I have so miserably failed to protect." Regret flickering across his face briefly, he closed his eyes and sliced into his wrist.
"You wanted blood magic, Meredith? Then I will give it to you!"

"The Maker has guided us to end your evil, Orsino!" Meredith yelled.

"Maker help us all!" Orsino shouted at the same time.

"No!" Bethany sobbed, a hand reaching out for Orsino.

Dark magic erupted from the First Enchanter, throwing everyone back. As they rose, their eyes widened as they took in the dark magic. The dead mages around Orsino, their blood, swirled around him as it glowed with magic. Rising off the ground, their corpses wound around his levitating body.
Sickening squelches, crunches, and gurgling sounded as their bodies were destroyed. Skin melted, innards and tissues seeped out, bones jutted through as a miasmatic sphere of pulsating flesh formed before slamming upon the ground. From the amalgamation, limbs burst forth, pushing the creature up.
Along its body, the skeletons of those used to create it could be seen, the flesh of their faces melted into its skin were twisted into abject horror. From between its shoulders, a head exploded out, covering them all in the revolting residue of the creature's make. The head shrieked from its gaping mouth, fanged teeth encompassing the whole of it. Rotting eyes glared down upon them all, the appalling monster heaving in breaths. The flesh around the head split open, arms clawing their way out all around it before dropping to dangle like perverted hair, swaying as it moved.

"Maker have mercy!" A few of the templars cried.

A battle made of nightmares unfolded before my eyes. The creature charged, both templar and mage alike its prey. No longer was it Orsino, or even his will, but a mindless fiend bent on slaughter.
Templars fell before it, their abilities having little effect. Mages ripped apart. The dead it amassed arose again as its thralls, attacking the living.
Meredith shouted orders, doing her utmost to keep her men calm and focused upon taking the creature down. Those mages who remained, Bethany included, after their initial shock, turned their magic upon what had been their First Enchanter. Hawke palmed her daggers, protecting her sister from the creature and the undead alike. Varric vaulted through the air, Bianca shooting arrow after arrow.
They battled on for what seemed like ages until, eventually, the creature fell. Victory short as the monster's head detached from its body to renew its attack. More fell until only Cullen, Meredith, Bethany, Hawke, Varric and Aveline remained. With a final blow, the twisted creature fell, a final screech as Hawke stomped its skull in with her armored foot.
Those who remained, collapsed in exhaustion at its defeat. Orsino's goal was met, those mages who sought to escape had; nearly all the templars who had entered were dead. When they had regained some of their strength, they stood. Bethany stumbled to her mentor's corrupted corpse, falling to her knees, the blood seeping into her mage robes.

"I can't believe it," she whimpered, "How could he do this?"

Meredith approached her, her sword still drawn. "Such is the curse that you carry, difficult as it may be to accept."

Bethany turned to her, "You!" Tears fell down her cheeks as she rose to her feet, exhausted as she was, she made to charge the Knight-Commander, finger of judgement pointed at Meredith. Hawke stepped between them, holding Bethany back. "Your insanity drove him to this!"

"I will not argue with you, mage," Meredith dismissed her, her grip tightening on her sword, "My purpose here is clear."

Cullen looked to Meredith, still dragging in breaths. The blue of lyrium was gone from his eyes, they now bronze in the light of the torches. His brow knit as he glanced between his superior officer and Bethany's accusing finger.

Bethany dropped her hand, disbelief and despair on her face. "We aided you! We fought at your side against that thing!" Meredith said nothing. "But it does not matter. I'm just one more abomination to be dealt with." A sad smile curled her full lips. "Yes, I see what comes next."

"Back away from her, Meredith," Hawke spit, "Your work is done."

Meredith glared at Hawke, a red tinge to her irises appearing before she blinked. "Have it your way, then. I will make sure the keep is secure."

Waving her hand, she turned, sheathing her blade upon her back. I recognized the weapon then, it was the same strange sword Samson had wielded in Haven. His had glowed with red lyrium, and while Meredith's was identical, it was not glowing with the sinister ore.
Cullen glanced at the Hawke sisters, his face unreadable before he followed after Meredith. Working their way back through The Gallows, the remaining templars regrouped in the outer courtyard. Rain was falling in earnest now, washing away the gore upon their armor, thunder and lightning a constant in the sky above.
Cullen counted how many remained, asked what they had encountered throughout the keep, ascertained the damage and what remained for them to do. Many templars were injured or dead, few mages remained from what the others had told Cullen and even more had given over to possession or blood magic.
Ruvena and Keran returned to the courtyard, the mages and fledglings they had protected behind them. Through all of this, Meredith simply stood, her face enigmatic, studying the templars. Cullen approached her to give her a report, but she seemed not to hear.

"Look at all this," she murmured, "Magic is a cancer in the heart of our land, just as it was in the time of Andraste. And like Her, we are left with no choice but to purify it with fire and blood."

"You almost sound as if you're happy to do it," Hawke stated as she approached, Bethany behind her. The mages ran to Bethany and Hawke, the little ones following suit.

"Happy?" Meredith raised a brow, her gaze settling on Bethany and the remaining mages and not wavering, "I would prefer we lived in a world without such sickness, where such madness is unnecessary. But we do not. Even this battle is not yet over."

"You got what you wanted," Hawke bit as she stepped before the mages, "It's done."

"Not quite," Meredith cocked her head, "I am beginning to wonder just how large your part in all this actually was. A refugee come to our city with an apostate sister, gathering power and influence without any accounting? A sudden hero of the people? How can I trust that the mighty Champion of Kirkwall is not a worse threat to this city than the Circle? That her sister is not the blood mage pulling the strings behind it all?"

"If you want to see a threat to this city, look in the mirror," Hawke snarled, her blue eyes full of challenge.

"I have done nothing but perform my duty," Meredith argued, "I am here to see order restored. All threats eliminated. The people of Kirkwall will mourn your loss, but I will tell them you died fighting the mages." That red gleam returned to her irises and this time it did not dissipate. "A righteous cause."

Hawke's companions and Bethany shouted in protest, the surviving mages putting the fledglings behind them. Hawke palmed her daggers, her face livid as she bared her teeth. She looked feral as she stared Meredith down, the rain causing her raven hair to stick to her face.

Her usually cool demeanor falling away completely as she spoke, "All you wanted was power. Control. Anders got the grand cleric out of your way and you used the opportunity to wipe out the mages. And I…stood by while you did it. Now, you see me in your way to absolute control of the city."

"Believe what you will, foolish girl," Meredith hissed, "I seek only the security of Kirkwall's future."

Hawke pointed a dagger at Meredith, "I will not let you harm another mage! I will make sure you pay for what you've done here!"

"I will be rewarded for what I've done here. In this world and the next!" Meredith shouted, the rain sizzled and curled into steam as it hit her armor. "What happens to you now is your own doing. You've decided to defend the remaining mages, therefore, you will share their fate."

"Knight-Commander," Cullen addressed Meredith as he stepped forward, anger on his face. He was drenched, his hair curling and clinging to his forehead. "I thought we intended to arrest the Champion?"

"You will do as I command, Cullen," Meredith growled, turning on him.

"No," he challenged, disbelief and disillusionment on his face, "I defended you when Thrask started whispering you were mad. But this is too far."

"I will not allow insubordination!" Meredith shouted, unsheathing her sword and pointing it at Cullen. Her eyes glowed that same crimson as the Red Templars' and as they did, so too did her blade. "We must stay true to our path!"

"Andraste's dimpled butt cheeks," Varric swore.

"You recognize it, do you not?" Meredith questioned, her voice oily, blade still pointed at Cullen, even as she looked to Varric. Cullen put his hands up, defensively, fear in his eyes as he backed away. As all the templars backed away.
"Pure lyrium, taken from the Deep Roads," Meredith stared obsessively at the blade as she felt along it with her gloved fingers.
"The dwarf charged a great deal for his prize." All sanity had gone out of Meredith's eyes as she stared down Hawke.

"No wonder you're mad!" Hawke laughed, though there was no humor in it, "The idol poisoned Bartrand's mind in the end."

"He was weak," Meredith sneered, "Whereas I am not!" Meredith turned to the templars who had taken a few steps back.
"All of you, I want her dead!" She commanded as she jabbed her sword at Hawke.

"Enough!" Cullen demanded, stepping towards Meredith and slightly between her and the mages, his posture straightening, thunder cracking over head.
"This is not what the Order stands for. Knight-Commander, step down!"
His voice had taken on that commanding tone, the tone he used with the Inquisition's soldiers. The tone he used when he argued his position. The tone he used to rally the Inquisition's forces.
His exhausted eyes cleared, staring her down as he did demons and blood mages. Meredith turned back to him, her blade lowering. Lightning flashed.
"I relieve you of your command!"

Meredith looked at him, disbelief and the feeling of betrayal on her face as her eyebrows rose. "My own knight-captain falls prey to the influence of blood magic." Her brow furrowed, anger and determination wiping out her other emotions.
"You all have!" She thrust her blade at them all, her templars backing further away from her.
"You're all weak, allowing these mages to control your minds, this blood mage's thrall to turn you against me!" She turned back to Hawke, her face livid.
"But I don't need any of you!" She pointed her blade at the remaining mages, thunder rumbling as lightning cracked the sky once more. Hawke stared her down as she placed herself firmly in front of them, teeth and blades bared.
"I will protect this city myself!"

Cullen stepped fully between Meredith and the mages, at Hawke's side. He drew his blade, holding it in a blocking position. His eyes stared her down as he said, "You'll have to go through me."

"Idiot boy!" Meredith spit at him, "Just like all the others!" With those words, she thrust the red lyrium sword into the ground, unleashing its power as she did so.
"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter!" Her eyes shone bright with red lyrium, the sword ablaze with it as she attacked.

Cullen met her blade with his shield, eyes ablaze with fury as he met his knight-commander in battle. "Ruvena! Keran! Bethany! Take the remaining mages and the fledglings and get out of here!"

"But, Knight-Captain—" Keran protested, drawing his sword, eyes fixed on Meredith.

"Go! Now! The rest of you, with me!" Cullen roared, his sword blocking another blow from Meredith. His honey-brown eyes looked to Hawke. "You too, Champion! Or is your title unearned, as she claimed?"

"Gladly, Knight-Captain," Marian flashed a wicked smile.

"How dare you!" Meredith shrieked at Hawke. "How dare you turn him against me!"

"You have done that yourself, Meredith!" Hawke screamed back as she dove away from Meredith's swing, rolling to come up behind her. But Meredith was too quick, turning before Hawke could land a strike.

"Enough! I will end you all!" Meredith howled.

Together, Cullen and Hawke ruthlessly attacked Meredith, but the red lyrium gave her unnatural strength and endurance. She resisted their attacks, her speed outmatching theirs. For a moment, it seemed Meredith would win. Until fire rained down upon her and she cried out, the red lyrium flickering. Cullen and Marian turned to find Bethany rushing forward, hands and staff alight with magic.

"I told you to go with the others," Cullen growled.

"I'm an apostate now, remember? I don't have to listen to you," Bethany smirked at him.

Cullen's lips twitched as if he would smile. "This is hardly the time for the Hawke family's idea of a joke."

"Have to laugh to keep from crying, Captain," Marian hollered over Meredith's rage, "Otherwise we'd all go mad."

"You're mad," Cullen shook his head.

"You're only now realizing that?" Hawke questioned, laughing maniacally.

Red lyrium crackled through Bethany's fire, dispelling it. Meredith went to a knee, breathing ragged. Her eyes were burning red, the whole of them now the color of red lyrium. It was crackling along her skin, crystals beginning to pierce through her armor.

She glared up at them all. "Maker, your servant begs you for the strength to defeat this evil!"

With that cry, she stood before slamming her sword into the ground. They were thrown back as red lyrium erupted beneath them, veining out all around before webbing up the various bronze statues. The ore glowed and with it, the statues came to life.

"What in the Maker's name is this?" Cullen asked, looking upon the display in shock.

"Evil," Varric stated, a dark look on his face as they watched the statues tear themselves from their settings before stalking towards them, "Pure evil."

"Evil or not, the statues are still metal," Bethany called, "Metal and magic don't mix."

Bethany assaulted the statues with her magic, ice and fire unrelenting upon the sentient metal. While intimidating, the statues fell quickly. Ice so cold that, once frozen, the statues shattered with a single blow from the others' weapons; fire so hot that the metal melted, rendering the statues useless.
As they fell, Meredith's rage only grew. The red lyrium glowed brighter, a strange ring emitting from her as she raised her blade. As her sword reached towards the sky, so did she, levitating above the flagstones. Thunder boomed over head.

"Everyone, get back!" Cullen yelled.

With a vengeful cry, Meredith called down a pillar of crimson light, dispelling Bethany's magic. Bethany cried out, collapsing upon the ground, unconscious. The crimson pulsed out from Meredith, knocking the others back. A dark variant of the Wrath of Heaven.

Meredith stood, sneering at them all. "It's not enough that they make innocents suffer, no! We must also have insult added to injury!" She stalked towards Bethany, her eyes wild.
"Spare the mages? Give them freedom? And they would use it to tear down everything we hold dear!" Her blade dragging along the ground, rain turning to steam before it even landed upon her armor, her breathing harsh, Meredith came to stand over Bethany's prone body.
"No! No. It cannot be allowed! I will stop it!"

Swinging her blade up, lightning fracturing the sky, the rain looking like blood as it refracted the glowing red lyrium upon her armor, Meredith appeared almost mystical. With a snarl, her blade arced through the air, slicing the rain as it fell. Just as it was about to hit Bethany, a clang rent the air as it met Cullen's own sword.
He parried her weapon before hitting her in the chest with his shield. She stumbled back a few steps, only to meet Marian's daggers. With a gasp from Meredith, Marian slammed the points of her daggers into the weak points in Meredith's armor before wrenching them back out. The promise of death was upon Marian's face as she kicked Meredith back with her armored foot.

Meredith's breathing was ragged, blood trickling from her eyes, nose and mouth. Unhinged as she looked at Marian and the others who had fought her, she raged through rasping breaths, "I will…notbe defeated!"
Heaving in breaths, each one sounding more painful than the last, she shakily raised her sword to Hawke. Bearing it to the sky a moment, she lowered it to her face. The blade becoming glaringly bright, that same strange ring sounding from it. The others backed away.
"Maker! Aid your humble servant!"

Instead of imbuing her with more power, the blade shattered, the red lyrium turning to crimson smoke. The smoke grasped on to Meredith as she began screaming in agony. Clawing its way across her body, it wormed into her mouth, up her nose, into her eyes and ears.
She clawed at her head, terror upon her face as she fell to her knees. Red lyrium erupted through the skin of her right hand, breaking her bones before she erupted into flames. The fire flashed, her body unrecognizable as it cooled to a smolder, smoke curling in the air as her eyes still burned.
Hawke and Cullen stepped towards what remained of her, but did not dare to touch it. The remaining templars looked upon the grotesque remnants of their Knight-Commander. One ran out, kneeling before Meredith, inspecting the damage.
Reaching a hand out as if to touch her, but the templar drew back before making contact. Looking to Cullen, Cullen looked to Hawke. They stared each other down, a silent conversation in their eyes.

Cullen gave Hawke a salute of thanks. "You best get out of here and lay low."

Marian nodded, looking to Bethany. "The city will turn on the mages. Meredith was right about that. Will my sister be safer here? Will you protect her, Knight-Commander?"

Cullen blanched at the title and hesitated before saying, "Yes."

Hawke gave him a nod before turning to leave with the others.

"You think this helps him, meddlesome dreamer?" The demon hissed, "What is this but the culmination of his failures? But a shadow of what he will become? It happened because of him! He stood by and did nothing! It wasn't until the Champion did what he should have that he finally grew a spine. It took another to stand for him to have, how did you say it, sweet templar? A convenient change of heart. Weak, pathetic coward!"

Cullen cried out again.

"You have to fight with more than just memories, Meira," Purpose instructed, "It's no different than what you did in the temple. You called the demons to their other nature. Call Cullen to his."

"To his what? Other nature? He isn't a spirit like you, Purpose. He's mortal. He's complex. Just as you said, we are both our light and darker selves; we cannot have one without the other," I argued.

"I'm not saying you change him, that would have devastating consequences," Purpose shook his head, "Call to him. Hehas to choose how he responds."

"But how?" I begged, Cullen crying out again as the demon taunted him.

"What gives him drive? Gives him hope? Gives him purpose?"

"Wouldn't you know the answer to the last question?" I asked, exasperated.

"Are all you mortals truly so ignorant?" Purpose threw his hands up.

Then something clicked in my mind. "Wait…"

I thought back to when Ellana had shown me the dark future, what had become of Cullen. He had told her that I kept him from succumbing to the red lyrium. Had done so by singing to him; I had sung of the man he was, of the vows he had made, of who he wanted to be.
Servant and protector.
He needed to remember that he had set himself on that path. Both when he began and when he stood up to Meredith. When he joined the Inquisition. With a thought, I dragged the memory back to when Cullen was fighting through The Gallows. I watched again as he paused a moment, pulling that coin from a pocket within his skirts.

Cullen unfurled his gloved hand, looking at what lay upon his palm with a sad smile before murmuring, his voice hopeless, "What luck have I?"

I froze the memory before approaching him. I had dismissed it before, but now I studied it. The coin had the likeness of Andraste carved upon it. The surface was somewhat warn, as if it had been rubbed often, but it shined with polish, having been given great care. I let the memory play out a little farther.

Cullen looked at the coin, mumuring, "Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the Maker's will is written." He looked to the sky. The rain splattered on his face, but he didn't mind as he studied the clouds. As he did, the storm parted a moment as the light of the moons shone through.

"Get out, you foolish mortal!" The demon hissed and I felt its malevolent presence turn to search for me.

"You're nearly there, Fadewalker," Purpose encouraged. "You must be very careful."

Thinking as swiftly as I could, I reached out and touched the coin. I watched as his brother gave it to him beside the lake the day Cullen left for training. As he looked at it, rubbing it nervously before he shoved it in his pocket and took his final vows to protect and serve. His thumb running over it as he stood before a mirror, preening in his shining armor as he wore it for the first time. Clutching it tightly as he walked through the doors of Kinloch Hold.
Each time he held it, he recited the Chant; first the templars' creed taken from the Canticle of Benedictions, then from the Canticle of Trials. A physical reminder of who he wanted to be and where he had come from; his chosen verses the same.
Protector of the innocent and vulnerable. Servant of the people and the Maker.
Returning to The Gallows, I let the damper off my powers just a little more and saw what Cullen had been thinking in that moment. I saw the boy Cullen, standing before his older self as he pressed the coin harder into Cullen's gloved hand.

His younger self whispered, "Be a knight who protects people." The older Cullen, still looking to the sky, closed his eyes as if listening to a memory. The boy continued, "Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light and nothing He has wrought shall be lost."

The older Cullen opened his eyes, the sadness falling away and determination taking its place as he curled his fingers around the coin once more.

"So what?!" The demon shrieked, "It changes nothing!"

I reached out to Cullen's spirit that was woven through this cage. There was so much pain within him, so much hurt and sorrow, but shame…shame was what he felt the most. Shame of all he had done and who he believed he was. It broke my heart to feel it, to see it unveiled.
For here he could not hide it and I hated that I was able to see it. Even if it were to help him, knowing I could not—would not—take away the pain, I hated that I would be so intimately aware of the secrets, the burdens, he bore. For he would never have that of me and it felt like a betrayal. It made me feel ashamed.
But moreover, it made me burn with rage against this demon. Against all those who had hurt him, had corrupted him, had twisted all he ever hoped for into nightmares. For beneath all the pain, all the sorrow, all the regret, there was a silver thread of hope. Of purpose.
And it was what his soul yearned for, his heart longed for, his mind prayed for. Though there was an ancient song woven in him, beneath it was a melody all his own. A tiny flicker of purest gold flames, in danger of being snuffed out as he listened to the demon's lies.

"You promised you would kill us, demon, if I interfered," I roared at the creature, "Do your worst. For I am coming. And I promise to make you hurt. I promise to make you burn." The demon snarled in response, but I ignored it, instead speaking gently to the man who held my heart.
"There is no shame in who you hoped to be, my knight. You can hope to be him again."

Grasping onto Cullen's spirit, his true spirit, what burned brightest within him, I called to him and sang. I would have to thank Maryden for the songs she had woven and sang so often that they had become the spirit of the Inquisition, embodying the hope it inspired.
"Once, we were in our peace with our lives assured. Once, we were not afraid of the dark. Once, we sat in our kingdom with hope and pride. Once, we ran through the fields with great strides."
I pulled every memory of his childhood I could reach and poured it over his fractured spirit. Happy evenings spent with his parents and siblings. Days spent playing in the sun with his brother and sisters. When he'd decided to become a templar.
"We held the fade and the demons' flight, so far from our children and from our lives. We held together the fragile sky to keep our way of life."
I reminded him of his days training to become a templar. His days spent doggedly learning how to wield a sword and shield. His passion for memorizing everything his mentors would teach him. Falling asleep as he recited the parts of the Chant he had to commit to memory. Finding friendship in Alistair.
All of it golden, full of hope and joy. The constant center of it all his drive and will to protect and serve the innocent—mage and mortal alike.
"Once, we raised up our chalice in victory. Once, we sat in the light of our dreams. Once, we were in our homeland with strength and might. Once, we were not afraid of the night."
I had him remember when he passed his training, the pride he felt during the ceremony. All his hard work, all he sacrificed, realized as his mentor pressed that first draft of lyrium to his chest. The determination that coursed through him as he was reknit with the strength and power to defend those most in need.
The purpose surging within as he donned his armor for the very first time. The hope as he stepped within Kinloch Hold.
"We held the fade and the demons' flight, so far from our children and from our lives. We held together the fragile sky to keep our way of life."
I felt Cullen respond, that overwhelming shame peeling back just a little as something else took its place.
"You lost your way," I murmured to him, "But you can find it again. You have found it again."

The demon cursed, its evil wholly focused upon me as it desperately tried to find where I hid.

"Run, Meira!" Purpose warned, the demon closing in on me, "Hide within a new memory!"

As I dragged Cullen's spirit forward in time, I heard the demon spit, "I will make you regret ever coming here! I will make you pay!"

…

I ran alongside Cullen as he ran through the Gallows, he and the remaining templars sweeping through to cut down the abominations and demons still lurking within. Meredith and Orsino were both gone, leaving the remaining templars and mages leaderless. They were at a loss as to how they were to recover from what had just happened.
Cullen directed the mages to seclude themselves in the rooms surrounding his quarters as they had been secured while the templars secured the rest of the keep. Once that was done, then they would figure out what happened next. It was exhausting work that spanned several days, but eventually only the lowest level remained.
Tranquil had been trapped down there, unable to defend themselves and no one looking out for them. Cullen, Ruvena and Keran got them out, Cullen going back for a final sweep. It was then that he found me. Breaking me out of that cell, I saw her—the form my shadow-self took. Disgust and shame washed over me as I looked at her in Cullen's arms. Skeletal, broken and tainted. Cuts and bruises all over, the remnants of Alrik's final punishment in the last stages of healing. A corpse in every respect save for my beating heart.
He crossed the threshold and I broke into pitiful sobs. Rage as I had never seen was upon Cullen's face as he carried me, cradling me to his chest. My sobs were hopelessness made into song, echoing off the walls of The Gallows as he walked me through.
Mages peered out of their rooms as he brought me his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him. He laid me gently upon his bed and covered me with his blankets. With each time he touched me, I flinched. I curled in on myself under the covers, my wails unending. My back to him, he lowered to a knee. Beseeching the Maker on my behalf, begging His and my forgiveness, I watched as the man I loved broke at the sight of me.

"How miserably you failed!" The demon taunted, drawn to Cullen's shame once more. "In your blind wrath for all you suffered, the mage you claim to love was tortured at the hand of your brethren! Are you any better? How many mages did you cause to suffer? Did you subject to torment? Sadistically enjoying every moment of it as it slaked your thirst for vengeance!
"Tell me, sweet templar, did her wounds bring you secret pleasure? Did her pain soothe your own? Did you wish you had been the one to cause it, just as you did when you thrust your blade into her gut to rid yourself of Desire?"

"No!" Cullen shouted, his voice laced with agony.

"Liar!" The demon laughed. "You wanted her dead! You wanted them all dead! All locked away! You wanted them all to suffer as you suffered!"

Cullen cried out, my name upon his lips. I called to him again, willing his memories on. He'd brought Bethany to me and left the room as she helped clean me up, Ruvena watching over in case I reacted negatively. Returning when she finished, he stood and watched as I huddled in a corner as Bethany examined me with her magic.
Dismissing Ruvena, Bethany looked to him, her face in shock as she told him my injuries were worse than he could imagine. She offered him a solution to help me. Determined, he meant to go into the city the next day to find Hawke and ask her to bring Feynriel.
Instead, he was met by the citizens of Kirkwall demanding mage blood. Word had spread of what happened and that the Right of Annulment had not been carried out to its fullest extent. They stood upon the docks, Cullen having lowered the gates into the Gallows, weapons in hand and murderous rage in their eyes. Cullen called the templars into the courtyard, having them form a few rows of defense in case the people broke through, before raising the gate to meet them.

"What is the meaning of this, Knight-Captain?" One of them demanded, "Guard Captain Aveline says the Knight-Commander is dead. That the First Enchanter is dead. That the mages rebelled and yet, some still live. Our city is destroyed! The Grand Cleric dead! Every mage in there should be executed!"

The others yelled their agreement.

"Our loved ones lay dead in the streets, slaughtered by mages drunk on power! Where were you templars? Is it not your duty to protect us? To stop such evil?"

"You were happy to harass us, to storm our homes when the mages were under your thumb, but once they rebelled, you were like chaff in the wind!"

"Our city burns and where are you? Holed up in your keep! You should be helping us!"

"Do your duty! Kill those mages and come defend us! Come fix what you wrought upon us!"

"If you templars had done your duty, none of this would have happened!"

The templars started getting angry and yelling back.

"We tried! You were only too happy to hide the mages away before the city was burning!"

"Meredith warned you about them, but did you listen?"

"I daresay they should live with the consequences!"

The people raged.

"How dare you! You serve us!"

"Lazy helms!"

"You bring shame to the Maker! To Andraste!"

Cullen listened to it all in silence, his face slowly adopting that stony demeanor he often wore. The people and the templars began a shouting match, getting into each others' faces, the tension growing and growing. Hands tightened on weapons, the templars' hands going to their swords.

Clenching his jaw, Cullen stepped between them and roared. "Enough!" Silence fell. He looked to the people and to the templars.
"Hasn't enough blood been spilt? What good would more do?" The citizens of Kirkwall looked at each other, anger giving way to hopelessness.
"Go back to your homes. You will find no answers here. We templars will aid you as soon as we finish seeing to our charges. Prince Sebastian of Starkhaven has sent the templars of his city to us, they will arrive within a fortnight. Until then, we will defend you as best as we are able."

The people slowly left. Cullen and all but a few of the templars sailed across the harbor to the city, finding it in chaos. More abominations, demons and apostates roamed the streets, terrorizing the people.
Aveline and the City Guard had done their best, quarantining the populace to a small part of the city to prevent further death. They were unable to defeat all the threats, however, lacking the abilities of the templars to give them an advantage. Hawke came out at night to do what she could, but laid low during the day. Cullen had asked her to send for Feynriel, explaining who I was and what had happened in barest detail. Hawke readily agreed. Cullen met with Aveline, they coordinated their efforts to take back the city. Guard and templar fought side by side, pushing the chaos back inch by inch.
They spent days wrestling control from the malefic threats. Mages were found, some surrendering, some seeking refuge as the city had turned on them. Cullen sent those seeking refuge to The Gallows; those who had been fighting, but surrendered he imprisoned; the blood mages that refused to do either, he executed.
In the night hours, Hawke would visit. It was during one of these visits that she tried to kiss him, but Cullen gently rebuffed her, but it only angered her. She continued to aid in the fight, but did not make social calls to him again. In the midst of their battle, Rylen and the Starkhaven templars arrived. Rylen strode up to Cullen, who stood directing his men in a makeshift camp within the middle of the city.

"Heard Meredith gaun en pooched this city right up," Rylen chuckled, extending his hand.

Cullen quirked a brow quirked as he looked at Rylen's face and then his hand.

"Knight-Captain Rylen of Starkhaven," Rylen introduced himself, an easy smile on his handsome face, "At your service."

Cullen grasped Rylen's hand. "Knight-Captain Cullen. It's good you've arrived. Kirkwall is in dire need of help."

"Aye," Rylen nodded, looking around, "Let's set her to rights, shall we?"

Together, Cullen and Rylen, along with Aveline, formulated a plan. Rylen dismissed Cullen, telling him to return to the Gallows to see to his charges as it had been nearly a week since he'd returned. Rylen told him he needed to ensure the mages were safe and looked after, that he needed to get some rest and to return when that was done.
Instead of resting, Cullen swept through the keep once more. Not finding any threats, the mages safe, I followed him back down to the lower levels of The Gallows. His footsteps echoed on the stone of the chamber where Alrik had kept me and the others. He walked into each cell, evidence of what had occurred within stained the stones. He saved my cell for last, hatred clear upon his face.
Storming out, he marched to what I assumed had been Alrik's quarters. In a rage, he tore it apart. Wrenching open drawers, tearing apart the bed, ripping everything out of the wardrobe, ransacking the whole of it until he found Alrik's little journals.
Red leather bound the pages that held the accounting of all he had done. There were dozens upon dozens hidden beneath a loose stone under his bed. Heaving in breaths, Cullen wrenched one off the top and began to read.
Anger gave way to horror and disgust as he read through them. At one point, he ran to a bucket and vomited within; heaving and heaving until his stomach was empty. He made himself read them all, his body shaking with wrath at the end. He set fire to the journals and Alrik's room, the flames dancing in his eyes as he watched them burn.
Once done, he stalked his way through the keep to the templars' mess hall. They were in the middle of eating, but stood at attention at his entrance. His voice roared out names he discovered in the journals. Those foolish enough to have remained stood.
He took them to task, interrogated them, demanded to know where Karras and the others were. Many had died when Hawke assaulted the keep with Anders, the rest had fled in the chaos after the Circle fell. When he'd gotten all he could from them, he went to the mages and got a full account of all that had been done that he was unaware of—all they were willing to talk about; the truth breaking the illusion that the Order was some beacon of integrity and righteousness.
Once he gathered all the information and evidence he could, he made the templars who'd been party to the crimes committed against the mages scrub the stones of the cells—both Alrik's and The Gallows'—until all was washed away. Their hands and knees bleeding, he stood them before the mages and honorable templars. Anger on their faces as he stripped the corrupt templars of their commissions and discharged them from the Order.
That night, he lay upon the floor of his bedroom, I fitfully asleep in his bed. He had an arm under his head, the other raised above him as he looked at his coin in the light of the fire burning in the hearth. He turned the coin over and over, running his thumb along the surface.
The keep cleared of threats, those mages who wanted to remain returned to their rooms. Templars stood guard, not to keep the mages in, but to protect them in case there were any demons or abominations missed. Meredith's petrified remains still sat in the main courtyard, no one knowing what to do with her. The mages could not move her and Cullen refused to let anyone touch her.
He and Bethany essentially became the acting Knight-Commander and First Enchanter, each seeing to their own, but discussing what to do. Their first goal being to fix the damage done to the keep and secure it. The second for Cullen to go into the city to meet with the City Guard to aid in rebuilding the city and seeing to the malefic threats there. Both tasks seen to, they were at a loss as to their next step.
Cullen continued to stare at his coin well into the night. I cried out in my sleep. He stood, his bare feet padding on the stones as he approached, the cotton of his tunic and breeches whispering as he moved. I was curled into a ball, hands clinging to my head, as I held myself as tightly as I could, shaking.
I had worked the covers off myself in my fitful sleep. In a simple cotton shift, my prominent bones showing through my taut skin and the thin fabric clinging to my body, the wounds and scars upon my arms and legs on display. Bethany had cut my matted hair, my bruised throat garish in the firelight. Cullen studied the nicks along the long arches of my ear that faced him.
Dark rage flashed in his eyes, his nostrils flaring, before it smoldered. Clenching his jaw and fists, he let out a breath. Gently as he could, he pulled the covers back over me and I calmed a fraction.

Hesitantly, he placed a hand over mine. "Forgive me, Neria."

My fingers curled around his thumb and his face softened, guilt and shame in his eyes. He tried to pull away, but with surprising strength, I held fast to him. Gingerly, he sat on the bed, careful not to touch any other part of me. I did not let go of him, so he sat there until morning, his face pensive.
Hawke and Feynriel came some time later, along with all that followed. The devastation upon Cullen's face as he pressed the brand to my forehead broke my heart. The despair as I forgot him plain. I remained a few days, Cullen keeping me in his room. He brought me food, tried to speak with me, but my Tranquil state took its toll on him.
He'd written to Greagoir, wanting to send me back to Kinloch Hold. He did not divulge what had happened to me, only that I had been made Tranquil to spare me from a worser fate. Both Greagoir and Irving responded, rage in their letters. They had asked after me numerous times, the responses received all lies most likely written by Alrik. Cullen did not write to them again. Mia wrote to him as well, but he did not respond to her either.
He escorted me onto the ship that would take me back to Ferelden and threw himself into restoring the city. Days spent fighting and nights spent flipping that coin over and over in his hand. It took weeks, but eventually he, Rylen and Aveline reclaimed the city. Any peace was short lived as the mages voted for independence and the Mage-Templar war broke out all across Thedas.
Mages and templars left The Gallows to join the war, but those who remained coexisted. Rylen and his men refused to answer their Knight-Commander's call to break from the Chantry to pursue war with the mages. Kirkwall descended into chaos once more. Whispers spread of the Chantry looking for the Champion of Kirkwall; wether their intentions were for her good or ill no one knew. Hawke arrived at The Gallows, seeking Cullen out. She told him of her plans to get out of Kirkwall and go into hiding, wanting him to continue watching over Bethany. Their conversation was short, Cullen not saying much.

Hawke stood to leave, "You know, all I was after when I came here—all I was really after—was a comfortable place for my family and I to live. Instead, I stuck my nose in where it didn't belong, ending up in the wrong places at the right time. I don't know if it was the Maker or my own stupidity, but somehow I ended up being awarded the title of Champion. But truth be told, I never wanted it. Any of this. When things escalated, I tried to stay neutral, to help everyone. And what did I get for it? A broken city, an empty mansion and full graves," her eyes met Cullen's wet with tears.
"Should my sins come back to haunt me, I will answer for them, but until then, it's time for someone else to rise where I fell." Cullen watched as Hawke turned to leave. Her hand on the frame of his door, she turned back, a sad smile on her lips.
"Whatever our failings, whatever our sins, I wish you nothing but happiness."

With that, she left. Not days later, the Left and Right Hands of the Divine arrived in Kirkwall. Initiating an investigation, they tried to untangle the mess that was Kirkwall and what had led to all that happened. Unable to find Hawke, Cassandra arrived at the Gallows. Sitting across from Cullen as he sat at Meredith's desk, Cassandra discussed all that was happening beyond the City of Chains. How the mages had voted for independence and broken away from the Chantry, the templars following suit and now war had broken out all across Thedas.
Divine Justinia had a plan, the agents of the Left Hand had watched Cullen as he brought order back to Kirkwall's Circle and helped the city, and she offered him a position. To lead the soldiers of the organization the Divine called her Hands to build if her last effort to bring peace between the Templar Order and the Circle of Magi failed. For the Divine did not seek to restore the Chantry, the Order or the Circle to their former selves, but sought to reform them all.
If peace could not be found, a peacekeeping force would be needed. The Inquisition would need to rise from the ashes and it would need a military advisor to aid its Inquisitor and lead their forces. Cassandra confessed they had hoped to offer the position of Inquisitor first to the Hero of Ferelden and then to Hawke, but were unable to find either. Instead, it would be herself, Leliana, an ambassador and Cullen who would work together to lead the Inquisition should it be needed. They had other candidates in mind for a military advisor, but Cullen's efforts in Kirkwall put him at the top of their list.

Cassandra looked at Cullen, stitches in his lip from where it had been split open. Cassandra's back straight and face grim as she finished, she said, "The choice is yours."

Cullen considered only a moment before accepting. He took a day to see to everything, asking who within The Gallows would come with him. Most refused stating that Kirkwall was their home, but Bethany, Keran, Rylen and all the templars that had come from Starkhaven agreed. Cullen handed the reins to Ruvena, packed his few belongings and left Kirkwall behind.
Upon the ship sailing for Ferelden across the Waking Sea, Varric approached him as Kirkwall disappeared. Cullen only went belowdecks to sleep and eat; otherwise he could be found standing upon the top deck, brooding and pensive as he looked to the horizon. Cullen was looking towards where Kirkwall was across the sea, his thumb running over the coin in his palm, though he kept it hidden.

Varric spoke as he stood next to him, "Were you ready to leave?"

Cullen was silent for a heartbeat before murmuring, "All of it."

"Ferelden may not be any better," his gravely voice chuckling.

"I was there during a Blight and the Circle…" Cullen's brooding mask slipped as his lips gave a ghost of a smile, the cut in his upper lip a fresh scar, as it pulled into that half-smile, "…It can't be worse."

Varric laughed, "You know, for a first attempt at optimism, that wasn't bad."

The next day found Cullen absent of his templar armor save his vambraces as he approached Cassandra. He talked privately to her of wanting to leave the Order and lyrium behind. Surprised, but pleased, Cassandra agreed to help him. She requested the medicines he would need of the ship's herbalist. The symptoms of withdrawal were mild in the beginning, just headaches and nausea, which was exasperated by the lurching of the ship as Cullen was no fan of sea travel.
Rylen, Cassandra and Cullen became fast friends. Bethany and Varric recounted their adventures in Kirkwall. On the road to Haven, Cullen told Cassandra of all he'd found as he uncovered the secrets of The Gallows, of all that had happened while he'd been Knight-Captain. Most nights when the others had gone to sleep, he stayed awake, staring at the starry heavens or his coin. Cassandra would catch him sometimes and they would talk more in depth about the failings of the Chantry, the Order and the Circle, both desperate for solutions.
Bit by bit, remorse, guilt and shame ate away at Cullen, but he was determined to right things as he aided Cassandra. They arrived at Haven, the Conclave having been called by the Divine on their journey there. He came face to face with Justinia, who pardon him for what he allowed to happen in Kirkwall by demanding he make recompense by leading the forces of the Inquisition as they sought to bring peace and reform.
Leliana and Josephine arrived. The Inquisition started small. Cullen stepped into his role and began training the few recruits. Walking into the Chantry, reports in hand as people began to arrive for the Conclave, he nearly ran into me.
The reports fell from his hands as his eyes landed on me. He said my name, my empty eyes meeting his as my hair fell away to reveal the brand. Inexplicable shame washed over him as he stared at the brand, his hands halfway raised to grasp ahold of my arms. I said something, rousing him from his daze causing him to collect himself. That night, the nightmares began as he called out my name.

I reached out to his spirit once more, "You are not to blame for it, my love."

"Oh, but he is," the demon's rasping voice sounded as it grasped ahold of me. My eyes went wide, as I felt its absolute control of this prison slam into place. It had lured me here, allowed me to work, only to trap me. "Just as you are to blame for his shame."

Haven disappeared and I found myself within Kinloch Hold. The room circular, dead all around, that revolting fleshy fungus crawling upon the walls. Stairs ascended at one of the room and next to them, kneeling as he was chained to the floor, held within a magical barrier, was Cullen.
Standing in front of him, amethyst eyes studying me as a predator studies its prey stood Desire. She smiled at me, the gesture promising death. But this demon was not Desire. Whatever it was had waited, springing a trap when I tried to call to Cullen's spirit again. I went to summon a sword, but found myself frozen as the demon changed form.
Before me stood no demon, but Alrik himself. As he stood there, that same sadistic smile on his face, every memory, every wound, every feeling of shame I'd ever felt at my fate at his hands, at my surrender, washed over me. It called to that shadow within me, her madness and despair lashing out as the demon shifted from Alrik to Desire's version of Cullen, threatening to overwhelm me.

"None of that," he clicked his tongue, before snapping his fingers.

Chains shot out of the stone floor, clamping down on my wrists. As the metal met my incorporeal self, what the demon emanated intensified. My shadow responded, insane rage howling within me. I tried to fight my shadow, to fight the demon, but it was too much.
I called for Purpose, he tried to aid me, but the demon shut him out. I tried to summon the armor, but the demon was able to prevent that as well. We were in its domain. Fully in the Fade. The temple had been rooted in both the Fade and the mortal plane, not fully in either. I had proved the more powerful being because I was the same. Not fully Fade-born, not fully mortal. Like calls to like.
But here, we were fully in the Fade, in the demon's realm. The demon, wearing Alrik's face once more, stood before me and willed the chains to force me to my knees. He bent to me, hatred in his eyes.

"You thought you would walk into my domain? Conquer me? Steal my prey?" He got so close to me, I could feel his breath on my face. Nausea rolled in my gut as I could smell him, the demon replicating it perfectly.
"You arrogant, disgusting mortal. You are nothing. No matter the power you hold, the power you've gained, nothing will change the fact that you are worthless." His hand struck out, seizing my throat.
"You told me to do my worst, and so I shall."

At the contact, I screamed, the pain unbearable. Forcing myself to focus past the pain, I tried to call to its other nature through its hand upon my throat. I could not find it.

The demon huffed a laugh. "You cannot change me, Fadewalker. I am Shame. Only pride or indifference can amend me. And you will never feel either about what happened. Neither of you will!"

I watched all that befell Cullen within that magical cage. Desire's every temptation and illusion using my face and body. The blood mages as they cut him and forced him to do and say things that he would never, until he resisted. Uldred joining them, laughing at his torment as he egged the others on. As Desire made him see me become an abomination and feed on him. Sorrow and horror in my heart as the boy I loved was torn apart; his every dream, hope and longing twisted into lusts, sadistic appetites, and cruel intentions.
Again and again the demon forced me to look upon him as I was the face of his nightmare. As he was mutilated, violated and humiliated over and over without end. His friends dying around him while he was unable to do anything. One unending nightmare until the Hero of Ferelden fought her way through the tower.

The demon's fingers sank into me. "Listen to your beloved as he turned upon you!"

"This trick again?" Cullen panted, "I know what you are! It won't work. I will stay strong!"
Before him stood the Hero of Ferelden, but what he saw was not her. His eyes wild, he saw Desire wearing my face once more. He knelt and bowed his head in prayer. Starved, injured and filthy, my proud lion caged and terrified.
"You broke the others, but I will stay strong! For my sake…for theirs'." He let out a noise that held his shame.
"How far they must have delved into my thoughts!"
Evelyn Cousland and her companions tried to speak to him, to pull him out of his daze, but he seemed not to hear them.
"Enough visions," he pleaded, his voice breaking, "If anything in you is human, kill me now and stop this game." Oh, Cullen.
He clutched at his head as he rocked back and forth, his body shaking. I heard Leliana's voice, she reached out to try and offer him some water, but he recoiled, curling in on himself.
"Don't touch me! Stay away! Sifting through my thoughts, tempting me with the one thing I always wanted, but could never have! Using my shame against me; my ill-advised infatuation with her!"
He panted some more before spitting, "A mage, of all things!"
His voice broke again as he cried, "I am so tired of these cruel jokes! These tricks! These…"
Evelyn tried to speak to him again as he sobbed, but he yelled, "Silence! I'll not listen to anything you say, now begone!" After a moment, he looked up.
Confused he stood, panic in his voice, "Still here? But that's always worked before! I close my eyes, but you are still here when I open them!"

"Ser Cullen," Wynne called gently, "You are safe now."

Cullen blinked a few times. The haze in his eyes clearing as he realized whatever he believed he had been seeing was not reality. He heaved in a few breaths. "Wynne?" The elder mage nodded. "Don't blame me for being cautious. The voices, the…the images—so real. H-How did you survive?"

"Do not thank me, these Grey Wardens fought bravely," Wynne gestured to Evelyn and Alistair, "With their help, we have defeated all the demons and abominations below."

"Good," Cullen breathed, "Kill Uldred," he spit, anger in his face, "Kill them all for what they've done!"

Alistair looked to Cullen, "Rutherford? What happened?"

Cullen paled as he spoke, "They caged us like animals. Looked for ways to break us. I'm the only one left." His voice broke as he spoke of his friends.
"They turned some into…m-monsters and," he breathed out, tears in his eyes as they looked around, guilt in his voice as he murmured, "There was nothing I could do."

"That was a rather embarrassing confession, Ser Templar," a sultry voice purred in a thick Antivan accent, "Fancied a mage, did you? Such taboo!"

Cullen glared at the owner of the voice. An elf male with strange tattoos upon his left cheek. "The Maker knows my sin and I pray that He will forgive me."

"Oh, come now, there's no harm in a simple crush," the elf cooed.

"She is a mage and I, a templar, it is my duty to oppose her and all she is!"

"We are not all evil, Ser Cullen," Wynne stated.

"Did a mage not start this? Isn't one of you to blame?" He accused, "Only mages have that much power at their fingertips! Only mages are so susceptible to the infernal whisperings of the demons!"

"This is a discussion for another time," Wynne cut him off, "Irving and the other mages who fought Uldred, where are they?"

"They are in the Harrowing Chamber," he breathed as he looked to the stairs, "The sounds coming out of there…oh, Maker."

"We must hurry," Wynne said to Evelyn, "They are in grave danger, I am sure of it."

"You can't save them!" Cullen protested, "You don't know what they've become. They've been surrounded by…by blood mages who's wicked fingers snake into your mind and corrupt your thoughts!

"His hatred of mages is so intense," Alistair murmured aloud, "The memory of his friends' deaths is still fresh in his mind."

"The templar should be thankful it was not him," a stern voice spoke, the accent sounding rather like The Iron Bull.

"Don't think I'm not grateful," Cullen murmured, "But why should I live when my friends lie dead, their bodies and spirits broken?" Rage rose in his face once more. "You have to end it, now, before its too late!"

"I cannot decide on that before seeing what's going on up there," Evelyn shook her head.

"That is your choice to make, but I beg you to consider what I have to say," he pleaded, "you cannot tell maleficarum by sight. Just one could influence the mind of a king, of a grand cleric! To ensure this horror is ended, to guarantee that no abominations or blood mages live, you must kill everyone up there."

"I do not want the blood of innocents upon my hands," Evelyn stated.

"Sometimes terrible things must be done to protect the greater good," Cullen murmured.

"What greater good?" Wynne argued, "What good is done by killing the innocent? I know you are angry—"

"—You know nothing!" Cullen spit, "I am thinking about the future of the Circle. Of Ferelden. I am just willing to see the painful truth, which you are content to ignore."

"I will defend this tower and the innocents within. They are my family," Wynne growled, "and this, my home."

"As it was mine," Cullen raged, "And look what they've done to it. They deserve to die. Uldred most of all."

"We don't know that they are all blood mages," Evelyn reasoned, "We will deal with this Uldred and then decide what to do with the others."

"Thank you," Wynne breathed with relief, "I knew you would make a rational decision."

"Rational?" Cullen demanded, "How is this rational? Do you understand the danger?"

"I know full well the dangers of magic," Wynne stated, her voice firm, "But killing innocents because they might be maleficarum is not justice."

Cullen merely looked at her. "To think, I once thought we were too hard on you." He threw his hands up. "But what can I do, as you can see I am in no position to directly influence your actions, though I would love to deal with the mages myself."

"You could aid us against those who are actually responsible?" Evelyn offered.

"My cage is Uldred's doing…or one of his mages," Cullen shook his head, "Once they're dead, I will be free."

"Yes, everyone will be freed," Evelyn nodded, "Including the mages. It will be over soon."

"No one ever listens, not until it's far too late," Cullen warned, "Maker turn His gaze on you. I hope your compassion hasn't doomed us all."

"Such tragic love," the demon laughed, "Beginning in such innocence, such bliss, only to be so corrupted and marred. He ashamed of how they used you and how he responded. He wanted you dead! He forsook all he had sworn himself to; blaming magic and mages for all the evils of the world, becoming subjugator and nemesis.
"You ashamed of what they did to you with his face. Utterly broken, forsaking your faith and becoming the monster as you submitted and succumbed.
"Purpose and hope lost. Both once so proud, brought to your knees at the hands of Shame!" The demon laughed, the sound causing bile to burn in my throat.
"Oh, how delicious it is! This shame that intwines you! I will grow fat upon it!"

Cullen and I both screamed as the demon carved us open, forcing our burdens into the light, to feast upon our shame.

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