WARNINGS: Violence, gore and death. Also, a little spice—so adding NSFW just to be safe.

CULLEN

"Protect the Inquisitor!" I shouted, unsheathing my sword as I dug my knees into Stormheart's flanks.

The signal fires of the watchtowers were lit, our soldiers that had been on duty, dead. But I prayed that the signals being lit meant warning had come in time. Please, Maker. Smoke was on the horizon, hazing the sky and obscuring any view of Skyhold.
Stormheart's steps were true as he galloped up the pass, his gait as smooth as always. I could feel his anticipation as it mirrored my own. He was bred for this—just as I had been. My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline flooding my veins. Dread dared to pool in my gut as I thought of the demons and abominations that could be waiting.
We will not run from here, Inquisitor. That's what I had promised Ellana. That the same mistakes in Haven would not be made here. 'The center never changed'. No, we would not run. I would not run. Not this time.
I heard the pounding of hooves behind me and turned to find a great halla galloping up to my side. An intelligent eye met mine. Meira.
'I want to go home'. No, I would not run. Whatever came, I would face it. For her. For us. For the Inquisition. Giving her a nod, I turned my eyes back to the pass. She kept pace with Stormheart as we climbed the mountain.

…

The village was on fire, the fields razed and livestock slaughtered. I thanked the Maker that there seemed to be no one present within the village—alive or dead. I growled under my breath, however, when I noticed the siege engines for Adamant we had begun constructing were completely obliterated. No doubt their intended goal.
I knew…I knew something would happen. I should have demanded I be left behind. Our enemy seemed to have pressed on to the stronghold proper when they found no one within the village, if the multitude of footprints were any indication.
I urged Stormheart on, approaching the bottom of the barbican's shaft. Meira came to a halt next to me, her breath curling out of her dark nose as she breathed out. Roars sounded from within the barbican, Red Templars charging at us. I kneed Stormheart and stormed them, shield taking arrows aimed at me.
Meira raced next to us before she jumped and in mid-air transformed into her mortal form. Her Fade-born armor appearing, she landed upon the ground and from her, ice erupted. The magic engulfed everything, freezing the templars in place, before her spirit blade appeared. In a single swing, she shattered the Red Templars apart.
More spilled from the barbican, Meira snarling as she stepped in and out of the Fade. Ice, spirit blade and her very touch downing her enemies. Atop Stormheart, I fought. The stallion pushed enemies down in his wake, my blade putting an end to them as the stumbled. Circling Meira, those enemies she froze, I struck and shattered apart.

"Are we late to the party?" Dorian's voice sung as the rest of them arrived, his staff lit, fire swallowing the Red Templars that charged them.

"Darling, we are the party," Vivienne laughed as her spirit blade appeared and she threw herself into battle, Ellana following suit.

Together, we made quick work of the pathetic ambush. Dorian set the templars aflame to stop the lyrium from spreading. We turned to the barbican to find the platform and winch system destroyed.
The only options were to repair the platform and have a mage raise a few at a time or for us all to separately climb the precarious steps—though they were hardly steps, instead pieces of stone set far apart so one would have to jump from one to the other—jutting from the wall. I said as much to the others.

"Let's repair it," Meira stated, her hands lighting with magic, "We need to get up there as quick—"

I felt it a split second too late. "—No! Wa—"

She'd set off a magical glyph written in blood. The glyph had illuminated as soon as she'd summoned her magic. Tendrils of blood erupted from the glyph, but before they could reach her or the others, light burst forth. Blinding for a moment before I could see, Stormheart raising onto his back legs as he whinnied before I wrested him back under my control.
Surrounding Meira, the cursed blood and glyph vaporized at the contact, stood Purpose and two other spirits. Not physically, but apparitions. Great tower shields in their hands. Shielding the rest of us were other spirits whose names I did not know. The others disappeared once they were certain we were unharmed.

"Purpose?" Meira questioned.

"Need to be quicker with your barriers," Purpose flashed a smirk—my smirk—at her.

"I'll remember that," she breathed, "Thank you."

He nodded. "Be wary," he warned his gold eyes flicking between us, "Your enemy is out for blood." He looked at Meira. "I am watching over you." With that, he disappeared.

"My, my," Dorian chirped, "What a handsome spirit. Almost reminds me of someone."

Meira cleared her throat, erecting a barrier around all of us. "Let's try that again," she grumbled.

"Commander," Ellana called as she and the other mages finished helping Meira repair the platform, "What's the plan?"

I looked to them all. "It depends on what we find up there. If they still haven't breached Skyhold, we must take back and hold the neck. I left instructions that if the worst should happen, they are to destroy the bridge," I stated, "We've enough of a supply inside to last half a year."

"And if they blow the bridge while we're on it?" Dorian demanded, "What then? We all plummet to our cold deaths?"

"I said if the worst should happen, Pavus. As in, we all die," I retorted, "But if they do, you're mages, are you not? Surely you could come up with something? Besides, it won't matter if we reclaim the neck."

"A very inspiring speech, Commander," Dorian scoffed.

I curled my lip at him. "Only a few of us will be able to go up at a time as a mage will have to raise the platform. Stormheart and I will go up first and charge them. Knight Enchanters fall behind me. Archers will provide cover. Warriors will push as rogues flank. Remaining mages…cause as much chaos as possible, but keep us protected."

"What about demons? Blood mages?" Bull questioned.

"Priority targets," I stated, "Then aim for the mortal."

"And if they're already inside?" Ellana questioned.

I clenched my jaw, fear for my sisters who were still here cropping up. "If they've gotten inside…we have to get inside as swiftly as possible. It will be easy for them to get to the people if they break through any defenses. They should barricade themselves within the castle. The mages are to set glyphs to keep them from getting inside, but given what red lyrium is…We must pray we can get to them in time."

"Lead on, Commander," Ellana ordered.

"I'll stay and lift the platform," Meira said causing me to look at her. Her eyes met mine. "I'll be the fastest up."

I nodded. "You have your orders. Andraste, give us strength."

…

Red Templars, Venatori and demons swarmed the neck. Arrows flew from the arrow loops in the walls of Skyhold and back. Magic was hurled at the walls of the stronghold only to be met by barriers. Mages were trying to force the drawbridge down. Our own dumping all their will into keeping it up.
Red Templars roared as they rushed the drawbridge, hurling themselves at the fortress's walls. Several fell to their deaths, but more made it, limbs replaced with red lyrium punching through the stone walls as if they were no more than air. In horror, I watched as they began to climb at a supernatural speed. A few of the mages atop the wall dropped their barriers to aim for the creatures, but there were too many.
We were too far for the mages' magic to reach them, it was up to me to open a path. 'It was not lyrium'. Sword and shield in hand, Meira's commissioned mabari helmet in place, I kneed Stormheart in the sides.

"For the Inquisition!" I bellowed as we stormed the neck.

For a few heartbeats, all I heard were his hooves upon the stone, the roar of adrenaline in my ears, the rush of the wind slicing through the air. Then with a slam that threatened to unseat me, we bashed into the enemy, splitting them like a plow in the field. Some on the outermost sides were pitched off, screaming as they fell to their demise.
Vivienne and Ellana were to either side of me, great spectral blades hissing as they swung to keep the furrow I'd opened cleared. Shouts weaved through the enemy ranks as they rallied to face us, but still I charged on. Sword thrust into openings in armor, shield taking arrows and blows.
War cries issued behind me as a few of the others entered the fray. Screams erupted from the walls of Skyhold as the Red Templars breached the top. The creatures that were once men and women tore through our soldiers and the mages that had been helping them. Shouts of panic sounded, arrows flew, magic shone everywhere.

"Inquisitor! Vivienne!" I shouted now that we were close enough, "Bring down those Red Templars on the wall! Now!"

But it was too late. The drawbridge groaned as it fell, banging against the stone. They'd killed the mages keeping it up. The Red Templars on the neck shouted, swords or arms raised as they charged.

"Commander!" Rylen's voice bellowed, "Get out of there!"

Outrage could be heard as they met the surprise waiting for them. Arrows flew through the openings in the lowered portcullis. Rylen had amassed a small army within the gatehouse.
Archers in the front, footmen behind them if the attacking force managed to get through. Rows of Red Templars fell as the projectiles tore through their ranks. I got my shield up just in time to block one that had zoomed towards my face.

"Pin them here!" I ordered.

Turning Stormheart, I swept my sword around him to parry a few swings aimed at the horse before spirit blades cut down the would-be attackers. Hunching over so that I was as low on Stormheart as I could be, I pressed into the stallion's flanks once more, he nickering before charging back towards the barbican. Arrows whizzed passed, but I felt a barrier ripple around me, any others disintegrating before they could find their marks. More fell off the sides.

"Brave boy, Stormheart," I murmured to the stallion, his ear flicking back to me.

"Cullen!" Ellana's panicked voice shouted, "The portcullis!"

I turned and that was my mistake. A creature that was more red lyrium than human darted out from the cover of the others and rammed its crystalline arm into Stormheart's chest. The stallion let out a short noise of alarm before he buckled beneath me, flinging me from the saddle. I caught myself at the last second, rolling as I hit the ground and coming up on my feet.
Eyes darting to get an assessment, they caught on the handsome charger. He was dead, had been the moment he hit the ground. A twinge of guilt in my chest, I told myself I would mourn the stallion after this battle, but for now, I had to stay focused. The portcullises had been raised, the force within the gatehouse in danger of falling as the Red Templars swarmed them.
I prayed they'd had time to follow through on my orders. If we were ever sieged, in the case of a breach I had ordered that trenches be dug in the lower bailey. Blockades set up to the west and on the northern and southeastern stairs. Archers and mages were to line the surrounding high areas to attack.
An inhuman screech sounded, pulling my attention to before me. Red Templars were coming for me. Nausea rolled in my gut as I felt the hunger—the thirst—claw at me. The smell of red lyrium so pungent, it was hard to think or breathe. I shoved it away, bringing my shield and sword up. Andraste, give me strength.
 The creature that had taken Stormheart raced towards me, faster than its brethren. It shrieked at me and I snarled at it. Launching itself in the air, it spun, its crystalline arms descending as marksmen released their arrows. I ducked behind my shield, lifting it up just slightly to catch the creature and block the arrows. The strikes fell, the arrows pinging. I felt a weight at my back, heard the release of a bow. A shriek of pain issued, followed by a thud.

"Eat it!" Sera's voice taunted at my back. "Ate it! You just gonna sit on your pretty bum, Cully-Wully?" I turned, seeing that the rest had arrived, save Meira.

"Get to the lower bailey, they've broken through," I ordered, "Do not let them get to the keep!"

"On it," Bull nodded, "Get behind me, all of you!"

Doing as he asked, I signaled the others to get into a wedge formation. With a terrifying bellow, he charged head first into battle, slaughtering the enemy as he went.
With a shout, the rest of us charged behind him. A great roar, one that made my hair stand on end as it dragged my mind back to the night in Haven, rent the air. A great shadow overhead.

"Dragon!" I shouted over the din of battle only a second before corrupted fire rained down on us. I grabbed Sera by her waist as she was stood beside me and pulled her under my shield. Barriers erupted just in time, the enchantments upon my armor protecting me as well, but the sheer heat of the dragon's flames was enough to make me cry out.

"Friggin' archdemon, friggin' Coryphallus!" She started howling like a wild cat, curses enough to make a mercenary blush spilling from her mouth. "Let me go, Jackboot! Need to put a few more arrows in their faces!"

I let her go, standing and taking a blow from the Red Templar before it landed on her. "Where is it, Sera?!"

"Circling! Gonna come back!" She shouted back.

Ice erupted to either side of us, encasing the enemies around us. I looked over my shoulder, Meira had made it. Her face was frightening. Her starlight eyes burning like molten silver, frost dancing off her eyelashes, hair, ears and fingers. Snowflakes curling out from her parted lips.
She Fade-stepped, in one hand her spirit blade—far larger than usual—and in the other a conjured blade of shadow flames and ice. Cracking like lightning as she moved, her blades swept through the Red Templars. She popped into existence before me as behind her they burst apart.

The dragon roared in fury and a second too late, I shouted, "RUN!"

Turning as I grabbed Meira's hand, we ran for the drawbridge. The neck beneath our feet shook violently as the dragon crashed into it. I stayed on my feet, pulling Meira to my side. Pulling, I pushed us forward, the stone buckling from under us. The others were before and behind us, Bull's gap in the enemy quickly closing. I heard Meira grunt as she froze those in our path, but the neck was crumbling too quickly. We wouldn't make it.
I let out a yell as it gave way beneath us, Meira's hand slipping from mine. Something hit my back, shoving me towards the drawbridge. I threw my sword, it clattering and skidding into the Red Templars slaughtering the force within the gatehouse. I grabbed the edge of the drawbridge and yanked myself up. Panic tore at me, my eyes searching for Meira.
I spotted her and watched as she phased in and out of the mortal plane, Fade-stepping off of the falling debris. My heart threatened to pound out of my chest. Please, Maker! Andraste! The debris paused, magic wrapping around it as it began to rise and piece itself together, but she was too far ahead of the magic's reach.

Meira launched herself off a final piece, ice jutting out as it hurled her, hand outstretched to me. "CULLEN!"

I slammed flat to the drawbridge, extending my hands out. For a terrifying second, I thought I wouldn't be able to catch her. Then her hand was in mine. The force of it nearly dragged me off the drawbridge, but I caught the edge in time and she froze my hand and arm to it. We dangled off a second before I pulled her up to my chest, my muscles screaming, before I sat her on my arm. We were both panting and sweating as we looked at each other.

"This isn't the right time," she gasped for breath, "But I'd really love to kiss you right now."

"We live, beloved," I panted, "You're free to kiss me all you like."

"I'll hold you to that," she breathed.

I nodded. "But I did promise to catch you." She laughed breathlessly. The dragon was circling back, we needed to get up and fast. "Forgive me for this."

"For wh—" She began before I lifted her up by her rump, palm firmly pressed against it as I pushed her up onto the drawbridge. She flipped onto her belly and iced herself into place. Holding her hands out to me, I took one. She helped pull me up by my hand and chestplate, using her magic to bolster her strength.
"You're so heavy!" She grumbled in frustration.

"You expected me to be light?!" I groused back, exasperated, both of us pulling until I could get a leg up. Letting out a unified noise of relief, her ice melting away, we tumbled upon the drawbridge, I thankful for its sturdy build and heavy chains.

"Not how I would've had you touch my bum for the first time, but beggars can't be choosers," she wheezed at my side before rolling to stand.

"This is hardly the time for jesting, love," I growled as I pushed myself up to stand. Bull, Cassandra, Vivienne and Dorian were there doing what they could to aid those in the gatehouse.

"We both just nearly died, I think I'm entitled to a joke," she panted as she conjured an ice blade and handed it to me, "If we're going to die, might as well do it with a smile on our face."

I took the blade and readied myself to charge the gatehouse. The dragon made to attack again, but this time the ballistae shot volley after volley causing it to veer off course. "We're not dying," I vowed.

"I'll hold you to that too," she challenged as a barrier of her's rippled around me.

Together we ran until we slammed into the fray within the gatehouse. It was chaos, but I found my senses cleared with the adrenaline of battle, able to push out the red lyrium with it and the barrier around me. Shield took blows and dealt them. Blade parried and struck. But we were stuck, unable to get to the lower bailey. One of the Red Templars shattered the ice blade with a spear of red lyrium, leaving me with only a shield. The Red Templar made to attack, only to have it's head cleaved.

"Nice of ye to join us, Commander," Rylen called as he kicked the body off his sword and pressed up against my back. He passed me my metal blade. "Blighters arrived three days ago. Barely got everyone inside in time."

"Why didn't you send word?!" I hissed.

"Tried," he grunted as he blocked a blow with his shield, "Shot down the birds." He thrust his blade into his attacker. "Guess they're raging because they weren't invited to yer ball."

"How did the portcullises open?" I demanded.

"Afraid we've another rat," he hissed.

"Maker's breath," I swore before bashing away a blow and slicing open the belly of a Red Templar, their insides that spilled out were coated in red lyrium and where any blood should have poured, the substance grew instead. "Andraste, preserve us. What have they done to themselves?"

"I'm not sure who's leading this force," Rylen stated.

"I just thank the Maker you were here," I growled.

"It was truly providence, Cul," he replied, his voice earnest.

The neck repaired behind us, I saw the others racing across. The dragon tried to attack again, but the ballistae atop the towers fired more volleys, magic now mixed in as mages came to the soldiers' aid. It screeched in agitation, pulling back before it could get close. Instead, it turned its attention to the castle, but magic was hurled at it there as well. A great roar that did not belong to the dragon tore through the air as Ellana got closer, the templars behind us rallied, coming to flank us.
Rylen and I turned just in time to be slammed into by a hulking mass of corrupted flesh. Arms crushed around us as the monster picked us up. I lost all sense of orientation as the stench and cacophony of red lyrium overwhelmed my senses, too close to drown it out. Using us like shields, it barreled through the line of soldiers into the upper bailey before throwing us to the ground. We quickly rolled to our feet.
Several of the Red Templars fell into the trenches, meeting a brutal death on the ends of pikes. Venatori mages revealed themselves from within our soldiers and sealed them up. Maker's breath, we have got to stop leaving the gates open for anyone to enter. The Red Templars had broken through, fighting erupting all around, arrows raining down from above. We have to hold them here. Rylen and I stood together and faced our attacker.

"Well, well, well," a familiar voice ushered from the hulking creature's hideous mouth, "I was hoping I'd run into you. It's been a long time, hasn't it, Rutherford? I assume it's you anyway, she said you wore fur about your shoulders."

"Who are you?" I demanded. "Who told you?"

"Of course, you wouldn't remember," the voice sneered, "No one wants to remember templars like me. Not even the Chantry for whom I threw my life away. But the red…the red gave it back."

"You've turned your back on everything you swore to," I snarled.

"They turned their backs on us," it hissed back, "Used us up and then threw us away." Its crimson eyes looked at me, most of its twisted face exposed.
"You know it's true. You left. All they've ever done is use us to keep their precious magickers penned up like good little monsters. Fed us lies about some righteous and noble cause, told us we were servants of the Maker Himself—Andraste's own bloody soldiers. Gave us lyrium and told us the pain, the hunger, the addiction had purpose. That as our mind slips away, it's an honorable sacrifice for the greater good. And when we've lost our minds? They send us off to some quiet place to die in agony as our lyrium runs out." He smiled and something in it tugged at memories.
"But not the Elder One. No. He gave us the red, gave us life anew, gave us real purpose. He'll tear down the lie that is the Chantry, that is the Maker, and give us a faith that's realized. A god who'll care for his followers. Mages, templars, common folk, all living in peace as together we worship the Elder One."

"You just leave out the part where any one who doesn't worship your darkspawn will be killed for disobedience," I bit back, "I think I'll stick with the Maker who gives us the choice."

The creature shrugged and chuckled. "I think a certain…acquaintance of ours would find you entertaining. He's rather obsessed with choices."

As he kept talking, I surveyed the battlefield. Our soldiers were holding their own against the Red Templars, all paths out of the lower bailey blocked. Arrow after arrow flew, whittling away at their numbers.
The able people of Skyhold were doing their part as well—running arrows, water, flammables and medicinal supplies to the soldiers. Past the blockades, my eyes caught on hair the same color as my own. Rosalie and Mia were among the runners. Panic flooded in my chest for a heartbeat before I willed it to calm.
Of course they would do their part to help. Curse our foolish stubbornness. At the sight of them, I launched myself at the creature. It was surprised for a moment before it recovered, I blocking an incoming swing from his arm.
"Protect our people, soldier!" I ordered, "I'll deal with this!"

"Ser!" Rylen shouted back.

Past the creature's shoulder, I could see Vivienne, Ellana and Meira's spectral blades blazing through several templars and Venatori as they arced through the air. Sera and Varric had joined the archers, tallying who'd killed the most. Bull had found The Chargers, he on a bloody rampage through the enemy. Dorian was raising the dead, my hair standing on end, to fight for us. Solas's rift magic tore through the Red Templars, lightning arcing through the metal armor and burning them within. Blackwall and Cassandra led small groups in a charge. Cole was flitting around the battlefield, his daggers finding those who'd left themselves open. For the moment, we had the upper hand.
The creature and I fought, I clearly the more skilled with weapons. But what he lacked in skill, red lyrium made up for in speed and strength. It took everything I had to block his strikes, to roll and parry, and though I refused to admit it, the red lyrium was getting to me, leeching through the barrier.
The song, the smell, the heat wafting off of it was worming into my mind. It was becoming hard to breathe. I got my shield up again, the force of his swing sending vibrations up my arms.

"How long has it been, Rutherford?" The monster questioned, "Over ten years?"

"I don't know you!" I barked.

"I suppose I have changed a bit on the outside," the creature sighed, "I should give you a little hint." Another grotesque smile as he seized my shield with his bestial hands. "You still owe Godwin and I a favor."

I stood upon the dock overlooking Lake Calenhad. The walls of the tower had felt too tight, the screams of the others ringing in my ears, the barracks too empty. It had taken all I had not to run out of the tower. Sweat dripped down my back, the still new scars from Desire and the blood mages itching at the sensation. The water of the lake lapping against the dock reminded me of my boyhood escape and calmed my nerves a fraction as I thought of home.

"Rutherford?" A voice called from the shadows and I turned. "Out here again?" Carroll, the templar whose main post was to ferry people to and from the tower stepped out.

"What of it?" I bit.

"Always so touchy now," Carroll sneered, "It's not my fault I was posted to the ferry and you were inside. Greggles refused to let anyone through but the Warden and her companions."
 I crossed my arms over my chest, rage abating only slightly. I had grown jealous and contemptuous of the other templars that had survived. That had remained safe behind a locked door at the bottom of the tower. That did not bear scars beyond counting, both mental and physical. I ran a hand over my face, pulling myself out of my thoughts. My hand was shaking. I grabbed it with the other, trying to still it.
 "Starting to get to you, is it?" Carroll questioned, a brow quirked.

"What?" I hissed.

"Your hands are shaking." His eyes looked over me, assessing. "Nightmares?"

"So?" I clenched my jaw and looked away.

"You need more lyrium."

A wry twist of my lips. "I'm not allotted more."

"Just because you're not allotted, doesn't mean you can't get more," Carroll stated, his voice hinting that he knew how.

That hunger clamped down on my throat as I knew slaking it would quiet the screams. "What do you mean?"

"See the mage, Godwin," Carroll said, "Tell him I sent you."

"Carroll?!" I exclaimed as I pulled myself from the memory, shame and anger washing through me.
I had sought Godwin out, taken more than I was rationed until Greagoir had caught me. Between my changed behavior towards the mages and this newfound addiction, he'd sent me to Greenfell both to help and as a warning. If I did not get myself sorted out, he would expel me from the Order.
While my attitude towards mages was not softened, the templars and sisters at the Chantry, as well as being away from Kinloch Hold had helped me curb a severer dependency upon lyrium before it begun. The only thing that spared me from dismissal after beating those three mages was the discovery that they too had been acolytes of Uldred—not that it truly made a difference, but to the Order, it was excusable. Instead, solitary confinement and the transfer to Kirkwall were my punishments.
A part of me wished now that Greagoir had cast me out of the Order. For in Kirkwall I was allotted more lyrium—which I did not question—and my rage towards the mages had only grown. Until…everything had happened. And perhaps in that, I realized, the Maker had kept me in the Order to break me of my anger.

"Knew you'd get it," Carroll laughed, those memories and thoughts passing in seconds. The sound of his laugh was like metal scraping on metal.
"You had such a terrible time sleeping after Uldred's little revolt. Until, I pointed you to Godwin. Tell me, Commander, do you still have trouble sleeping?"
He jerked the shield, my bones straining as it hit me in the chest. The air in my lungs whooshed out. "As I recall, there was a certain someone at the center of your nightmares."
He bashed me again, pressing his weight down on me, my knees buckling. "Neria, was it?"
He ripped the helmet off my head before a great fist collided with my face. "She returned to the tower you know, after chasing you to Kirkwall. That nasty little brand on her forehead. Had Greggles and Irving all out of sorts it did."
His fist hit me again. "Was that your doing? Heard you were Knight-Captain. Can't blame you if so. Certainly made her more…agreeable."
Once more his fist collided with my face, my nose breaking, water streamed from my eyes as blood poured from my nostrils, black on the edges of my vision. "Never was able to test out how agreeable, though. Irving, the mother hen that he was, kept a close eye on her. Greggles too. Was satisfying to run them through with my blade. Then she and another little knife-ear escaped the tower before I could find them."
He kicked me to the ground, I could hear distant shouts of my name. Something had shifted in the battle. The Veil had thinned, inhuman roars that were not the Red Templars filling the air. Demons. "Pity."
He pulled me up by my hair. "How does it feel to be brought low once more, Rutherford? Once so high and mighty, now weak in the face of true sacred power." He threw me to the ground.

"Cullen!" A familiar voice screamed, closer. Rosalie's voice.

"What's this?" Carroll laughed, "A lovely little gnat?"

"Get away from him, you monster!" She shouted.

Grinding my teeth, I breathed past the pain and forced my mind to clear. I opened my swollen, watering eyes to find Rosalie charging Carroll, a blade in hand. "Rose!" I bellowed, "NO!"

Carroll laughed again as he caught her by the throat before she'd even landed a swing. "Venatori! Show these maggots what real mages look like!"
More inhuman wails sounded. Demons erupted all around. Carroll broke Rosalie's sword arm, screams of pain tearing from her as her bones protruded, and threw her down a little ways from me. I tried to crawl to her, but he pinned me beneath his boot.
"Duhaime! I've a wonderful sacrifice for you!"

"Cullen!" Rosalie cried, her scream so hoarse, so full of pain it tore at my insides.

I saw the abject terror in her eyes, tears streaming down her beautiful face, as she stared wide-eyed at the malicious mage stalking towards her, a sickening grin on his face. Dagger dragged across flesh, crimson floating on an invisible wind before clinging to Rosalie's skin. Panicked sounds came from her parted lips as she frantically tried to wipe it away with her good arm.
It only clung harder to her, webbing across her body. She lifted a delicate hand to her face, watching the blood grow. Her hand shook before she began screaming at the top of her lungs, falling back in convulsions, her broken arm flopping grotesquely.
Maker! Andraste! Please! Please! Please!
 I howled like a wounded animal, fingers clawing at the ground in my vain effort to get to her.

"Wishing you had the lyrium in your veins now, eh, Rutherford?" Carroll mocked above me. "Such a shame something so pretty must perish in so nasty a way."

"I'll kill you," I spit as I turned to look at him, "I swear—"

He kicked me in the face, something else breaking. "—You can't even stand. You don't even have the strength to face me. No, you'll lay here helpless in the dirt and watch her die before I gut you like a pig."
He kicked me again, breaking a few ribs as my armor dented. He rolled me onto my back, before plunging my sword into my gut. "How does it feel, Cullen? To have failed so miserably? To watch her suffer as you did?"
Carroll laughed, driving my blade further in. "I heard your pathetic screams as they tortured you. We all did before the so-called Hero rescued you. And now listen—" he paused to hear Rosalie's broken cries, "—how sweet is that sound?"
His armor creaked as he bent to me, sinking my blade all the way through to the ground. Through my blurred vision I could make out a crystal of red lyrium. "You could help her you know? All you need to do is join us."

"Never," I gasped.

I laid upon the ground, wounds seeping, ears filled with the sounds of Rosalie's pain, the tides of battle turning, eyes streaming with tears. I felt my heart thudding in my chest, once so strong as it pumped lyrium through my veins and now I was no more than a mortal man. I let out a shuddering breath as I realized I would not save her and I would die here just as Carroll said.
He laughed once more as he stood, wrenching my blade out, before kicking me hard to roll me over where I could not look away from Rosalie. Her mouth was open in a silent, never ending scream as cuts continued to erupt along her skin feeding the blood mage torturing her. I reached a hand out, her name on my lips.
Maker. Andraste. Is this what you've called me to do? To die an arm's length away from her as I fail her once again?
The thuds of my heart were slowing, growing weak in my chest. As if mocking, so faint I could barely hear it, the song of lyrium hummed in my mind. A melancholy tune, as if in mourning, calling out to me.
Rosalie's terrified eyes met mine. 'If an apostate tried to hurt me, would you save me, Cul?'

"What the h—" I heard Carroll begin before the ground beneath me shook at an impact.

Blinking, trying to focus, to keep my soul on this side of the Veil a moment longer, a figure stood before me. Shadowy wings spread wide, armor made of the Fade itself and ice magic so cold it seemed to sap the life out of the very air around whomever stood before me.

"You will not touch him again," the figure spit.

Armor clinked as Carroll laughed once more. "Oh, goody. Samson told me about you. His elven lover, I assume? The other must be a sister given how much she looks like him. It seems I'll have the pleasure of robbing him of the both of you before he bleeds out on the grass."

That cold grew even colder, but tendrils of warmth wrapped around me, spreading through my veins. "Samson has never faced me. Nor have you. I assure you, you will not make it out of this fortress alive."

"So scary," Carroll scoffed, "Like any mage, even you can be subdued. I will thoroughly enjoy bringing you to your knees." I heard the noise of snapping fingers. "Besides, a little birdie told me how to deal with you. Would you care to join us, Elizabeth?"

Carroll and the Venatori maleficar stood to either side as before me a monstrosity limped out from the fray. Demons were everywhere, Red Templars even more corrupted than they had been were slaughtering our soldiers by the dozen. It was taking everything they had for the others not to fall.
But the most horrific thing I had yet seen in this battle was the woman shambling towards me. She had been pretty once. Flame-colored hair, pale skin covered in freckles, brilliant sapphire eyes and a brazen spirit that knew no master. This ghost before me was her shattered remains.
Black veins webbed across her mutilated skin, crimson eyes bespoke horrors untold, and blood-red crystals were jutting out of her. They'd cruelly shaved her head and beaten her nearly beyond recognition. As she approached, her one arm that remained unchanged held her stomach, the other dragging behind her, a great spear of red lyrium.

"You see, we found the little rat along with your other spies in Emprise du Lion," Carroll began, "I'm afraid none of them faired well during their stay. Little Lizzy made a choice. But I think she'd choose differently if given the chance."

Rosalie cried out again. Everything slowed, a strange quality to the air. The figure before me turned, now bathed in starlight. Silver eyes met mine, moon white hair dancing on a wind, and a face so devastatingly beautiful I believed it a creature of the Fade.
"My lion," it called, something stirring in me, "It's time to rise." Those silver eyes burned brighter as healing magic knit me back together, my heart beating harder in my chest. That song growing louder.
"I know your past haunts you, but it does not define you. Stop being afraid of it. Listen, my knight. Listen and sing." Sing? At those words, I heard that melody that sounded in my nightmares now, a song I drew strength from to face them. I wondered if this were some fever dream, brought about from my dying. But time sped up again, the mortal world returning as I heard Rosalie scream for our mother.
"Remember the Fade, my love. The chains do not hold you. She needs you, Cullen. Save her."

'Uldred marked you but did not make you. You stayed you.
The center never changed kept safe like a coin in your pocket'.
 My mind quickening in its pace, I realized who was before me. Meira. The Fade. My mind went to those moments of her before me. The demon had become Alrik, feeding on her shame and I'd watched the female I loved break before me. Always so strong, so beautifully strong; the terror, the pain, the sorrow I'd heard in her voice had stirred my very soul. I'd been chained by the demon, encased in that magical cage believing I was unable to escape—that I was powerless. At Meira's being in danger, something had roared within me. A single need—a single purpose—to protect her.
Rosalie screamed, the Veil tore and a greater pride demon clawed its way out of the Fade. Meira sank to her knees and wailed in agony. Demons had surrounded her, the blood mage draining Rosalie of life using her to call forth more demonic servants from beyond the Veil. No matter what power she had gained, it seemed Meira's tie to the Fade and its denizens left her vulnerable to their corrupted versions—at least, the more powerful ones.

"Cullen," Purpose's voice commanded, "This is what you swore yourself to. To defend against evil and dark magic. We cannot help her. The demons, the blood, the summoning circles. We'll be corrupted as well and pull her with us. It's up to you. They need you. All of them. Stand."

'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 their blood the Maker's will is written'.
 Could I take that stand again? Did it even mean anything? The Order had been a lie. Templars as they were within the Chantry were no more than leashed dogs to keep the mages under subjugation.
For that was what I had become. I had stood by and let mages suffer for no other reason than fear and vengeance. The mages in the Circle, those that had done no wrong, I allowed to suffer as much as any maleficar. The Chantry had fed me lies, twisted the Chant to justify it and fed me lyrium to compel me into obedience.
Time slowed once more, in cadence with the beats of my heart. I watched demons stalk towards the female I loved—a mage—the maleficar attacking my sister, my soldiers, my friends, all those who I'd come to care about, something burned in my chest. The mages we'd allied with, Fiona leading them, fought to defend us. Red Templars cut them down, mercilessly, brutally. The greater pride demon boomed a laugh as it looked around, scoffing at us. Those few templars that were here, led by Rylen, charged it, weapons glowing white.
'Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter'. 'It was not lyrium'. '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'.
 I knew little of righteousness. If I'd learned anything in my years as a templar, it was that I knew less than nothing. The world was not always black and white. Magic not evil, templars not righteous. For magic could be wielded for righteous causes and lyrium to wreak vengeance upon the weak. I had done so, had stood by as it was done.
I'd had my innocence stripped from me at the hands of magic and believed from that point on any who wielded it were to be distrusted. To be locked away. To be branded or killed all in the name of some greater good another defined for me. I'd shoved my humanity away in the name of duty.
But here, amongst the Inquisition, a new 'greater good' was taking shape. One where mage and templar could fight together. Where mages could be free. Piece by piece my humanity was being restored as I looked not to the Chantry or the Order to define what was the greater good, but the Maker. Where Meira and I could be that girl and boy, in love, and it did not matter if I was a templar and she a mage.
For not even that had stopped me from loving her. Because it didn't matter. For as I loved her—a mage who used her magic to help, to heal, to fight alongside me for the same cause, the same dream—I remembered the truth. All men are the Work of our Maker's Hands. All. Mage, templar, mundane. It was the evil in the hearts of some mages that spurred them to use their magic to harm others. But she and those mages like her used it—just as I used my sword—to serve and protect. And as she had shown me that again and again—and through both her love for me and her own faith—had reminded me of the man I wanted to be. Through her magic had called me from my shame and challenged me to be the man I was meant to be.
Could I truly rise above all that I had done? All the sins I had committed? Could I help that dream become reality? I who had once turned my back on all that I had sworn myself to? Had failed those I was meant to lead? Had failed those I was meant to protect? Could I take that stand once more? Fight for peace, fight for justice, fight for righteousness as the Maker, as Andraste, as the Chant of Light defined it?
No, magic couldn't be made safe, mages still needed help learning control—especially those who had no one to teach them—but could I help shape a world where that help didn't come in the form of a cage? In the form of fear? Could I have a hand in steering the templars towards a new path? Was I even worthy of doing so? I left that life, no longer wanted it, and yet…
In their blood…in my blood I could still feel it. Lyrium. Not the philters, but the original infusion. The lyrium that had sundered me and rebuilt me into something new. Into a templar. Untainted, unchained, unafraid. Is it the Maker's will?
Hesitating, I focused my mind and reached. I reached out until I felt the hilt of a sword in my palm. Brimming with power, with light. I gripped that sword with all my might. That power, that strength, I never thought I'd wield again filled my being. The song loud once more.
But it wasn't the same. There was no taint to it, no compulsion beyond the want to reach for that 'other' that made me a templar. It was mine and it answered to me. The song was my voice, bold and strong, singing the harmony to a melody of that something greater.
The warmth of Meira's healing magic faded as my wounds were healed. And instead of the harsh slamming of the Fade closed, it was a gentle push to her magic. It was still there, not silenced nor dampened. Just softened.
Taking deep breaths in, my strength renewing, I grabbed my sword that Carroll had dropped next to me. And there was the proof, the white light as my hand made contact with the hilt. A bittersweet feeling pooled in my gut. The Order could be free, but we would never be free of lyrium—not truly. It had changed us within and that change was permanent; but the hope—the silver thread—was that lyrium could be ours to control. A tool, a weapon, wielded by us as we wanted, not how anyone else demanded.
It was a freedom the Red Templars sought in red lyrium, but they'd only found a crueler master. A master that twisted and corrupted. A reflection of lyrium as it was wielded by the Chantry.
Time sped up, my heart thundering in my chest. Rosalie and Meira's screams filled my ears. Demons shrieked all around as they closed in on us.

Carroll wrenched Meira up by her throat. "Why don't we find out what red lyrium does to a mage, hmm?"
Fast as lightning, Elizabeth plunged her red lyrium arm into the Venatori before wrenching it up and splitting the man in half. Turning, she lunged at Carroll, slicing off the arm that held Meira. Carroll let out a roar of pain.
"Stupid wench! You should be driven mad by the red! We should have just killed you!" Meira fell to the ground seemingly unconscious. Carroll's missing limb became solid red lyrium as he turned on Elizabeth. Demons leapt.

"Cullen!" Elizabeth's distorted voice ordered. "Now!"

Clenching my jaw, I rose. My heart pumping harder and faster as if it knew what was coming, desperate to fill me with as much lifeblood as it could, the white upon my blade growing brighter, I bashed it against my shield. Pulling from that place in my core, that part of me that was 'other' and permanent and filled with lyrium, I roared in both defiance and pain as I stripped the lyrium from it and wrenched my sword towards the sky.
'O Maker, hear my cry:
Guide me through the blackest nights.
Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked.
Make me to rest in the warmest places.
O Creator, see me kneel:
For I walk only where You would bid me.
Stand only in places You have blessed.
Sing only the words You place in my throat.
My Maker, know my heart:
Take from me a life of sorrow.
Lift me from a world of pain.
Judge me worthy of Your endless pride.
 My Creator, judge me whole:
Find me well within Your grace.
Touch me with fire that I be cleansed.
Tell me I have sung to Your approval.
O Maker, hear my cry:
Seat me by Your side in death.
Make me one within Your glory.
And let the world once more see Your favor.
For You are the fire at the heart of the world,
And comfort is only Yours to give'.
 Pouring all of my will—the will to fight this evil, to protect, to see a new future—I pulled my blade down to the earth. A blinding pillar of light slammed upon the ground and swallowed up the demons. They shrieked in panic, clawing at their eyes, curling in on themselves to hide from the light. As they were stunned, I smashed my shield and sword together, golden light bursting forth as I wrenched the Veil closed, the solid, mortal world immutable.
My knees buckled, hitting the ground hard, my body utterly spent and wracked with pain. Numerous lesser demons died instantly, but above them, a rift was open in the sky and the greater pride demon remained. Carroll and Elizabeth roared as they fought each other. Meira had crawled to Rosalie who was now healed, but both lay still.
My heart thudded slowly, strenuously, dark creeping into my vision as I gasped for breath. The others were still fighting, the demons and Red Templars proving too much. But Meira and Rosalie were alive, spared for the moment. I prayed my sacrifice would not be in vain.

"Maker, hear my cry," I prayed bitterly before collapsing upon the ground.

…

Hands pulled on me, pulled me up onto my feet. Placed my sword in my palm and my shield in my hand. The hands were warm, beckoning, urging me to get up, to keep going, to keep fighting. My heart pumped wildly, energy and strength renewed. I opened my eyes, heaving in breaths. I'd only been out for mere seconds, but as I looked to where Meira and Rosalie had been, I found Meira standing, though there was pain on her face, and Rylen carrying Rosalie back to safety.
Her silver eyes met mine, a smile of relief briefly showing. She had done that. Had called upon the spirits to restore me. Her relief was momentary as more demons poured from the rift. I readied my weapons as she came to stand next to me. We stared down the pride demon's back as it attacked the others.

"You nearly killed yourself, Cullen," she snapped, "Don't ever do that again."

"Die to protect you?" I retorted, "I'd do it a thousand times."

"As gallant as that is, my knight," she hissed, "I don't want you dying for me. I want you to live."

"Then let's kill these monsters," I growled.

"Gladly," she snarled, "But I can't get close to that pride demon. It's too powerful. What do we do?"

But before I could reply, a great, green light exploded into existence. The pride demon, Red Templars and Venatori beneath it all screamed as the light tore them to shreds, pulling them into something akin to a rift. Beyond the fray, Ellana's marked hand was glowing, her eyes burning green. She let out a feral shout before the strange magic ended.
As it did, she howled again as a tether of light lashed out to the rift above us all. Her Mark burned brighter as she yanked on the tether, the rift slamming closed. All the demons that had come from it, died instantly. The Red Templars and Venatori were stunned a moment, the entire battlefield stunned in the wake of Ellana's power.

"I had no idea she could do that," Meira breathed, "She…she opened a rift to pull the demons inside? What is the Mark?"

But we had no time to ponder the question as the tide of battle shifted back in our favor. "We have to end this now!"

Meira nodded, her spectral blade shining into existence. Side by side, we charged into battle. A barrier rippled around me and with each strike Meira landed it seemed to only grow in strength. Back to back we fought, moving around each other as if we were one. One sword, one shield, one being.
Where I left myself open, her blades or spirits protected. At her back, I kept any enemy from flanking her. I could hear her mana singing, even more clearly than before as it whispered to that 'other' melody in my core. As we regained ground, I rallying what remained of the soldiers as we charged the enemy, the Venatori mages turned to blood magic.
The Red Templars fed each other their red lyrium, shifting into nightmarish monsters. The very air became difficult to breathe as the poison of red lyrium grew beyond baring. Cursed blood cut down wave upon wave of our footmen. The tides were shifting again as little by little we whittled down to only the Inquisitor's inner circle remaining. One of the far towers exploded as the dragon landed a fireball.

"Battalion!" A familiar voice bellowed from the gatehouse, "Let's show our Lieutenant-Commander what we learned!"

Lyrium-imbued arrows and magical ones flew through the air, finding their marks. Dozens of Red Templars and Venatori fell. As I blocked a swing and thrust my blade into my enemy's throat, I watched as the Reformed Battalion charged from the gatehouse.
Barris and Solana led them, fighting together. Mage and Templar fought, protecting, aiding, encouraging each other. Magic rained down, lyrium-empowered abilities shut our enemies from further access to the Fade. Mages healed those of our footmen that could be, templars shielded them from attacks.

"Amell!" Barris shouted, "Push them back!"

Fire burst from within the battalion as the fire-being that was Solana emerged, glyphs alight on her dragon-hide armor. Red Templars and their corrupted lyrium erupted into flames at the sheer heat of her fire if they stood too close. Amell led her unit in a flanking maneuver, her spirit blade in hand, mage and templar working together to funnel our enemy back to the gatehouse. Barris's unit kept them from escaping across the bridge.

"Archers!" Solana shouted, "Release at will!"

The Venatori mages now cut off from the Fade, they turned fully to blood magic only to be met with blades, magic and arrows. It was a blood mage's one weakness: they could not heal themselves when using their magic. If you could get past the cursed blood, could live long enough to strike, nearly any wound of significance would be fatal.
The Red Templars abandoned the Venatori, feeding each other what remained of the lyrium growing from their bodies. With cries of agony, several behemoths grew. Madness taking hold, they rampaged through the bailey, destroying blockades, sweeping away dozens of the soldiers behind them. Picking some up, they used them as projectiles to hurl at the archers. Earth was wrenched from the ground and thrown at the castle. Stone exploded from the walls, great holes in our fortress.

"Take them down!" I roared at the same time Meira did.

"Alain! Trap their feet in the earth!" Barris yelled.

Alain and several other mages that manipulated the earth ran forward, the templars shielding them from their corrupted reflections. Meira charged forward as they trapped a behemoth in the earth. Ice spurt from the ground, hurtling Meira at the creature. Ice spears forming in the air before slicing through the enormous monstrosity, glacial magic fracturing across its crystalline skin. Spectral blade shimmering, she swung in a great arc, severing the creature's head from its body. She landed on her feet and turned.

"Everyone! Get ready!" Meira commanded the breastplate of her magical armor appearing, the temperature of the air plummeting. Magic swirled around her, white-blue light in her hands before she slapped them together. With a cry, magic pulsed out of her, the freezing magic spewing from her hands glaciating the remaining behemoths. The dragon roared overhead, but more volleys and magic sent it flying away.
"Now!"

All together, those closest to the beasts swung their weapons at them or released their arrows. I threw myself at the one nearest me, ice forming beneath my feet to push me further. Swinging my shield to bash one, it shattered completely. Hitting the ground, I rolled and came up to my feet.

"Rutherford!" Carroll's voice roared. I turned as he charged me, Elizabeth lying prone behind him. She'd taken from him before she fell, an arm and leg of his missing, replaced with red lyrium, all haughtiness gone.

I readied my weapons and waited. It would be hard for him to slow his momentum, I would roll at the last second and attack from behind. But before he even made it to me, an arrow sprouted from his throat. Then another and another, tearing his throat open. He fell hard. I looked for the archer. It was no one of the Inquisition, instead, they wore a cloak and bore the armor of a Grey Warden.

"It seems we're late to the party," Hawke's voice issued from behind the mysterious figure as she appeared.

"Late?" Fenris's resonant voice questioned, "I believe we've arrived right on time. Why spoil their victory? They've fought for their home. Their loved ones."

"But why let them have all the fun?" Hawke retorted.

"True." Fenris chortled.

"Is every battle a game to the two of you?" Stroud's voice questioned.

"Not a game," Hawke laughed, menacingly, "A pleasure."

Together, the three launched into battle. Between them, the Battalion and the rest of us—as exhausted as we were—we slew what remained of our intruders. When the dragon seemed to sense the battle was lost, the ballistae and mages assisting still keeping it from getting too close, it flew off.
Gasping for breath, the strength that Meira's magic had lent to me was quickly draining. The consequences of using my abilities crashing down upon me. My eyes landed upon Elizabeth's still form and I went to her. She was still alive, but only just.

"Talitha! Amell!" I shouted as I gingerly took her in my arms, avoiding contact with the lyrium growing from her. I knew it was pointless, but still, I called.

Her eyes opened at the sound of my voice. Crimson burned where sapphire once shone. "Cullen."

"Elizabeth," I said, "Thank you. You save their lives. My life."

She closed her eyes. "I'm glad." Meira and Solana knelt beside her. They both met my eyes and shook their head. Elizabeth looked at me again.
"I'm sorry. I tried to help the agents. Tried to get word to you." She yelped in pain, the crystals in her skin growing and shifting. I tried to breathe through my mouth, to push away the hunger that clawed at my insides—intensified with having used my abilities. She held up her good hand and I took it, still careful not to touch any of the crystals. There was a wad of parchment in her palm.
"This was all I could find out. But Sahrnia. Go to Sahrnia. Samson was there."

"Lizzy?!" Henry's voice shouted across the bailey.

Elizabeth gasped again. Her hand surprisingly strong as she pulled me down to her. "Forgive me. For all of it."

"You are forgiven, Elizabeth," I murmured earnestly, squeezing her hand, "Go to the Maker in peace."

"Lizzy!" Henry sobbed as he dropped to his knees beside her.

Her crimson eyes shifted to him. "Henry," she smiled, "I'm afraid I must ask you to be brave, little brother."

Henry ripped his helmet off and took her in his arms. "What are you talking about? You'll be alright!"

Her hand cupped his cheek. "I am in agony. It's eating my insides and it's all I can do not to go mad. End my suffering before I hurt someone."

"Don't ask me to do this, Liz," Henry sobbed, "We can figure something out. Dagna? The mages?"

Elizabeth shook her head, a cry of anguish slipping from her lips at the motion. "It's too late for me."

"Please, Liz!" Henry begged.

"Forgive me, Henry," she stroked his cheek with her good hand, as a mother would, "I should have told you about Lucius."

"Don't worry about that now," Henry demanded, "It's forgiven."

Elizabeth smiled before plucking the dagger from his belt. "Be happy, Henry. Live for me. Tell her how you feel. Take care of our family."

"Liz!" Henry tried to grab the blade from her, but it was too late. Elizabeth shoved it into her throat and jerked, severing the artery there but leaving the blade in as to limit the amount of blood that would spill.
"LIZ!" He held her as she died, rocking her still form as he sobbed. Discreetly, Meira froze Elizabeth's body so the lyrium would progress no further. Knowing he needed privacy to mourn, I placed a hand on his shoulder briefly before standing.

I surveyed the battlefield, rage burning in my chest. So many were dead. Skyhold damaged. Any progress made on our siege engines destroyed—which I assumed had been their ultimate goal; the attack secondary, but both meant to hamstring our progress towards marching on Adamant. The village below obliterated out of spite and to instill fear.
For the second time, they had attacked us. Attacked our home. Took lives and wreaked destruction. I thanked the Maker that it was not worse, but it did not abate the fury boiling my blood.
I went to where I saw Rylen stood over a still unconscious Rosalie, Meira checking her vital signs. Mia held her hand, worry on her brow as tears streamed down her face. Rosalie's eyes were closed, her lips parted, but I could see her chest rising and falling.

"How is she?" I questioned on my approach.

Meira didn't turn as she answered. "I made it to her just in time. She lost a lot of blood. Any longer and…" Meira breathed out a sigh of relief. "She'll need plenty of rest, fluids and red meat, but she will recover."

Mia sobbed as she cradled Rosalie to her. "Mia, I'm sorry," I murmured.

Her brown eyes looked up to me, red rimmed and glistening with tears. "You've nothing to be sorry for, Cul."

"Cullen, look out!" Rylen's voice shouted suddenly as the ring of his sword leaving its scabbard sounded.

I turned to find two soldiers rushing us, magic alight in their hands. The remainder of our rats. I ran at them, a snarl tearing from me. One cast fire, the other lightning. Reaching for the lyrium again, I slammed my weapons together. The Veil closed, their magic dissipating before it could strike.
My legs shook as my body was drained further, but I bashed one with my shield and split the belly of the other. Twisting, I cleaved the first's head from their shoulders. Gasping for breaths again, black on the edges of my vision, my knees nearly buckled.

"Easy now, Commander," Rylen's voice spoke as he caught me, "Can't have ye lookin' weak in front of the soldiers."

"Shut up, Captain," I slurred, exhausted but glad to see the man.

Meira came to my other side, the warm tingling of her magic blooming from my chest where her hand sat and spreading. "Are you alright?"

"I could use another week in bed and a desk laden with food," I grumbled, "but otherwise, I'm fine."

A breathy laugh came from her lips as they helped me sit on the stairs. Rylen gave a salute before leaving, Meira tending to my injuries. "Still against using your abilities?"

I pondered her question a moment. "I do not think I can ever go back to that life. But to use them when needed to protect the innocent and the vulnerable from evil…that I think I can do."

Her silver eyes met mine. "Isn't that what being a templar is about?"

"In its purest form," I nodded, "yes."

"That's all you ever wanted to do, Cullen," she murmured, "Was protect the vulnerable. You don't have to be a templar to do that. But you were once, you have abilities mortal men do not, can protect against evil magic and demons. To use them for that purpose…there is no sin in that."

I looked away from her. "But am I worthy of wielding them?"

Her hand came up to gently turn me to her. "Forgive me for insubordination, Commander, but yes, you are." My lips twitched.
"Can you at least accept that it does not have to be one or the other? That you can use them in dire need without having to be a templar?" Her eyes flicked between mine.
"The other templars, they look up to you. Look to you for an example. Through you, they see what they could be. And after that display, it will be even more so. Can you not help them?"

I studied her. "For you, I'll try."

She shook her head. "Not for me, Cullen. Do it for you." Something easing in my chest, I nodded. She passed me an healing potion from off her belt which I gulped down, feeling some of the pain in my body ebb.
"Can you stand? I want to check your ribs and that wound in your gut, but you'll need to remove some armor."

I swallowed thickly, but nodded and pushed myself up. The stairs brought her to my eye level and I had the impulse to kiss her. Her eyes dropped to my lips as she seemed to have the same idea. Instead, we leaned back, I not having realized how close we'd been. I followed her up to the infirmary.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "Seemed to have fared better than you, anyway." I chuckled at that.

Once inside the infirmary, which for the moment was empty as field triaging would be occupying the healers, she directed me to a cot. She pulled a screen out for privacy as I sat. Once again, she helped me out of my armor until I was down to my linen tunic. I was thankful for its removal as the part Carroll had dented was digging into my side making it hard to breathe. That done, Meira handed me an apple and some bread from what they kept on hand while she cleaned herself up.
I could hardly keep my eyes off of her, mindlessly eating the food. Using my abilities seemed to have only heightened my awareness of her mana in their wake. I could hear it, could feel it humming along her skin as her fingers grazed along my nose and right eye, her magic ascertaining that the breaks had healed correctly.
Gently, she washed away the blood on my face, scrubbing my stubble and my neck. I tried to keep silent as her hands worked over my head and arms. I had forgotten the intensity of it, of this feeling, but prayed it would again lessen with time as it was very distracting.

She cleared her throat, a blush on her cheeks as she looked at me through her lashes. "I need you to remove your tunic." My breath hitched, but I obeyed. Fingers pulling on the opening resting on the back of my neck, I worked my way out of it. She'd turned a little, and though she tried to hide it, I caught her looking, her throat bobbing a little as she did.
"Could you lie down?" She murmured.
Again I obeyed, my breath hitching more as her fingers whispered along my torso. Her eyes flicked up to mine. "Does it hurt?"

"No," I breathed, holding her eyes. Her blush burned brighter as she looked down to clean off the blood and check over the wound sights. Finished, she met my eyes which had not left her face. I'd watched her blush grow deeper and deeper; her eyes looking over me from beneath her lashes and her hands lingering longer than was necessary. And now there was something burning in her eyes as we met each others' gaze that made my stomach tighten. Slowly, I sat up, my heart beating faster as my blood heated and pooled in my gut.

"Everything seems to have healed properly," she practically whispered before she began to turn, her demureness winning out yet again, "I'll let you—"

In one fluid motion, I had stood, gently grabbed her elbow and turned her before I kissed her soundly. She melted into my mouth as she whispered my name against my lips. Sweet Maker. Then the image of her falling, of Carroll nearly taking her from me, flashed through my mind and ardor overtook reason. Fingers snaking into her hair, I pressed her lips open and forgot about the world.
I flattened my hands against her back, pulling her flush to my chest. Her arms flung around my neck as she curved harder against me. Moving, I backed us against the wall and crushed her between me and it. We broke, looking at each other. For a painful moment, I was reminded of just how small and fragile she was.
She was strong, I knew that, and capable, her magic probably better at protecting her than I ever could be, but that wasn't the fragility I was reminded of. Instead, it was the fragility of our life: how close we'd come to losing each other yet again.
I had left her in Kinloch Hold. Could have lost her in the bowels of Kirkwall and never had known. Lost her to Tranquility until a miracle brought her back. Then I'd nearly lost her in Heaven. Today she could have fallen to her death or Carroll could have taken her from me with one jerk of his hand.
The image of her mutilated, bleeding and broken in the snow swam behind my eyes. How many more times would we be able to brush death and escape? The fear of losing her sprang up and choked me. I knew in that moment that I could not live without her, but I also knew there was nothing I could do to keep her out of harm's way. And it terrified me.

"Meira—" I rasped.

"—I know," she whispered, "I was too. When I saw you…Oh, Cullen."

She met my lips again. Hungry, desperate, her hands clawing at my shoulders before they snaked into my hair. I captured her in my arms, pressing our hips together, wanting her as close as possible. My blood on fire, senses overwhelmed, heart pounding and lungs burning for air, I broke away. I kept my eyes closed a moment as I panted for breath, she doing the same. Slowly, I released her, my hands coming to cup her face. I gave her a chaste peck on her kiss-swollen lips, but she deepened it. I broke away again before I lost all reason.
My thumbs caressing her cheeks, I breathed, "We're alright, love." I wrapped her in an embrace. "We're alright."

We simply held each other for a few heartbeats until the tension drained. Her hands dug into my back as she stood on tiptoes to press a kiss under my ear. "You smell different. Like hot metal, but mixed with something sweet and clean," she murmured against my skin, her nose skimming along the column of my throat. "I like it."

"Fighting always gets me hot too," Bull's deep voice grunted behind us, causing us to snap apart, faces burning. He was clutching cotton to a wound on his arm and had a few arrow shafts protruding from his shoulder. But he was leaning against the wall with his good shoulder as if he'd been standing there for a while.
"Just something about the rush of possibly dying, blood everywhere, everybody angry and sweaty and panting…" He made a sensual growling noise as he looked over the both of us. A grin pulled his mouth, his one eye glittering as he looked at me. "Sorry, I won't be ducking behind a board, Cullen. I like watching."

"Sweet Maker!" I shouted as I dragged the screen to block us from his view, Meira laughing into my shoulder.

…

The evening was spent caring for our dead. More names to add to the list. More letters to be written. The needs of Skyhold and the village grew nearly overwhelming as everything that would need to be repaired was brought to my attention. The infirmary was overflowing now. Several of the inner circle and Battalion injured as well as our soldiers. All minor, but still enough to add salt to wounds.
Anger and sorrow were palpable on the air, like the ash in our mouths from the pyres and fires lining the bailey. The whole of the Inquisition was within Skyhold's walls. The young and old closed up beneath the main hall, the rest spread out all around. Rations were passed around, Giselle and the other Chantry members offering comfort where they could. Maryden sang a mournful tune:

"Maker, have you left me here?
Temple
Sacred Ashes
Tragic
Mark upon our land
Sky fall
Let darkness reign on thee
Now flee
From the dragon's heart
Warring
Battle-scarred eyes
Breach
Into the Fade has come
Demon
Please spare my life and our sons."

"Commander," Sela's voice called, "You're wanted in the War Room."

I nodded, handed her the various requisitions I'd signed off on and headed into the castle proper. The Battalion was within, Meira speaking with Barris and Solana. Mage and templar stood shoulder to shoulder as they spoke in angry voices. But not towards each other, towards our enemy that had taken even more from us. I met Barris's green eyes, rage in them. We nodded. Meira's starlight eyes looked to me and she excused herself from the others. Together we passed through Josephine's empty office.
A hole in the wall had been opened presumably from one of the behemoth's throwing chunks of earth at the castle or from the dragon. Moonlight streamed in. I intwined my fingers through Meira's, but we quickly broke apart as in the shadows ahead, two bodies moved into view. My hand went to my sword until I saw they bore Grey Warden armor. I had expected Stroud and Hawke's other contact—whom my mind registered with some surprise—but instead of Stroud, another stood before me.

Rage burned to near blind fury. "You?!"

"It's been a while, Knight-Captain," an oddly distorted voice spoke, eyes burning with magic.

Anders had come to Skyhold.

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