Chapter Text
The peacefulness of the valley unnerved him.
Summer birds sang from the leafy, green trees and the lake beyond the outer gate sparkled prettily in the midday sun. The barest hint of a breeze cooled his sweat-soaked skin as the sun bore down upon him.
The soldier opposite him was tapping his foot against the ground, patting his shirt pocket every so often to reassure himself the lyrium was still there. Cullen recognized the strained look on the man’s face, the impatient counting down of guard duty until the man could finally take his next hit.
Cullen readjusted his grip on the automatic weapon in his hands, taking care to wipe the sweat from each of his palms. He rubbed his forearms against the rough fabric of his fatigues, finding what small amount of relief he could at the itching that seemed to burn in his veins.
His body ached for want of lyrium. For need. He was craving it, begging for the blissful release he would find in the needle.
He pressed his eyes closed, the dull throb in his head that of the withdrawal starting to make itself known.
With a cursory glance around to confirm there was no threat, he slid a hand up into his shirt pocket and pulled out an herbal chew. If he could make it on another half an hour, he could get to the stronger tea the doctor had prepared for him.
The gate creaked open. Cullen stole a glance back at the newcomer as he worked on the chew, the medicinal herbs doing little to stop the progress of the oncoming headache.
“Commander.” Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast stepped through the gate, nodding a greeting to the twitchy soldier next to him. “Bann Trevelyan should arrive at any moment.”
The sound of rocks crunching under tires sounded as a sleek, black sedan came into view. The vehicle crawled along the dirt road toward Haven, the village that had become the base of their operations in the chaos following the explosion. Far enough from the ruins of the temple to be safe, but near enough to keep an eye on the jagged green rift in the sky. It hovered over them, like some cruel overlord, bathing the valley in its unnatural, glowing green.
Voices chirped in his ear piece as the vehicle rolled to a stop at the forward gate. The soldiers confirmed that it was indeed the noble they’d been expecting and allowed it to continue forward to the vehicle bay.
Cassandra headed down the stairs in front of them to meet their guest at the same time the inner gate swung open again, revealing the soldiers scheduled to relieve Cullen of his guard duty.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he walked toward the chantry at a steady pace. In the preceding days after the explosion, the religious building had become their center of operations, housing their military operations, infirmary, offices, and even lodging. The statue of Andraste had been relegated to a side wing, with a few pews moved in front of it to serve as the village’s chapel. The rest had been repurposed for more urgent needs.
Once inside, he headed down the stairs to what had once been a dungeon. Now it was their central operations, armory, and jail. Although they’d only used the jail cell once, for the mage with the unnatural green mark on her hand.
Evelyn Trevelyan. Mage of the Ostwick Circle. Daughter of a bann in the Free Marches. Devout Andrastian. He tried to remember what else their Director of Intelligence, Leliana, had included in the report, but those were the high points.
Cullen followed the routine he’d adopted over the preceding days. He returned the weapon to the armory, flipped the on switch on the electric kettle, and splashed his face with water. When the water was boiled, he’d prepare his herbal tea and sit down to read through whatever reports had come in during his guard shift.
With more recruits arriving each day, Cullen hoped he’d soon have enough people to keep him off guard duty. It wasn’t that he disliked it, but it had been necessary after so many had been lost in the explosion and ensuing chaos.
He was about halfway through his tea and almost completely through the reports when Cassandra appeared in the command center. “Commander, we’re convening in the war room.”
Cullen pushed himself up from the chair, downing the second half of his tea in the hopes it would help stave off the pounding in his head long enough.
They climbed the stairs, heading to the door at the back of the church. It was cracked open and Cullen could hear the cheerful voice of their ambassador, Lady Josephine Montilyet, spilling through. “We are so pleased to welcome you to Haven, Bann Trevelyan! I do hope your travel went well.”
He couldn’t make out the words in the quietly murmured response.
Cullen pushed the door open and stepped into the room. His focus was immediately drawn to the only person in the room he hadn’t seen before. The entire world seemed to slow around him. Out of the side of his eye, he saw Leliana open her mouth to speak. Somehow he knew the words of an introduction were being spoken aloud, but all he could hear was the rushing sound of silence as his heart threatened to beat through his chest as he focused on the woman in front of him.
Exquisite. She was exquisite.
Her eyes were sharp. A piercing grey against her golden brown skin. Cheeks flushed with color in the summer heat of early afternoon. Her hair was blacker than any obsidian, shining like polished stone. But his eyes focused on her lips, red and full like the late autumn apples he used to pick in the orchards of Honnleath. He wondered how they would taste and if they were as soft as they looked.
Cassandra made a quiet, disgusted noise behind him and Cullen realized the entire room was staring at him expectantly. He sucked in a deep breath, having momentarily forgotten to breathe. “Oh… Welcome to Haven. My lady.”
One jet black eyebrow lifted a fraction and a slight smirk appeared on her lush, red lips. Her eyes roamed down his body, lingering on the handgun he wore strapped to his hip, before doubling back to the patches signifying his rank at his shoulder.
“You’re rather young for a general.” The lilting timbre of her Marcher accent washed over him like smooth honey, sending a tantalizing thrill down his spine.
“Commander,” he corrected. The missing “knight” in front still gave him pause, even a year later. “One could say the same for you.”
The ambassador let out a nervous giggle, but one edge of the woman’s mouth ticked up in amusement as she extended her hand toward him. “Ariana Trevelyan. Enchanté, Commander.”
Her enunciation of the last word gave him the sense that she was teasing him, but all thoughts fell away as their hands connected. Another sensation zinged through him, setting all his senses alight in milliseconds.
Her eyes widened in shock. Cullen jerked his hand away and straightened his back, trying to regain control of his senses. She looked as stunned as he felt.
What in Thedas had just happened?
The two held each other’s gaze for several long beats of the heart until he heard the door behind him creak open and the woman shifted her gaze. Cullen knew the Herald was behind him, he could feel her magic pulsing in the in between.
He stepped back toward the wall as Bann Trevelyan dropped into a deep curtsey, the kind Cullen understood was only reserved for royalty.
“Eve.” He caught the briefest falter in the bann’s lilt as she stared at the ground near the Herald’s feet.
“Ari…" Trevelyan kneeled down in front of her and lifted her chin. “You don't need to do that. It’s only me.”
The bann grasped her sister’s hand. “After all these years I scare believed it.”
The two women rose and gave each other an awkward hug. Trevelyan looked at the others in the room. “Please excuse us. I’d like to… visit with my sister. We’ll be in my quarters.”
Before exiting the room, the bann turned to glance over her shoulder at Cullen. All the playfulness from earlier was gone, replaced with a look of concern and a deep furrow between her eyebrows.
Cullen frowned after her. One of the map markers landed squarely on his chest. He jerked his head up in surprise. “What on—”
“What were you thinking!” Josephine glared at him. “Were you trying to provoke her? We need this recognition—”
“Come now, Josie,” Leliana interrupted, her eyes twinkling as she cast a glance in his direction. “It wasn’t that bad. In fact, I believe the bann found our commander charming.”
“Charming? Charming!” Josephine’s voice was edging upwards. “Impressive. Compelling. Convincing. All words I would have liked to hear, but instead I get charming? The Inquisition needs to be taken seriously, not treated as if we are some quaint little club who enjoys quilting for sport.”
Cassandra let out a snort as she attempted to keep the laughter in.
Cullen could feel the flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. Now that the woman was no longer in the room, he could think again. He didn’t know what she’d done to him to make all rational thought flee his mind. She had no magic whatsoever, that much he could tell, but he’d been captivated by her all the same.
“You know the bann. She’s seen far worse than the likes of Cullen Rutherford. I’m sure she won’t hold it against us.”
“Of course, you’re right,” Josephine agreed tersely. “Though I had hoped that would have gone better.”
“I’m right here,” he grumbled at the two of them. He popped another herbal chew into his mouth to buy himself more time for the headache that had risen to a dull thrum.
“Well, now that we have been recognized by one of the nobility”—Josephine picked up her tablet and tapped a few times—“We should be receiving more guests any day now. I’ll schedule a few social events. Commander, how fares the building on the guest lodging?”
“Almost complete. We’ll need to start expanding the barracks soon.” He rubbed his fingers in circles at his temple.
Josephine continued, “We’ve received a message from the Hinterlands of a revered mother who wishes to meet with the Herald. The arrival of her noble sister has quickly given us some credibility within the Chantry. The Herald should depart at once to see if this Mother Giselle can provide further support before we approach Val Royeaux."
“On the topic of Bann Trevelyan…" Leliana ventured, "she needs to feel welcome with us. If we can accomplish that, we will have one of the greatest allies we could hope for right now. The bann can provide resources and legitimacy we would not have otherwise.”
“Like what?” Cullen pressed. The intricacies and political machinations of the nobility was a topic for which he had little patience. The politics of the Kirkwall nobility had been enough to last him a lifetime.
“Bann Trevelyan is one of the most powerful banns of the Free Marches. House Trevelyan has strong connections to the Chantry,” Josephine told him, “Her name alone will open doors across Thedas.”
“Not to mention her not insignificant wealth and beauty.” Leliana added, giving Cullen a pointed look at the last word.
“She’s younger than I was expecting,” Cullen protested. By the way Leliana had already latched on to his obvious attraction to her, he knew he’d hear about it for the foreseeable future.
“Maybe now you’ll read my reports,” the spymaster teased.
“I read them!”
Leliana lifted her eyebrows before addressing the entire group. “I am going to meet with the bann tomorrow to ask for her support. Formally. I ask that you all do your best to make her feel as though she belongs here.”
***
Ariana settled into a chair, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. She was already tired of being in Ferelden. The high altitude of the mountains required a fire to keep the small, stone room warm, despite the fact it was high summer. It had forced her into a worse mood than she already found herself in from the long days of travel it had taken to reach this far outpost in the middle of the Frostbacks.
She hadn’t been impressed thus far with this fledgling movement. The so-called Inquisition. The fact that they were rebelling against the bloody Chantry, the worldwide religious organization that had been the bane of her existence, was a point in their favor, but she still wasn’t sure what they were trying to achieve.
The conversation the previous night with her sister was far more awkward and painful than Ariana had imagined it could be. Nor did it yield much in the way of information. Her sister was guarded with walls so built so high over the previous decade and a half that Ariana feared she would never get through. Evelyn had been happy to see her, but she was still hesitant to trust.
No surprise given the rumors of what took place in the Circles.
She hadn’t expected a visitor when a knock sounded. Ariana crossed the room and pulled open the heavy door to find the red-headed Orlesian woman standing in front of her. “Leliana, what a surprise.”
The woman’s eyes were sharp as they assessed her. “Good afternoon, Bann Trevelyan. Do you have a moment?”
Ariana stood back and opened the door wide to allow the woman to enter. “Please, come in.” Ariana motioned for her to have a seat in the only chair and sat herself on the edge of the bed.
“You made it to Haven rather quickly.”
“I’ve been looking for my sister for fifteen years. I came as quickly as I could.”
“Did you know she was here even before you received our message?” Leliana’s face gave nothing away.
“How would I have known without it?”
Leliana gave her a meaningful look. “I wondered whether or not your network notified you she was attending the Conclave.”
Ariana returned the look evenly. It wasn’t possible that this woman knew Ariana’s involvement, was it? She had to be fishing.
At her silence, Leliana continued, “If you are attempting to ascertain whether or not I am aware of your activities in the Free Marches, then let me be clear. I am.”
Ariana forced a look of confusion onto her face despite the rapid pounding in her chest. “And what activities might those have been?”
Leliana gave her a gentle smile. One that was both genuine and encouraging. “Your assistance to the apostate mages saved many lives.”
“Who are you?” Ariana asked flatly. This woman definitely knew, but Ariana didn’t understand how that could be possible. Very few people were aware of her involvement with the mage underground. And most of them were dead.
“Me?” Leliana shrugged, “Left Hand of the Divine. Director of Intelligence for the Inquisition. It was not easy information to come by, I assure you. And before you ask, no, I have not shared that information to anyone else. However, your experience and discretion would be invaluable to us.”
“Why would I want to help this little movement?”
Leliana gave her another smile. “Divine Justinia intended to reform the Chantry and its treatment of mages. I believe that is why she was murdered, as was Grand Cleric Elthina before her. The Inquisition was intended to stop the fighting. Our purpose has… shifted slightly, but the Divine’s original intent still stands.”
Ariana looked toward the small fire crackling as she considered the woman’s words. “And what would you have me do?”
“Be an agent of the Inquisition. Your ability to move at the highest levels will certainly open doors that otherwise might prove difficult. No one will question a powerful noble, the Herald of Andraste’s sister no less.”
“What? Herald of Andraste?”
“That’s what the people call your sister.”
“They believe she’s a prophet? And you let them?”
Leliana shrugged. “People will believe what they want to believe. It hasn’t hurt.”
“You. It hasn’t hurt you. But what about her?”
“Well, she’s involved. That mark on her hand couldn’t have escaped your notice. But I am offering you a choice.”
Ariana let out a long sigh as she considered what the spymaster had offered her. “Who will know?”
“For now, only us. There may become a time that it is prudent the other advisors, and possibly even your sister, are made aware.”
“I will consider it.”
“That’s all I ask.” Leliana stood and made a move toward the exit. “And Bann Trevelyan, you should know that your assistance could very much change the course of this ‘little movement’.”
For several minutes after the spymaster left, Ariana thought back to the years before the Mage-Templar War. Back to when the Starkhaven Circle burned to the ground and the mages were transferred elsewhere in the Free Marches. Most of them ended up in the Gallows of Kirkwall. She’d been searching for her sister when she came across an apostate and former member of the paramilitary force known as the Grey Wardens working in Kirkwall. He, unfortunately, had never seen nor heard of her sister, but offered to keep an ear to the ground in exchange for her assistance.
So she did. Her money and resources helping mages escape from the Gallows. There had been whispers of the abhorrent things Templars had done to mages there as they attempted to beat them into submission and Ariana was more than willing to provide whatever support she could to free mages from that tyranny.
It wasn’t only the Gallows, but all of the Circles. Ansburg. Hasmal. Markham. And Ostwick. The Circle next door where her sister had been all along.
Her stomach roiled as she thought of the atrocities they’d heard from mages that escaped. She’d felt so helpless in those days as she sat safely in her gilded cage at Southwatch while her friends and compatriots put their lives on the line to move mages safely through the Free Marches.
At least, they had until the Templars, led by the knight-captain in Kirkwall, shut them down. It was only then that Anders took matters into his own hands, blowing up the Kirkwall cathedral, and prompting all void to break loose. Those were frightening days as Ariana lived in fear of the Templars getting wind of her involvement.
Wait a minute.
She sat up straight, wracking her brain for the piece of information that seemed to be there, hovering out of reach…
“How is that possible?” The words, spoken aloud, surprised her in the quiet room.
Rutherford was a Fereldan name. It had always stood out in the Free Marches, but she remembered hearing that the knight-captain had been transferred to Kirkwall from Ferelden’s Circle after an “incident.” In her youthful naivety, she thought it prudent that she not recognize the knight-captain on sight. At least that way she wouldn’t act suspicious if she ever found herself in his presence. The past four years had given her the gift of hindsight, showing her the recklessness of her ignorance in those days.
The man she’d met the previous day definitely carried himself like a templar, but he’d introduced himself as Commander. Not Knight-Commander.
Could he possibly be the same Cullen Rutherford from Kirkwall?
She’d always imagined the knight-commander to be… different. A cruel old man with evil in his eyes. In all the nights she spent trying not to think of him, the man she’d met yesterday had never once even crossed her mind.
He was overwhelmingly beautiful. So much so that he’d stolen the air right out of her lungs. Stunned as she tried to catch her breath, tried to remember who she was and what she was doing here. He had the most singular eyes. Like molten gold. And she had stepped in and allowed herself to be pulled under, not caring or wanting to find her way back out.
She didn’t want it to be true. Didn’t want him to be that nightmare made flesh. But deep within her she knew it was.
Ariana knew what she had to do.
She strode out into the chantry, toward the room at the back of the building. She heard his muffled voice through the doorway, along with the voices of several others.
Deciding not to interrupt, she hovered nearby until the door creaked open and the man she’d been waiting for stepped through. He stumbled as he caught sight of her, his golden eyes widening in surprise.
“A word, Commander?”
Leliana arched an eyebrow as she looked between the two of them, but kept walking. The other two women followed the spymaster, only Josephine pausing to cast a look back in concern.
“I have ten minutes,” he told her as he gestured her back toward the room. He waited for her to enter the room first, then pulled the door shut behind them.
An awkward silence descended on the room as he ran a hand through his hair, the golden curls popping out from beneath his tanned fingers. She wondered how his hands would feel tangled in her hair.
He looked at her expectantly. “How can I be of service, Lady Trevelyan?”
“Bann Trevelyan," she snapped. "I am a bann of the Free Marches. Do not reduce me to a mere noble.”
His winced at her vehemence. “I apologize, Bann, I meant nothing by it. I… I forgot my place for a moment. It shall not happen again.”
She walked to the large table in the middle of the room, eyes raking over the map laid out across it. She’d noticed it the previous day. A full map of Thedas. Interesting for such a small movement to already be focusing so large.
The commander was still standing behind her and she could hear him shifting, his clothes rustling as he moved his weight from one leg to the other. He didn’t make a move toward her, but Ariana was acutely aware of his presence all the same.
She picked up one of the metallic map markers shaped like a fist. She turned it over in her hand a few times before placing it deliberately on the map, right on top of Kirkwall.
“I hadn’t expected to find Knight-Captain Cullen of Kirkwall in this backwater Fereldan village.”
He stiffened behind her. “You know who I am?”
Ariana turned, leaning back against the table as she crossed her arms across her chest. “How could I not? You had quite the reputation in the Marches.”
“I did?” His brows furrowed in confusion.
“Oh yes. A great many atrocities happened under your watch.”
“Atrocities? What are you—"
“Your templars were not subtle. You allowed countless mages to made tranquil, to be raped, to be murdered—”
His eyes flashed at her accusations and his hands tightened into fists. He took a deep breath in before he looked into her eyes. The gold swirled with intensity. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, Commander.” She gave him a patronizing look. “Have you ever spoken to a mage? I have. And I believed them when they told me about what they’d lived through.” She couldn’t keep the disgust from her voice. She could still hear the cries of the mages at night as they relived their experiences in the Fade, fighting the demons that sought to take advantage of their condition.
“Why would mages tell you?” He stepped toward her. Ariana could almost see his mind working as he tried to put together the pieces of what she was telling him.
“They wanted to die after the hell your Order put them through!” She raised her voice, pushing herself off the table and enunciating each word to drive the point home.
He opened his mouth to argue, but she lifted her hand, holding up a finger to silence him. “Before you continue that thought, I am sure it has not escaped your notice that my sister is a mage who spent the majority of her life in one of your Circles,” she spat.
They were face-to-face, staring at each other as the seconds ticked by, waiting to see who would blink first. Ariana was so close to him. She could see the dark circles under his eyes and the exhaustion that was etched across his face. The flecks of gold in his eyes shimmered in the dim lighting of the room. She’d almost forgotten what they were talking about when his eyes widened in realization.
“The mage underground.”
“Well done.” She closed her eyes to give herself a brief respite from his intense gaze, but instead she found herself wrapped up in the scent of him. There was something that hinted at home, almost as though he smelled of summer itself. Like flowers and sunshine. Rain and rebirth.
Her eyes popped back up before she could follow that trail of thought too far. The commander had an odd look on his face. He took a step away from her, before lifting his hands to rub circles at his temple. “Bann, will you please tell me what it is that you hoped to… get out of this conversation.”
She crossed her arms again. “Leliana has asked me to join the Inquisition, but I can’t do that when one of its leaders hates mages.”
He sighed, rolling his head around his neck before answering her. “I don’t hate mages.”
“That’s not what I heard.” Ariana took a step toward him. She wouldn’t say she was getting in his face, exactly, but she was certainly making her presence known. She set her jaw as she stared into his eyes, watching the way they flashed in annoyance. She couldn’t believe how expressive his eyes were.
“As you’ve made clear,” he leaned toward her. “Do I fear them? Yes, I admit that freely. But the aftermath of the mage rebellion—”
“You mean templar aggression?” Ariana scoffed.
The look he gave her was not gentle, but it set something aflutter inside of her.
“Mage rebellion,” he continued. “The aftermath of that made evident the… error of my ways. I am no longer a Templar. I could no longer follow the direction the Order has taken.”
They glared at each other. At least, that’s what it started out as. But Ariana’s breath caught in her chest as the glares turned into gazes. She was unable to form an entirely coherent thought as competing emotions roiled inside of her. Distrust and anger were still there, somewhere, but something new was pushing at the fringes. Something dangerous and powerful.
He began to lift his fingers toward her face, slowly, as though he didn't believe she was real. The movement was enough to snap her out of whatever trance she’d found herself in. Ariana forced herself to take a step back as the commander blinked at her, his hand dropping to scratch absentmindedly at his forearm.
His admission had taken her aback as she had not been expecting for him to say he’d left the Order.
But that wasn’t that had shocked her so thoroughly. It was the way everything else seemed to fall away when she was with him. That he all but consumed her by sharing the same space with her.
Ariana didn’t know what to think.
***
It was not outside the realm of possibility the Maker might smite him for the unholy thoughts that were running through his head at that moment. He’d thought Ariana Trevelyan was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on and now he knew that the would never meet anyone else so captivating.
She was fury personified, her jet black hair loose and wild around her face, her pale grey eyes piercing through what little armor he had left. The anger gave her cheeks that same flush he’d noticed yesterday and he knew without a doubt that the heart hammering so forcefully as though it were attempting to jump out of his chest straight into her hands.
After the long silence, she finally spoke, “Thank you for your honesty, Commander.”
He let out a long sigh, dropping his eyes to the map on the table she brushed past to the door behind him. Cullen willed himself to take deep breaths to calm himself before following. The scent of fresh plums and honey hovered in the air where she’d been. Maker, this woman had been in Haven less than a full day and she was already driving him mad.
It had to be the lack of lyrium. It had to be his brain attempting to replace the lyrium with something, anything that he might desire, and Maker help him… he desired Ariana Trevelyan more than he’d ever wanted anyone, anything in a long time.
Not since he’d wanted to be a templar.
He needed to report to the command room, but he could sense the lyrium-fueled migraine forming at the back of his head again. He was in no condition to be dictating the movement of the troops today.
After finding someone to cover his duties, Cullen headed out into the bright light of the late morning toward his tent. It was a small space, holding little more than his sleeping bag and some personal effects. The rest he kept in the barracks with those of the other soldiers, but Cullen still found it difficult to sleep in the confined space of the building.
He refilled his pocket with herbal chews as he contemplated what to do next.
Doctor Adan wasn’t the best healer he’d encountered, but the man was working entirely without magic. That made his healing abilities all the more impressive. The doctor had recommended and provided several herbal remedies for the headache, various teas, chews, and capsules, but Cullen knew that the lyrium withdrawals were well on their way to being unmanageable with herbs alone.
Truth be told, he was avoiding the other doctor. The elven mage who’d arrived after the Breach ripped its hideous green gash in the sky. Cullen still didn’t entirely trust the man, although he had no real reason not to. Except that there was something… off about him. The man was elven, as evidenced by the pointed ears that popped out from his bald head, but his face was naked. He was not from an alienage, nor was he Dalish. Cullen didn’t know what to make of him and, because of that, he preferred to avoid the man altogether.
But the herbs were reaching their limit. He didn’t want to resort to magic, but he may have no other choice if he hoped to rid himself of the addiction.
Today was not the day for that, however. Instead, he returned to the chantry. His feet knew well the path to the makeshift chapel. Although he was no longer a templar, prayer still gave solace to his weary soul. The solitude of this little forgotten corner was his peace amidst the uncertainty of the world around him.
The previous fortnight had been chaos. He took time to focus on what he had been through, what they had all been through. All of the hopes and dreams that the Inquisition had put into the Conclave. The explosion that shredded those dreams. The aftermath of demons pouring through the rifts. And most of all, he thought of that day that had rocked his world to the very core.
The dead and injured littered the battlefield. Melee was never clean. He’d not been able to reach inside the charred ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, blocked by a large rift in the Veil out front.
Time crawled as they defeated demon after demon. Every time they thought they finally had a break, more would appear and they’d begin all over again. After each wave of demons, he prayed for the Maker, for Andraste, to hear the desperate pleas of His children and deliver them from the darkness that was overtaking the world.
When the arc of green light shot into the rift, lyrium coursed through his veins, begging to be released. He had to forcefully prevent himself from purging the area of the magic ripping through the air, twisting the Veil around him.
He didn’t have time to see where it was coming from as yet another demon bore down on him. The demon swiped at him, the creature's large claw heading straight for Cullen’s head.
But the hit never came.
Instead, a sparkling amethyst barrier surrounded him. The demon disintegrated before his eyes as lightning connected with it, arcing off to strike several other demons nearby, taking them out one by one.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as the barrier disappeared. A fresh barrage of purple energy shot across the battlefield to where more demons poured out of the rift. The fragments resembled stars as they arced through the air, twinkling in the late afternoon sun.
It was extraordinary. Beautiful, even. But even in his awe, Cullen felt a chill run through him.
He looked behind him and found a small woman with snow white hair. Battle staff in hand, arms open wide, the woman had a look of intense concentration on her face. She was flanked by the Seeker and the elven man, Doctor Solas, on each side. After spending the past decade with mages of varying abilities, he knew that it took a mage of considerable magic and skill to achieve what she had done.
With the last of the demons dispatched, he watched the mage lift her left hand, the mark embedded in it flashing angrily at the sky. With a quick flick of her wrist, she poured magic into the rift. Even more incredibly, the rift absorbed the energy and then swallowed itself whole.
The silence that enveloped them was deafening after the pandemonium of the preceding days.
When the woman turned her face to look at him, an involuntary shudder overtook Cullen’s body at what he saw there. Her fierce eyes were a perfect match to the unnatural color of the jagged rip in the sky.
The sound of shoes tapping across the stone floor roused him from his meditations. He could tell without even looking that it was the bann making her way across the chantry. Out of the side of her eye, he saw her pause as she caught sight of him.
His headache had only increased, despite his attempts to temper it. The best place for him to ride out this pain would be in his tent, well away from the woman who was already driving him to distraction.
Before he could push himself off his knees, a quiet voice behind him began, “Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide.”
Cullen stiffened at the sound of the Herald’s voice. He’d avoided her as much as possible since they’d pulled her out of the wreckage of the temple and redoubled his efforts once he saw of what she was truly capable.
He was not proud of it, but she was a mage and he feared her. A fact that he’d tried to keep to himself. She’d never given him a reason, but he struggled to keep his instinct to smite her in check. A battle that was even harder distracted as he was by the lyrium withdrawals.
He leapt to his feet, surprising her. “Oh—Oh! Commander, good afternoon. Please, don’t leave on my account.”
“It is of no consequence, Herald. I was here much longer than intended and must get to my reports. Good afternoon.”
***
Her sister was due to depart for the Hinterlands in the morning, so invited her to an early dinner. Aside from the awkward conversation they’d had the day of her arrival, Ariana had seen little of the sister she’d sought for more than a decade.
Evelyn had cabin near the main gate. The space was quiet and far removed from others. Ariana recognized that she no longer knew the woman her sister was, but she thought the space suited her. Especially since someone had taken care to decorate and make the single room feel comfortable.
Her sister sat in the chair closest the fireplace—alight with a fire—and wrapped in a blanket despite the warmth of the summer night. The browns and greens of her fatigues seemed too large for her frail body.
Ariana’s concern for her sister hadn’t abated much since she’d arrived in Haven. It pained her to see her looking so delicate. But Ariana knew that Evelyn wasn’t weak, despite her fragile appearance. She could tell by the way her sister commanded awe and respect from the people of Haven. They both feared and revered her, as did the leadership.
In fact, the only person she’d met thus far who didn’t seem to outright fear her sister was the intelligence director, Leliana. Ariana got the impression that the woman didn’t fear much.
Her sister picked up her mug, the small movement pulling Ariana back into the present. The silence that had fallen between the two Trevelyans stretched on as her sister sipped her tea. Their interactions had been stilted and awkward, despite Ariana’s best efforts to keep the conversation flowing. She was ashamed that she hadn’t considered that more than a decade in the Circle would change her. Ariana struggled to reconcile the Evelyn she held in her heart with the living, breathing Evelyn in front of her.
The most obvious and significant difference in her sister was her appearance. Ariana expected her to have aged, but she barely recognized her sister with her shocking white hair, completely devoid of any color at all. Even more unsettling than the pure white hair was the unnatural green color of her eyes. The cheerful pale blue she remembered had disappeared, replaced by a color that perfectly matched the swirling green hole in the sky. Her sister's eyes unnerved her every time Ariana looked into them.
The conversation over dinner had focused on insignificant bits and pieces of their lives since the fateful day Evelyn had been taken by templars. Evelyn had once been Ariana’s closest friend and confidant. The person who protected her against the world. To speak of nothing important was heartbreaking. But once the dinner plates were cleared and they were left to their after dinner tea, Evelyn asked about their parents. Ariana didn’t want to overload her, but there was a sincerity in her sister’s question and gentleness in her eyes.
Before Ariana even realized what she was doing, she’d unloaded the entire story. Every last piece of the tragedy that befell House Trevelyan after the day Evelyn was taken. Their parents never recovered from the loss of their eldest daughter. It was as though Ariana lost her entire family in one fell swoop. When her mother passed before the beginning of the Blight, her father lost his will to live. He’d remained as strong as he could after the templars took Evelyn away, but losing the love of his life had been too much to bear.
It had been more than ten years now, but sometimes it still felt like yesterday when her world began to crumble.
Her sister stifled a yawn. Rather than overstay her welcome, Ariana bade her goodnight and slipped out into the Haven night. Their resident author, Varric Tethras, was speaking from near the fire pit. A small crowd had gathered around him, asking for details of his time with the Champion of Kirkwall. Ariana had read the book and, although it may seem incredible to the average reader, there was some truth within it. At least his representation of the Prince of Starkhaven was spot on.
Her sister’s cabin wasn’t far from the chantry so it took no more than a few minutes to climb the stairs and walk the short distance toward her room.
The chantry seemed unnaturally quiet, but she caught sight of the fair-hair commander on his knees in front of the statue of Andraste. He’d been there earlier this afternoon when she left. Had he returned or had he never left to begin with?
She paused to consider his bent form. The candles—a mainstay in modern day chantries despite the near useless of them—made his hair shine like spun gold. The waves had gone rogue in the humidity of summer, curling in haphazard directions, giving him a disheveled look that made him look so human. He was as mortal as the rest of them.
Why wasn’t he in the tavern with the rest of the men? Or at least, doing something more normal than this?
He was no longer a templar, he’d said, so the fact that he was still praying like one was interesting. In her experience, templars often joined the Order for the prestige and the power that came with it. This commander, however, seemed to get some benefit out of the prayer. She wondered how true his devotion was or whether there was more to this chapel visit than met the eye.
He lifted his eyes to the statue of Andraste and the murmur of a prayer fell from his lips. When he dropped his hands, clenched tightly into fists at his side, she slipped into her room as quietly as possible.